Through astonishing cinematography (by Freddie Francis) and quite subtle sound effects (Lynch’s usually surreal use of sound makes perfect sense here), the vile gothic atmosphere permeates every scene to the point that we can almost taste the metallic filth and grease of the Industrial Revolution. This is possibly the greatest cinematic evocation of the Victorian age.
The story of Joseph Merrick (incorrectly called John for the film) is a great one in itself and it would have been easy to render things mawkish and cloying. The Elephant Man is neither. Lynch does veer closely to over-sentimentalising Merrick’s story and certainly plays free with the facts as well as being rather pick&mix about who were the heroes and villains that Merrick came into contact with (for example Frederick Treves was less of a hero than he is portrayed here and Merrick was less of a victim). But this is still meant to be a piece of cinema and dramatic license is expected. So that through a mixture of fact and fancy we do get some measure of the kind, clever, sophisticated and yes, even beautiful man who had to live his (very short) life trapped inside a prison of deformed flesh and bone. A man of great dignity, compassion and generosity of spirit (many of those privileged to have met him were incredibly moved and felt more than a little humbled). Lynch has also been criticised for treating Merrick as as much a freak as he was when he was alive. For example, the pre-publicity of making a big secret of the make-up lasted right into the film, as the audience is teased with holding back ‘the big reveal’ (similar to how Spielberg gave us E.T!). But that is just another part of the film’s greatness – Lynch baits us into anticipation and horror. Then daring us to squirm and feel revulsion, to snigger and poke sticks through the cage. So that when we are given Joseph Merrick – the man, we feel shame. And so we should! Lynch makes it perfectly clear that we are still very much the baying audience of the Victorian freak show!

“Tis true my form is something odd,
But blaming me is blaming God;
Could I create myself anew
I would not fail in pleasing you.

“If I could reach from pole to pole
Or grasp the ocean with a span,
I would be measured by the soul;
The mind’s the standard of the man.”