Theatre in Review: The Elephant Man (Booth Theatre)

	Bradley Cooper. Photo: Joan Marcus

There are at least three moments in Scott Ellis' revival of The Elephant Man that are marked by the kind of silence that occurs only when an audience is listening, intently, with every ounce of its collective concentration. The first occurs when we are introduced to the title character, covered in wraps that obscure him from outside view; however, his stertorous breathing and animal moans -- especially when subjected to a cruel beating -- is shocking enough. It is rare to see a moment of such unbridled cruelty on a Broadway stage, and it leaves one chilled to the bone.

Of course, this scene begs the question of how Bradley Cooper -- the inordinately handsome film actor -- will portray John Merrick, whose body was so deformed, possibly by neurofibromatosis, that his appearance caused universal shock and revulsion. The question is answered in a sequence that reveals how well the author, Bernard Pomerance, makes use of the tools of the theatre to tell his story: Cooper appears at stage right; Alessandro Nivola, as Dr. Frederick Treves, Merrick's benefactor, is at stage left. Behind them is a projection screen on which are seen images of the real Merrick. As Treves, lecturing, presents the details of Merrick's deformities, Cooper takes them on, freezing the right half his face to suggest his cranial deformity, curving his nonfunctional (and horribly swollen and altogether useless) arm into a c-shape, and bending his hip into a bizarre angle to indicate the bone disease eating away at his frame. By the end of the scene, this conventionally handsome leading man has been transformed -- stunningly and by the simplest of means -- into one of nature's grotesques.

Later, when Merrick has found a home of sorts at a London hospital, Treves, realizing that his charge is starved for human company, engages Mrs. Kendal, a leading lady of the West End stage, to meet with him. Treves' reasoning is that, faced with Merrick's hideous appearance, only a professional actress could rein in her natural reactions. In one of the more amusing passages, she demonstrates the variety of ways she can deliver the line "It is a pleasure to have made your acquaintance," each one designed to hide her true reactions behind a facade of politesse. However, on meeting Merrick and discussing Romeo and Juliet (his current reading) with him, Mrs. Kendal is stunned to discover that he possesses an unusual sensitivity and a highly original mind. Taking her leave, she delivers the line mentioned above in a thoroughly original way; the skilled simulator of emotion has been surprised into a moment of authentic feeling. The tableau that follows, with Merrick, alone in his room, quietly sobbing as the lighting fades to black, is quietly stunning.

In scenes like these, and a half-dozen others, it is clear that Ellis has taken extraordinary care with this production, which was first seen at the Williamstown Theatre Festival. The director capitalizes on a script that tells Merrick's story as only the theatre can, stylizing it into an often-powerful parable of isolation and desire. At the same time, there is no getting around the fact that, for all its acclaim, The Elephant Man lacks a viable second act. Having brought Merrick to the point where he has a stable existence in Treves' hospital, there isn't much more to say. Pomerance manufactures a conflict that separates Merrick and Mrs. Kendal, but, saddled with a largely passive and increasingly ailing title character, the playwright shifts his focus to Treves, who, partly because of his association with Merrick, undergoes a serious crisis of faith, both in his profession and in Victorian notions of propriety and progress. Trouble is, the groundwork hasn't been laid for this turn of events and Pomerance rushes, not entirely convincingly, to establish it. Act II begins with a character we have never seen, a shady investment advisor who has bilked Treves of his savings, who quickly exits, never to be seen again. Pomerance also gives Treves some powerful speeches in which he rails against Victorian hypocrisies, but they have no organic connection to Merrick's story. By the time the narrative turns back to Merrick and his final days, one is forced to conclude that The Elephant Man is a bit of a structural mess.

Still, under Ellis' acute direction, the cast goes a long way toward keeping us engrossed. Cooper's Merrick is a superb creation, a surprisingly gentle spirit despite his disturbing appearance and profoundly lonely existence. He finds every bit of the script's wry humor -- for example, when explaining to Mrs. Kendal that Romeo is really a selfish fellow who doesn't deserve Juliet -- and yet is thoroughly credible when he begins to want more than simple friendship from one of his visitors. Late in the play, his health failing, his quiet despair is heartbreaking. Nivola is remarkably urbane and well-spoken as Treves, especially when noting with frustration that Merrick, now a demi-celebrity, has been taken up by the wealthy and famous largely because he is "a highly polished mirror" in which they see themselves. As Mrs. Kendal, Patricia Clarkson has inexplicably declined to attempt an English accent, but in every other respect she delights, whether she is gently reminding Treves that, in the Victorian world, all women are required to be actresses; coolly sizing up the challenge of meeting with Merrick ("He reminds me of an audience I played Cleopatra for at Brighton once"); and handling the difficult, but crucial, scene in which Mrs. Kendal decides to give Merrick a taste of the fleshly pleasures he has never enjoyed.

Also, Anthony Heald, back on Broadway after a much-too-long absence, delivers as both the manager who exploits and abuses Merrick and the Anglican bishop who delights in providing him with spiritual counsel. Kathryn Meisle pulls off a nifty double act as missionary nurse who balks at caring for Merrick and as a grandly self-adoring Princess Alexandra, consort of the Prince of Wales. Henry Stram has a nicely nuanced turn as the head of the hospital, who sees in Merrick a source of fundraising gold.

Ellis has also overseen a sleek production design that is beautifully suited to a script that unfolds like a screenplay. Timothy R. Mackabee's spare setting consists of a bare floor backed by a wall that rises up into the flies, suggesting on its higher levels the exterior of the hospital where Merrick lives. In addition to a few pieces of furniture, a couple of traveler curtains, and a screen for Mackabee's projections (used only in the scene described above) are all that is required. Philip S. Rosenberg's lighting combines low side washes with chilling white light than rains from the higher altitudes; other effects include a silhouetted tableau of freaks on display and a sinister red wash for when the action turns brutal. Clint Ramos' costumes capture the exaggerated lines and layers in ladies' clothes of the 1880s; the men's suits are extremely well tailored. John Gromada's sound design blends the plucked strings of his original music with a variety of effects that include trains, ships' whistles, and thunder.

Even with its weaknesses, The Elephant Man seems likely to endure as a star vehicle, and when the star is as accomplished as Cooper -- and when the rest of the company is equally agile -- it's hard to complain. Still, it works really only as a challenge for actors and not as a fully realized dramatic work. Then again, if you do see it, chances are you will leave the theatre with several memories that will linger in your mind for some time to come.--David Barbour