Post by klep on Aug 24, 2020 7:39:42 GMT -6
MOVIE OF THE WEEK for 8/24: The Elephant Man
Note: This week's essay is graciously provided by a guest contributor.
UNSEEN CLASSICS WEEK!
Note: This week's essay is graciously provided by a guest contributor.
We all have preconceived ideas about our “unseen classics” (those notable films that we know we should see, and that we’d probably love if only we gave them the chance, but haven’t gotten to yet) before we actually sit down to watch them. Most of the time, these ideas come from the film’s critical reputation or details about the film that are considered common knowledge due to social osmosis. They are assumptions that may or may not be accurate, but they are rooted in evidence and can be articulated ahead of actually watching the film.
But then there are the assumptions we make about films that we don’t realize we’ve made, and that we can’t articulate until we’ve actually seen the film. They are subconscious assumptions that we can only identify once we are confronted with their inaccuracy.
This is why, up until a few days ago, I was certain that The Elephant Man was told from the perspective of the titular character, John Merrick (John Hurt). I couldn’t have consciously expressed that, because it was such a fundamental assumption about the film that I didn’t put language to it. It’s why I avoided watching the film for so long, thinking it would be “too sad” — that is, a depiction of brutality and abuse directly from the perspective of the person victimized by that abuse.
I don’t think you can fault me for this assumption. Hurt was nominated for Best Actor, and his performance is the one most commonly discussed. He’s the one depicted in most of the promotional art (though one poster does include him alongside Anthony Hopkins — more on him in a moment). And the only scene I’d ever caught in passing is one of the few scenes explicitly from Merrick’s perspective, when a group of drunk spectators break into his hospital room to physically and emotionally assault him.
In reality, the majority of The Elephant Man is told from the perspective of Frederick Treves (Hopkins), the doctor who takes care of Merrick (and who, in real life, wrote “The Elephant Man and Other Reminiscences,” the book from which the screenplay was adapted). This choice is significant. It’s practical, given that Treves’ actual writing was the inspiration for the film, and given the storytelling utility of having Treves as an audience surrogate. But it also creates emotional distance, one that is as othering as it is empathetic.
The Elephant Man opens with Treves on a quest to find Merrick, wanting to study the medical condition that has caused his unique physical deformities. Treves tracks down sideshow ringmaster Mr. Bytes (Freddie Jones), who treats Merrick as his property, and asks Bytes to show him his Elephant Man. When Bytes does, we don’t see a clear shot of Merrick’s face. Instead, we see Merrick briefly before cutting away to a close-up of Treves. The emphasis of the scene is not Merrick but instead Treves’ reaction to Merrick — mouth slightly open, eyes wide, a tear falling down his cheek. This is the moment that establishes all that will follow. Though we will indeed see Merrick’s face and learn much about him, nearly all of that information will be filtered through Treves’ observations, beliefs, and concerns.
Treves is a very fitting protagonist for a David Lynch film. One of Lynch’s primary thematic preoccupations, across many of his films, is the experience of grappling with the unspeakable. From a father taking care of a deformed infant in Eraserhead, to a young man witnessing extreme sexual violence in Blue Velvet, to an elderly man seeking to end a vaguely-articulated familial estrangement in The Straight Story, Lynch is frequently drawn to characters who are asked to make sense of realities that defy their understandings of the world. Treves fits perfectly into this category. He takes Merrick away from the sideshow and cares for him at the London Hospital. He knows that Merrick’s condition isn’t curable — in fact, it’s rapidly deteriorating — but he wants to provide him with as much normalcy and quality of life as possible. He coaches Merrick on his speech, provides him with nice clothes and a permanent room, and encourages him to socialize. Eventually, Treves begins to question whether his “help” is as harmful and objectifying as Bytes’. But that self-awareness can’t completely bridge the distance. Treves can (and does) continue to be a support system for Merrick, but his comprehension of Merrick’s life and experiences remains at a distance. His emotions show someone trying to understand, getting close, but always grasping for something that remains out of reach.
The Elephant Man is a strong film, one that I’m glad to have finally seen. But as much of a classic as it is, I’m not sure it’s the best version of the story that could be told. Treves is both a necessity and a liability to the story, and while I understand Lynch’s emphasis on him, it has the effect of continuing to other Merrick in a story about how othering is wrong. It’s hard to call it a misstep when it’s clear that Lynch was highly successful in achieving his specific vision, but days later, I’m not convinced it was the right vision for the story. Maybe I’m too attached to the assumptions I made about the film before seeing it. But I’ll always wonder how the film might have been different if we saw more of Merrick on his own, apart from Treves’ (admittedly compassionate) stare.
OUR NEXT MOVIE OF THE WEEK for 8/31: Duck Amuck
MOVIES THAT LOVE MOVIES WEEK!
In 1953 Chuck Jones turned in a legendary Looney Tunes short that exulted in the unending and often irrational possibilities of animation. Duck Amuck is a masterwork of animation featuring Daffy Duck improvising to try and keep up with a madman of an animator seemingly bent on driving him mad. Be sure to join us next week for Duck Amuck, available on the internet.
