I didn't see this in theaters when it came out, but I saw its television premier, probably a year or so later. I was about eleven. It was my first David Lynch film. At the time, of course, I had no idea who Lynch was; it was still a few years before I would start paying attention to him because of Twin Peaks and Blue Velvet. All I knew at the time was that it was very sad, very moving, but then I always was a very soft-hearted youngster.
This is the first time I've seen it since figuring out (to the extent that this can be done) who Lynch is, the first time I've watched it as “A Film by David Lynch.” You can really see in places that this is a guy fresh off of Eraserhead. And I hate to say it, but I kind of feel like Lynch did a slightly amateurish job of directing this. Not visually, of course. The black and white cinematography is gorgeous, though I think a lot of the credit for that has to go to Freddie Francis. He was the DP both for this and for The Innocents, one of the most beautifully-shot B&W films I've ever seen, and when I see a particularly lovely shot in this movie, I imagine Francis holding Lynch's hand a little bit.
No, the problems aren't visual, they're thematic. They are issues of pacing and emotion and weird digressions from the story. We all know Lynch's directorial flourishes by now; he practically signs his name on every frame of film he shoots. These flourishes are generally pretty highly regarded by film fans, including me. But when a film is his own work, his own story, then these flourishes are part of that story. In this he's imposing them onto someone else's story, and I think it detracts from the overall effect. I kept getting pulled out of the film. I'd be getting into the story and then suddenly “Oh, that's Lynch...” “Yup, there's a Lynch moment...” “Oh, right, David Lynch directed this.”
It's the same problem I usually have with Quentin Tarantino. A director should leave an imprint on a film, but he doesn't have to constantly bang me on the head with a club engraved “I MADE THIS.” I guess it had never occurred to me before how similar Lynch and Tarantino are in that way, because it usually doesn't bother me with Lynch, but it did here. All through the more surreal moments the word “Eraserhead” kept going through my mind. I think someone who didn't know Lynch's later work might enjoy it more, but I am no longer that person.
It's a good story, but I would argue that it's a little bit sophomorically told. There is never any real flow in this movie; it seems to just jump from moment to moment. It's not a tragic flaw, it doesn't stop the film being enjoyable, but it is definitely noticeable. And although I disagree with those who feel that the film is just too sentimental on the whole, I'll concede that it does sometimes sink into sentimentality. I think the scene where Dr. Treves and John Merrick (Anthony Hopkins and John Hurt) are discussing whether or not Merrick can be cured is very deftly and subtly handled. Hopkins is close to perfect in that bit, trying to be clinical and yet finding it difficult to maintain eye contact; it's far and away his best bit of acting. Merrick's calm acceptance is good, as well. Hurt mostly plays Merrick as a very emotional man, but in this scene I feel like he understands how difficult this admission is for Treves, and he's being stoic for the doctor's benefit. Both men convey so much with their expressions (even with Hurt under all that makeup) and so few words, and Lynch just lets them do it, and it's really great to watch, definitely the film's high point.
Now, compare that to the scene where Mrs. Kendall (Anne Bancroft) shows up and reads Romeo and Juliet with Merrick. That scene is extremely heavy-handed. By the time Mrs. Kendall drops to her knees in front of him and says, “Why, you're not an elephant man at all! You're...you're Romeo!” I'm really desperate for the next scene to get started.
The performances I really liked, not to take anything away from Hurt and Hopkins, were the supporting roles played by Wendy Hiller (Mrs. Mothershead) and Freddie Jones (Bytes). I suspect that Bytes was written as he was to distance most of the rest of the cast from being evil, if you understand me. The film makes a lot of the way people react to Merrick, and those reactions mostly come from fear and ignorance; people think he's a monster. Bytes is not afraid, and he's not ignorant. He knows Merrick is a man, but it suits him to treat Merrick like a dog. He's there to show that the ordinary people in the film aren't actually bad, they're just insular and stupid, and in case we forget, here's this guy who is actually evil. That's a little bit heavy-handed as well, but I'm not saying I like the character, I'm saying that Jones plays him perfectly.
Hiller is the most interesting. When we first meet her, which is when she first meets Merrick, she has the same reaction to him that everyone else does. It's actually more troubling with her, because she's an intelligent, professional woman who lets her disgust with Merrick's appearance interfere, at least slightly, with how she does her job. But over the course of the film she warms to him, and becomes even more protective of him than the doctor (in fact, at one point she tries to protect him from the doctor). Her character arc, from ignorance and fear to compassion and acceptance, is the best in the film, the most human. I'm not gonna actually write out the after-school-special-ish moral here. You know perfectly well what it is, but Lynch and Hiller don't overplay it. It's a bit of a comfort to see Mothershead make this journey, and while Wendy Hiller never put in a bad performance in her life, this might be her best.
Also, someone else deserves some credit, and it's John Morris, who was basically Mel Brooks' house composer. He did some great work for this movie. I especially love the more, well, Lynchy bits, like the haunted-music-box theme at the beginning. Lynch hadn't yet discovered his beloved Angelo Badalamenti, but Morris came through with music that totally fit the feel of what Lynch was trying to do. And the inclusion of my all-time favorite piece of music, Samuel Barber's “Adagio for Strings,” at the end was a very nice touch.
DOES IT HOLD UP? I can't honestly say that. It's a good film, but not the masterpiece I thought it was when I was a kid. Its director was still very young and inexperienced, and although there are great artistic moments I would have to say that on the whole the film succeeds to some extent in spite of him rather than because of him. You can see flashes of his genius in this, but he just wasn't himself yet. Still, well worth a watch, for some interesting music and some very solid performances, and of course the legendary makeup effects, plus what I consider to be the...
BEST THING ABOUT THE FILM: The cinematography. I know, in modern black-and-white films, everyone seems always to be in love with the cinematography, but come on; this is a beautifully-shot movie.
WORST THING ABOUT THE FILM: Jeez, David, just settle down, let your actors tell the story. You'll have plenty of time for fever dreams in your later pictures.
SCORE: 7/10. I wrestled with this one a lot, and actually registered a six for it, but upon reflection I think it deserves a seven, though not by a lot. I'm glad it was made, and I'm glad Lynch got this chance, and it is quite a good film, but it leaves me with a depressing sense that it could have been better.
No comments:
Post a Comment