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| Scene from The Elephant Man |
Welcome to a weekly column called Theory Thursdays, which will be released every Thursday and discuss my "controversial opinion" related to something relative to the week of release. Sometimes it will be birthdays while others is current events or a new film release. Whatever the case may be, this is a personal defense for why I disagree with the general opinion and hope to convince you of the same. While I don't expect you to be on my side, I do hope for a rational argument. After all, film is a subjective medium and this is merely just a theory that can be proven either way.
Subject: Twin Peaks:: The Return ends this Sunday.
Theory: The Elephant Man is David Lynch's best movie.
For a certain type of person (like myself) the return of Twin Peaks has produced a lot of great moments that remind us why we love David Lynch. In some ways, the entire franchise going back 27 years has been his magnum opus, reflecting a balance between human drama and the unknown. Still, it's sad to think that after this upcoming Sunday that there may never be new Twin Peaks again. It only seems right then that I dedicate this week's column to the auteur of all things weird. What better way than to look at his filmography and try to understand what makes him so great. Well, you don't really have to ask if you've seen his work. You either think he's brilliant or not. Alas, I do think that determining his best work is as complicated as a snowflake.
The best emblematic of what he'll be remembered for is undoubtedly Mulholland Drive, which is - to put it bluntly - a tough nut to crack. It's a wondrous journey through Hollywood that will definitely surprise, confuse, and scare you. More devoted fans may say something like Blue Velvet while those who adore his unabashedly weird tendencies may prefer Eraserhead or (the only one of his that I don't really like) Inland Empire. He has a lot to choose from, and I think that there's a good argument to be made for each in some ways embodying his charismatic and singular view. However, I feel that there is a need to defend a movie that I don't feel gets enough love nowadays compared to your Blue Velvet or Mulholland Drive: The Elephant Man.
For Oscar fans, it's confusing to call it overlooked. It's the film that earned Lynch his first two Oscar nominations, including Best Director. However, it's a film that feels overlooked for a variety of reasons, including that it's the most soul-crushing film that he's ever made. Unlike everything else, there's no fantastical box to explore. This is the life of a man whose deformities have made him an outcast on par with Quasimodo. He is horrendous, and it lead to the famous line "I am not an animal." In some ways, I think that Lynch's fascination with this morbid real life person named John Merrick brought out the best in him, managing to make both a Lynch movie and a prestige movie at the same time.
I'll admit that a lot of my love for The Elephant Man comes from aesthetic decisions. If you have even a passing familiarity with Universal Horror movies, then you'll recognize a lot of what the film is going for. I choose to see this both as a biopic and a commentary on the 1920's films starring Lon Chaney, notably The Hunchback of Notre Dame and The Phantom of the Opera. Both films are considered masterpieces of their time, but there's one common concern: Chaney ("the man of a thousand faces") plays the villains who are that way because they are ugly. A famous scene in the latter movie features Chaney as The Phantom being torn of his mask while rapidly turning to the camera, his face supposedly shocking. It may be a lazy trick of silent film era horror, but it does help establish the taboo that ugly equals evil.
In some ways, Merrick existed during the time that those movies were set. In that way, they fit as period piece visuals. However, I do feel that Lynch's greatest goal was to subvert classic horror by making the "ugly" person the most sympathetic. The horror was not visual appearance, but how people felt internally. The people around Merrick mocked him, forcing him into an exile that took a toll on his self-esteem. His deformities were caused by birth defects, which were at the time untreatable without major side effects. Merrick was helpless, and John Hurt played him with sympathy under excellent make-up that is about as surreal as Lynch gets. It's a disconcerting image, and one that maybe never becomes too comfortable even as the audience is told that Merrick is a kind soul. Lynch makes us empathize with Merrick, but how much we want to look at him is up to the viewer.
The one key element that makes Lynch great is that he loves reveling in the unknown. He knows how to draw the line between curiosity and discomfort, and that shows in everything that he's done. However, he has not always made characters that feel real enough to let the unknown be a compelling addition. The Elephant Man perfects the balance because he is a real man who is looking into the unknown of a regular life. He'll never be able to show his face in public, at least without ridicule. By slowly pulling the viewer into his life, it forces the perspective to show the hostility that one faces when they simply look different. Merrick is a kind man, but those who return the favor aren't in large multitudes too often. In some ways, it's a perfect antidote to the aforementioned Cheney films, commenting on their vapid simplicity. Still, it's in love with the style enough to become a horror movie of a different kind. The enemy is humanity.
I'll confess that I didn't set out to write this the day after writer Bernard Pomerance died. While he wasn't involved with the film, he wrote the stage version of the John Merrick's life. Many have complained about the movie being inferior, if just because the film forces certain elements that were interpreted on stage to have a more specific design, such as the deformities. With that said, it's still incredible that for one moment Lynch was a prestige director who made dramas that appealed to The Academy. It wouldn't be his last Oscar nomination, but his challenging approach to everything would make his next nominations few and far between. The Elephant Man distills what he could be if he found ways to turn side show freaks into sympathetic protagonists. In some ways, it's a missed opportunity that he never returned. Even then, he made one of the greatest versions of that story, so why ruin a good thing?
Unfortunately, this is an Oscars blog, so I won't be writing about Twin Peaks' finale this upcoming Monday on here. I do hope to write about it on Optigrab though, if you're curious. With all of this said, there's a lot that can be explored within this filmmaker's work. I wish that I had a more concrete opinion on Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me so that I could've dedicated this week's column to that. However, the best that I could come up with is that it feels secondary to the show (though in 2017, it's become essential viewing). Even then, I will continue to love how weird Lynch gets no matter what he does next. With that said, no film that he has done will likely ever be as affecting as The Elephant Man, which may just be because reality is stranger than fiction, and that's why it's his weirdest career choice in a career full of them.