NEXT PICTURE SHOW PODCAST for 8/25: Boys State
The podcast concludes its pairing on the wisdom in letting young boys run a society with the new Boys State. Come join our discussion on Wednesday of this film, available on AppleTV+.
But then there are the assumptions we make about films that we don’t realize we’ve made, and that we can’t articulate until we’ve actually seen the film. They are subconscious assumptions that we can only identify once we are confronted with their inaccuracy.
This is why, up until a few days ago, I was certain that The Elephant Man was told from the perspective of the titular character, John Merrick (John Hurt). I couldn’t have consciously expressed that, because it was such a fundamental assumption about the film that I didn’t put language to it. It’s why I avoided watching the film for so long, thinking it would be “too sad” — that is, a depiction of brutality and abuse directly from the perspective of the person victimized by that abuse.
I don’t think you can fault me for this assumption. Hurt was nominated for Best Actor, and his performance is the one most commonly discussed. He’s the one depicted in most of the promotional art (though one poster does include him alongside Anthony Hopkins — more on him in a moment). And the only scene I’d ever caught in passing is one of the few scenes explicitly from Merrick’s perspective, when a group of drunk spectators break into his hospital room to physically and emotionally assault him.
In reality, the majority of The Elephant Man is told from the perspective of Frederick Treves (Hopkins), the doctor who takes care of Merrick (and who, in real life, wrote “The Elephant Man and Other Reminiscences,” the book from which the screenplay was adapted). This choice is significant. It’s practical, given that Treves’ actual writing was the inspiration for the film, and given the storytelling utility of having Treves as an audience surrogate. But it also creates emotional distance, one that is as othering as it is empathetic.
The Elephant Man opens with Treves on a quest to find Merrick, wanting to study the medical condition that has caused his unique physical deformities. Treves tracks down sideshow ringmaster Mr. Bytes (Freddie Jones), who treats Merrick as his property, and asks Bytes to show him his Elephant Man. When Bytes does, we don’t see a clear shot of Merrick’s face. Instead, we see Merrick briefly before cutting away to a close-up of Treves. The emphasis of the scene is not Merrick but instead Treves’ reaction to Merrick — mouth slightly open, eyes wide, a tear falling down his cheek. This is the moment that establishes all that will follow. Though we will indeed see Merrick’s face and learn much about him, nearly all of that information will be filtered through Treves’ observations, beliefs, and concerns.
Treves is a very fitting protagonist for a David Lynch film. One of Lynch’s primary thematic preoccupations, across many of his films, is the experience of grappling with the unspeakable. From a father taking care of a deformed infant in Eraserhead, to a young man witnessing extreme sexual violence in Blue Velvet, to an elderly man seeking to end a vaguely-articulated familial estrangement in The Straight Story, Lynch is frequently drawn to characters who are asked to make sense of realities that defy their understandings of the world. Treves fits perfectly into this category. He takes Merrick away from the sideshow and cares for him at the London Hospital. He knows that Merrick’s condition isn’t curable — in fact, it’s rapidly deteriorating — but he wants to provide him with as much normalcy and quality of life as possible. He coaches Merrick on his speech, provides him with nice clothes and a permanent room, and encourages him to socialize. Eventually, Treves begins to question whether his “help” is as harmful and objectifying as Bytes’. But that self-awareness can’t completely bridge the distance. Treves can (and does) continue to be a support system for Merrick, but his comprehension of Merrick’s life and experiences remains at a distance. His emotions show someone trying to understand, getting close, but always grasping for something that remains out of reach.
The Elephant Man is a strong film, one that I’m glad to have finally seen. But as much of a classic as it is, I’m not sure it’s the best version of the story that could be told. Treves is both a necessity and a liability to the story, and while I understand Lynch’s emphasis on him, it has the effect of continuing to other Merrick in a story about how othering is wrong. It’s hard to call it a misstep when it’s clear that Lynch was highly successful in achieving his specific vision, but days later, I’m not convinced it was the right vision for the story. Maybe I’m too attached to the assumptions I made about the film before seeing it. But I’ll always wonder how the film might have been different if we saw more of Merrick on his own, apart from Treves’ (admittedly compassionate) stare.
OUR NEXT MOVIE OF THE WEEK for 8/31: Duck Amuck
MOVIES THAT LOVE MOVIES WEEK!
In 1953 Chuck Jones turned in a legendary Looney Tunes short that exulted in the unending and often irrational possibilities of animation. Duck Amuck is a masterwork of animation featuring Daffy Duck improvising to try and keep up with a madman of an animator seemingly bent on driving him mad. Be sure to join us next week for Duck Amuck, available on the internet.
NEXT PICTURE SHOW PODCAST for 8/25: Boys State
The podcast concludes its pairing on the wisdom in letting young boys run a society with the new Boys State. Come join our discussion on Wednesday of this film, available on AppleTV+.