The Elephant Man @ Theatre Three
Alex Rain Photography
—Sam Lisman
The Elephant Man, now playing at Theatre Three, is not the latest superhero blockbuster, although it does tell a tale of survival against incalculable odds that is, in many ways, heroic. The play, written by Bernard Pomerance and ably directed by T3 artistic director Jeffrey Schmidt, is different than (and preceded by a year) the star-studded 1980 movie (they were apparently unaffiliated), though both relied heavily on the memoir of Sir Frederick Treves (Taylor Harris), the doctor involved.
Joseph Merrick (in the play he is John), played brilliantly by Drew Wall, was born without deformity, but as a child developed bone and skin abnormalities thought by some to be Proteus Syndrome (although DNA tests have been inconclusive because his remains were bleached, according to my rudimentary internet research). This left him with a giant, misshapen head and right arm, unbalanced chest, and a perfectly normal left arm and hand. (He also broke his hip as a child, requiring him to walk with a cane.) Because of the shape of his mouth, his speech was impaired, although with time and familiarity, listeners could understand him easily. Despite the era’s belief that a deformed body houses a deformed mind, they found that he was intelligent, thoughtful, and very capable.
But that was later in his life.
In the play, we’re told Merrick was sent as a child to a workhouse, where he was beaten mercilessly for failing in the impossible task of keeping the floors clean. Afterwards, he was displayed in freak shows in both England and Europe. It was while in London that he came to the attention of Dr. Treves, who wished to examine him. Later, when his trusted “business manager” Ross (an effectively smarmy Sean Gann) steals his life savings and abandons him in Belgium, Merrick somehow makes it back to London, where, after being saved from the mob by the police, he is found to have Dr. Treves’ business card. Treves convinces the hospital’s administrator, Carr Gomm (Cindee Mayfield), to allow Merrick to stay at the hospital, and Gomm’s letter to The Times about Merrick prompts more than enough donations to house Merrick for life.
Until this point, Merrick’s life has been one of unrelenting cruelty, brutality, mockery, alienation, rootlessness, and loneliness. Treves now sets out to give Merrick what he most wants: as normal a life as possible. Treves enlists the help of Mrs. Kendal (Karen Raehpour), who, as an actress of high renown, he hopes will be able to control her reaction tp Merrick’s appearance—unlike the many the nurses he’s hired. They bond, as so many of us have, over a discussion of Shakespeare, in this case, of Romeo and Juliet.
It is with these two people, as well as the local Bishop (also played by Gann, but much more amiably), that Merrick is able to connect and form meaningful relationships. With Kendal’s help, in fact, he maintains a steady stream of posh visitors, including Queen Victoria’s daughter-in-law (Mindamora Rocha).
The play is more than a biography of Merrick’s actual life: it’s about how we treat people who are different, about the way the Victorian world (and our own, more often than we like to believe) thought and behaved, and about the inherent dilemma that arises from doing the right thing for possibly the wrong reasons.
What makes this play worth seeing—and it is most certainly worth seeing—are the excellent performances. Wall is given no prosthetics, no special make-up or costume to help create a deformed appearance. Instead, he “simply” acts, contorting his face and body most effectively. As Treves, Harris in every way embodies our image of a Victorian physician, from his posture and bearing to his enunciation and commanding tone. (There’s something in his portrayal that brings Kipling to mind.) Gann gives two fine performances as he slides between his dual roles as the thoroughly rotten pimp and the jovial, but not very cerebral, bishop; and Raehpour displays a genuine sense of love, affection, and basic decency that is quite touching. It is worth noting that except for Wall, all the actors (Gerald Taylor II has the highest “head” count) play multiple roles.
The play is accompanied throughout by Jeff Harvick’s excellent cello playing, with sound design by Emilee Biles. Director Schmidt also designed the sparse, low-key set that allows the focus to remain on the actors. They also are greatly complimented by Amanda West’s excellent lighting design, which keeps the mood appropriately eerie and gothic. Scott Osborne’s and Fatima Flores’s costuming seems authentically Victorian.
The Elephant Man may not be for everyone. It’s dark, and contains some female nudity, which is fully appropriate to the story and in no way sleazy. That said, those offended by such displays or lacking a certain emotional maturity (I’m looking at you, Bevis), might wish to find other source of entertainment.
At its heart, the play is a plea to recognize the humanity in those around us, especially in fellow humans we might otherwise dismiss. If you think this message is no longer needed, I recommend you discuss the topic with a burn victim, someone with a cleft pallet, or a person with cerebral palsy. Merrick’s appearance was genuinely disturbing, frightful, and upsetting, but he was also a kind, caring, insightful, intelligent man—as those who were able to see past his outward appearance documented.
WHEN: Through February 19
WHERE: Theatre Three, 2688 Laclede Street, Dallas
WEB: theatre3dallas.com