For a certain type of person (like myself) the return of Twin Peaks has produced a lot of great moments that remind us why we love David Lynch. In some ways, the entire franchise going back 27 years has been his magnum opus, reflecting a balance between human drama and the unknown. Still, it's sad to think that after this upcoming Sunday that there may never be new Twin Peaks again. It only seems right then that I dedicate this week's column to the auteur of all things weird. What better way than to look at his filmography and try to understand what makes him so great. Well, you don't really have to ask if you've seen his work. You either think he's brilliant or not. Alas, I do think that determining his best work is as complicated as a snowflake.
The best emblematic of what he'll be remembered for is undoubtedly Mulholland Drive, which is - to put it bluntly - a tough nut to crack. It's a wondrous journey through Hollywood that will definitely surprise, confuse, and scare you. More devoted fans may say something like Blue Velvet while those who adore his unabashedly weird tendencies may prefer Eraserhead or (the only one of his that I don't really like) Inland Empire. He has a lot to choose from, and I think that there's a good argument to be made for each in some ways embodying his charismatic and singular view. However, I feel that there is a need to defend a movie that I don't feel gets enough love nowadays compared to your Blue Velvet or Mulholland Drive: The Elephant Man.
For Oscar fans, it's confusing to call it overlooked. It's the film that earned Lynch his first two Oscar nominations, including Best Director. However, it's a film that feels overlooked for a variety of reasons, including that it's the most soul-crushing film that he's ever made. Unlike everything else, there's no fantastical box to explore. This is the life of a man whose deformities have made him an outcast on par with Quasimodo. He is horrendous, and it lead to the famous line "I am not an animal." In some ways, I think that Lynch's fascination with this morbid real life person named John Merrick brought out the best in him, managing to make both a Lynch movie and a prestige movie at the same time.
I'll admit that a lot of my love for The Elephant Man comes from aesthetic decisions. If you have even a passing familiarity with Universal Horror movies, then you'll recognize a lot of what the film is going for. I choose to see this both as a biopic and a commentary on the 1920's films starring Lon Chaney, notably The Hunchback of Notre Dame and The Phantom of the Opera. Both films are considered masterpieces of their time, but there's one common concern: Chaney ("the man of a thousand faces") plays the villains who are that way because they are ugly. A famous scene in the latter movie features Chaney as The Phantom being torn of his mask while rapidly turning to the camera, his face supposedly shocking. It may be a lazy trick of silent film era horror, but it does help establish the taboo that ugly equals evil.
In some ways, Merrick existed during the time that those movies were set. In that way, they fit as period piece visuals. However, I do feel that Lynch's greatest goal was to subvert classic horror by making the "ugly" person the most sympathetic. The horror was not visual appearance, but how people felt internally. The people around Merrick mocked him, forcing him into an exile that took a toll on his self-esteem. His deformities were caused by birth defects, which were at the time untreatable without major side effects. Merrick was helpless, and John Hurt played him with sympathy under excellent make-up that is about as surreal as Lynch gets. It's a disconcerting image, and one that maybe never becomes too comfortable even as the audience is told that Merrick is a kind soul. Lynch makes us empathize with Merrick, but how much we want to look at him is up to the viewer.
The one key element that makes Lynch great is that he loves reveling in the unknown. He knows how to draw the line between curiosity and discomfort, and that shows in everything that he's done. However, he has not always made characters that feel real enough to let the unknown be a compelling addition. The Elephant Man perfects the balance because he is a real man who is looking into the unknown of a regular life. He'll never be able to show his face in public, at least without ridicule. By slowly pulling the viewer into his life, it forces the perspective to show the hostility that one faces when they simply look different. Merrick is a kind man, but those who return the favor aren't in large multitudes too often. In some ways, it's a perfect antidote to the aforementioned Cheney films, commenting on their vapid simplicity. Still, it's in love with the style enough to become a horror movie of a different kind. The enemy is humanity.
I'll confess that I didn't set out to write this the day after writer Bernard Pomerance died. While he wasn't involved with the film, he wrote the stage version of the John Merrick's life. Many have complained about the movie being inferior, if just because the film forces certain elements that were interpreted on stage to have a more specific design, such as the deformities. With that said, it's still incredible that for one moment Lynch was a prestige director who made dramas that appealed to The Academy. It wouldn't be his last Oscar nomination, but his challenging approach to everything would make his next nominations few and far between. The Elephant Man distills what he could be if he found ways to turn side show freaks into sympathetic protagonists. In some ways, it's a missed opportunity that he never returned. Even then, he made one of the greatest versions of that story, so why ruin a good thing?
Unfortunately, this is an Oscars blog, so I won't be writing about Twin Peaks' finale this upcoming Monday on here. I do hope to write about it on Optigrab though, if you're curious. With all of this said, there's a lot that can be explored within this filmmaker's work. I wish that I had a more concrete opinion on Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me so that I could've dedicated this week's column to that. However, the best that I could come up with is that it feels secondary to the show (though in 2017, it's become essential viewing). Even then, I will continue to love how weird Lynch gets no matter what he does next. With that said, no film that he has done will likely ever be as affecting as The Elephant Man, which may just be because reality is stranger than fiction, and that's why it's his weirdest career choice in a career full of them.
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