Fans of Bradley Cooper may well be amazed by his performance as John Merrick in The Elephant Man; many hardened theater critics will be, too. As the abused, tormented man cruelly twisted by deformity and fate, Cooper is simply superb. He allows us to see his vaunted chiseled face and obviously well-cared-for body contort into the grotesque creature who sends a nurse running from the room. No makeup, no costuming is necessary for the transformation. Moreover, Cooper takes Merrick from a grunting, inarticulate “imbecile” to a man of culture and substance by modulating his voice and assuming a proper English accent.
Cooper has said that he’s long been captivated by the story of Joseph Merrick (called John in the play), and the telling of his tale provides a dramatic star vehicle for the actor willing to take on the challenge.
Merrick was born on August 5, 1862, in Leicester, England. He died at 27. His condition was never actually diagnosed, but he was taken in by Dr. Frederick Treves (Alessandro Nivola) and given a home in the London hospital where he was studied extensively. Slides in the production are authentic, and they are chilling.
Playwright Bernard Pomerance has stayed faithful to the basic biographical details, while giving the audience a window into characters. Of singular interest is the special relationship which develops between Merrick and Mrs. Madge Kendal (Patricia Clarkson), the famous stage actress who comes to understand the inner beauty of her new friend. After hearing Merrick’s lament that he will never see a naked woman, Madge bares her breasts; Merrick tells her it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Clarkson wordlessly expresses Madge contemplating the decision, and her subsequent hesitancy as well as her empathy. Director Scott Ellis has created a production of great delicacy; nowhere is his level of taste more evident and more appreciated than in this moment.
While all the performers are at the top of their game, Clarkson is perfect in a role that could be vulgar in lesser hands. She brings an overlay of toughness and humor to a woman who has a gentle heart; we see Merrick through her eyes and are enlightened by the process. Clarkson is elegantly beautiful; it’s readily apparent why Madge is a star who captivates men--including Treves--whenever and wherever she appears. No production this season has depended more on the finesse of the lighting designer; Philip S. Rosenberg uses illumination forcefully to change scenes, and subtly to indicate moods. The scenic design of Timothy R. Mackabee is deceptively simple. A raked wooden stage forms the basis for the carny where Treves first encounters Merrick, the hospital which becomes Merrick’s salvation, and all other locales. Patricia Clarkson’s stunning crimson gown is more than enough to elicit kudos for costume designer Clint Ramos. That Merrick’s journey from abused creature to gentleman is detailed by his clothing changing from rags to a proper English suit elevates costume design to character delineation. Merrick starts out being totally alien and ends up having those with whom he comes into contact professes that “he’s just like me.” All our emotions are brought into play as members of the audience. There are some funny bits, notably Treves trying, in his best Victorian style, to explain to Mrs. Kendal why photos of Merrick’s penis show it to be unaffected by the affliction. “There’s no bone,” he pronounces, and the audience gets a much-needed laugh. There are moments of great anguish. Just after the touching scene with Madge, Merrick reacts to the news that he won’t be seeing her again with a heart-wrenching howl of agony. At that point, we’ve come such a long distance with the main character, our empathy for him brings more than a few tears in the house.
This production, accomplished with the relatively modest budget of $3 million, began in 2012 as a gleam in Bradley Cooper’s eye. He approached Scott Ellis about putting the show on the boards at the Williamstown Theater Festival; they had previously collaborated there and knew that the atmosphere was conducive for their creative endeavor. Cooper also knew that Patricia Clarkson was perfect for the role of Madge Kendal; he wooed and enlisted her the first time they met. Cooper’s instincts have proved to be right on every count.
There is an interesting convergence this Broadway season of human beings who are considered oddities by those society accepts as normal. Sideshow is about twins who were exhibited as freaks, and how they allow their humanity to be brought into the light. At the center of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is a boy whose genius is trapped in a cage of extreme social awkwardness. Are we merely curious about outcasts? Do we love to witness the triumph of the downtrodden? Or could it be, just maybe, that our society is finally beginning to realize that whatever our outer trappings, preferences, or upbringing, at heart we are all both unique and inextricably connected to each other.
