A must see David Lynch movie for every kid

I had a fever. I wasn't well and couldn't think straight, but being under 10 I wasn't scared. I was sick before and got better. My parents were unconcerned, the family dog ​​was on the opposite end of the living room couch, and the TV dial was flipped to the movie channel. While my friends were stuck in an overheated classroom learning cursive like a bunch of suckers, I drifted in and out of consciousness as the movies played in a cathode ray lamp perched in the nook of a carved tree eight feet from me. . I don't remember if I had a sore throat or a constant cough. I remember being happy and hungry for sensations. This was my happy place.

At that age, I had seen enough movies to know that they weren't all going to be Jaws or Airplane! – which I think represented the pinnacle of cinema. I knew all about the Academy Awards and followed which films were nominated for Oscars. I remember in 1980 thinking it was odd that two black-and-white films were nominated for Best Picture, and I didn't want to watch them for that very reason. But on this sick day, the programmers at The Movie Channel had decided that I would spend my afternoon watching David Lynch “The Elephant Man.”

I was not completely averse to the idea. Grotesque Makeup design by Christopher Tucker gave Lynch's film a monster movie appeal. Having seen most of Universal's horror classics from the 1930s and 1940s by now, I might stick with the black and white film if there was a hideous creature lurking in it. Basically, I approached The Elephant Man as a freak show. Two hours later, with temperatures north of 100 degrees, the world was a very different place.

When I learned via a flood of texts yesterday afternoon that David Lynch had died, I felt detached from reality. Although the longtime smoker's recent diagnosis of his emphysema prompted us to consider a world without further surrealist excursions from the sui generis filmmaker, I still couldn't fathom that an artist so alive and endlessly inventive was mortal. Considering I was in the middle of writing, Appreciate the recently passed Bob UeckerI didn't have the mental space to adjust to this new reality. But before I sink back into the sardonic brilliance of Uecker's Harry Doyle in “Major League,” I gave myself a moment. And the moment I fought back tears in the middle of the public library, I sat down on the couch, sick as a dog, watching The Elephant Man.

It had been decades since I last watched The Elephant Man, but I could still recall the nightmarish opening sequence in which John Merrick's mother is attacked by a herd of elephants. Should I have considered this incident responsible for Merrick's deformities? Lightly hallucinating myself, I was probably more confused than scared; I know I've never seen anything so weird in a studio movie before that held my attention for at least another ten minutes.

In the film's first traditionally staged scene, we are led through a freak show from the perspective of Dr. Frederick Treves (Anthony Hopkins), who wants to know why the police have been called to shut down one of the exhibits. The ambitious surgeon learns that the cause of the hype is an attraction called the Elephant Man. When he learns that the creature is so misshapen as to be deemed unfit for public viewing, he later returns to pay the beast's owner for a private show.

Lynch masterfully treats Treve's visit as a suspenseful event, where the host leads the doctor down a dark corridor and into a room that slowly lights up in firelight, revealing Merrick in all his unspeakable ugliness. Lynch presses Hopkins, who instead of gasping, sheds a tear. He is touched by this man's condition and we think he wants to help him.

The viewer doesn't get a proper introduction to Merrick until half an hour into the film, and by then we've seen him exposed to the insane parenting of Treve's colleagues and used again by a hospital orderly. After building up for so long, the Merrick we've come to imagine is far more monstrous than the one whose appearance elicits blood curdling screams from unsuspecting nurses – or so it seemed to me on that sofa. From that moment on, “The Elephant Man” fascinated me as much as it did at the time “Star Wars” trench run finale.

I'm not a parent, but I was a kid once, and I firmly believe that many kids can handle a disturbing subject if the director shows restraint and compassion. While Lynch doesn't shy away from the cruelty meted out to Merrick (his kidnapped return to the freak show in the third act is particularly harrowing), it's the kindness he shows that allows him to come out of his shell and reveal himself as human. potential is what reverberates long after the credits are issued. At this basic level, The Elephant Man is perfect for children to watch.

What makes it essential is the Lynch of it all. The aforementioned prologue, Merrick's trip to the pantomime, and his entry into space are equal parts wonderful and mysterious. If he hastens his death by removing the pillows from the bed in the final scene, smart youngsters may have a few questions, but there's no better way to end this Lynch staple than with, “I don't know.” That's right, kids. It's up to you, and what's more, there's no wrong answer. When they ask if Merrick has gone to heaven, again gently say, “I don't know.” And if you don't want to ask these questions, I have the perfect solution: let them watch alone.

That's what I did on a winter afternoon 40 years ago, and the memory soothed my soul as I took my first uncertain steps forward into the world. where David Lynch is now remembered – one that will last forever because nothing will die.