Bernard Pomerance The Elephant Man: What Most People Get Wrong

Bernard Pomerance The Elephant Man: What Most People Get Wrong

Honestly, if you think you know the story of the "Elephant Man" because you saw the David Lynch movie once on a grainy DVD, you’re only getting half the picture. Maybe less. The 1980 film is a masterpiece of body horror and empathy, sure, but the stage play by Bernard Pomerance is a completely different beast. It’s leaner. It’s meaner. It’s a philosophical gut-punch that basically asks if the "civilized" people of Victorian London were actually more grotesque than the man they were gawking at.

Most people don't even realize there was a massive legal battle between the play’s producers and the movie studio. People assumed the movie was an adaptation of the play. It wasn't. Pomerance had to sue just to make sure everyone knew his work was the original catalyst for the 1970s revival of interest in Joseph Merrick.

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Let's get one thing straight: Bernard Pomerance The Elephant Man isn't just a biography. It’s a critique of how we "consume" other people’s suffering.

The Man Behind the Script

Bernard Pomerance wasn't some lifelong theater insider. Born in Brooklyn in 1940, he eventually moved to London in the late '60s. He was a poet. A novelist. He co-founded a theater company called Foco Novo. When he wrote The Elephant Man in 1977, he wasn't trying to make a biopic. He was looking at Frederick Treves’ memoirs and seeing a story about exploitation.

The play premiered at the Hampstead Theatre in London before moving to Broadway in 1979. It was a juggernaut. It won the Tony for Best Play. It turned Philip Anglim (the original Broadway Merrick) into a star. Later, David Bowie even played the role. Can you imagine? The Thin White Duke contorting his body on a bare stage to represent a man with Proteus syndrome.

Pomerance died in 2017, but his play still feels weirdly modern. It deals with how we use "charity" to make ourselves feel superior, which is a vibe that hasn't exactly gone away in the age of social media.

Why the Play "Hates" Makeup

This is the part that usually trips people up. If you go see a production of the Pomerance play, the actor playing Joseph (referred to as John in the script) uses zero prosthetics. No latex. No heavy face-paint. Nothing.

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Pomerance was very specific about this in his stage notes. He thought that if an actor tried to look exactly like Merrick, the audience would spend the whole night looking at the "mask" instead of the human. Instead, the actor has to contort their body, twist their limbs, and change their voice to suggest the deformity.

  • The Projection Factor: Usually, the play uses actual historical photos of Joseph Merrick projected onto a screen while Dr. Treves gives a clinical lecture.
  • The Contrast: You see the "real" horror in the photos, then you look at a perfectly healthy actor and have to bridge the gap with your own imagination.
  • The Point: It makes you complicit. You are the one putting the deformity on him.

It’s a brilliant move because it highlights the central theme: Merrick is whoever the people around him need him to be. To Ross, the manager, he’s a paycheck. To Treves, he’s a scientific specimen. To the high-society ladies, he’s a way to prove how "kind" they are.

The Myth of Dr. Frederick Treves

In the play, Dr. Treves is a complicated guy. He’s not the simple hero we see in other versions. He rescues Merrick from a life of being beaten in Belgian flea markets, but then what? He puts him in a room in the London Hospital and... makes him a different kind of exhibit.

Treves becomes obsessed with making Merrick "normal." He wants him to be a Victorian gentleman. He teaches him to pray. He introduces him to the actress Mrs. Kendal. But as Merrick becomes more "civilized," Treves starts to fall apart. He starts having these existential crises, wondering if his own life is just as rigid and meaningless as Merrick's.

There’s a scene where Merrick is building a model of St. Phillip's Church. It’s the only thing he can control. He’s using his one good hand to build something perfect while his own body is basically a ticking time bomb of bone and skin growth.

What Really Happened vs. The Play

Pomerance took some big swings with the truth to make his point.

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  1. The First Name: He calls him John Merrick. The real guy was Joseph. Treves actually wrote "John" in his memoirs—some think it was an accident, others think it was to protect his privacy—and Pomerance just stuck with it.
  2. The Mother: The play suggests Merrick was abandoned by a mother who was horrified by him. Historically, Joseph’s mother, Mary Jane, was actually very loving. She died of pneumonia when he was 11. That was the real tragedy of his life, but "abandoned by a cruel mother" makes for better drama, I guess.
  3. Mrs. Kendal: In the play, she’s his best friend and even exposes her breasts to him so he can finally see a woman’s body before he dies. In real life? They never actually met. She sent him gifts and raised money for him, but they were pen pals at best.

Does the lack of accuracy matter? Kinda, but not really. The play is trying to reach a "poetic truth." It’s looking at the 1880s as a mirror for the 1970s (and today). It’s about how society treats anyone who doesn't fit the mold.

The Ending: Not a Suicide, But Still Heartbreaking

Joseph Merrick died on April 11, 1890. He was 27.

In the play, as in real life, he died because he tried to sleep lying down like a "normal" person. Because his head was so massive and heavy—about the circumference of a man’s waist—he usually had to sleep sitting up with his head on his knees. If he laid back, the weight of his skull would crush his windpipe or dislocate his neck.

Pomerance frames this not as an accident, but as a final, desperate act of wanting to be like everyone else. It’s a quiet, devastating end. The hospital administrator, Carr Gomm, ends the play by reading a letter to the Times about how much money they raised in Merrick's name. It’s cynical. It shows that even in death, he’s a fundraising tool.

How to Approach the Text Today

If you’re a student or just a theater nerd, don't just read the script. You have to see it performed—or at least watch the 1982 TV movie version with the original cast.

Actionable Steps for Understanding the Play:

  • Look at the structure: There are 21 scenes. They’re short. They’re like snapshots. Notice how the "Pinheads" (other sideshow performers) act like a Greek chorus, commenting on the action.
  • Study the "Cathedral" metaphor: Think about why Merrick is building a church. Is it about faith? Or is it about the human desire to create something permanent and beautiful when your own life is falling apart?
  • Compare the "Lectures": Look at Scene 3, where Treves lectures on Merrick's body, and compare it to the dream sequence in Scene 18 where Merrick lectures on Treves' "normality."

The play is basically a trap. It draws you in with pity for a "monster," then slowly turns the lights on the audience until you realize you're the one being judged. It’s why it’s still performed in high schools and on Broadway decades later. We’re still obsessed with the "Elephant Man," and we’re still not quite sure how to treat the people who don't look like us.

If you're looking for a deeper dive into the medical side of this, check out the 2026 revival plans. There's a new film in the works—written by Moby Pomerance, Bernard's son—starring Adam Pearson, a disability advocate who actually has neurofibromatosis. It’s finally moving away from "healthy actors playing disabled" and into a more authentic space. It’ll be interesting to see how that dialogue changes when the person on stage isn't "performing" a deformity, but living it.