I want you to close your eyes, and think of
something Lynchian.
Of the things that come to mind, I’m willing to bet that The Elephant Man was not one of them.
As well-known as it is, it’s often neglected
by Lynch’s diehard.
It just doesn’t fit in with his legacy as the preeminent explorer of the dreams and nightmares of the collective American unconscious.
But bear with me, for I’m going to explain
why it is unfair to disregard so arbitrarily,
because whilst it is true that it doesn’t
have much in common with his later work,
there is one key theme that it shares with the best of Lynch:
the power of looking.
The psychological effect of voyeurism is that it robs those who are the object of the gaze of their autonomy.
If they are unaware that  they’re being watched,
they're unable to give their consent
and thus their body and their actions is rescinded.
They’re just the plaything of
those who are doing the watching.
In Blue Velvet, Lynch plays with these issues of consent and autonomy
to create an uncomfortable moral grey area,
but in The Elephant Man there is not even any pretence that those who stare should hide their gaze.
So I want to take a look at how the film interrogates this idea:
that the act of looking can also
be an act of power.
Throughout the film, we are consistently presented with situations in which Joseph Merrick -
the so-called Elephant Man -
is the object of other people’s stares.
Whether it be the audiences at the fair
or the doctors and patients at the hospital,
the film makes it abundantly clear that he's always being looked at.
And the framing emphasises the effect of this,
showing him to be cut off and isolated - alone -
– and in contrast those who are staring
are nearly shown as being in groups.
This underlies how when a number of people are gathered together they can take on a group mentality
normalising their commonalities,
and from there they can come to see any individual who is distinct from that group as different
and in the process other them and dehumanise them.
It is fairly self-evident how this applies
to The Elephant Man,
both the real person, Joseph Merrick, and the film that was drawn from his life.
However, it is vital to understand that when we see these people staring
these are not point-of-view shots.
We do not see anything from their perspective
and the film does not allow its audience to
join in with this act of looking.
And this is because Lynch understands the
power of the point-of-view shot.
Let me explain.
In terms of film grammar, there’s actually
a very specific way to the give the effect of a character’s point-of-view.
That is, it has to be a sequence of shots:
Take this example from a director whose films casts a long shadow over Lynch’s work.
First we see a character looking,
then we see what they see,
and finally, we get they’re reaction.
And though it can be both more complicated and also simpler than that,
this fundamental idea –
and it’s what Lynch uses in The Elephant Man.
At beginning of the film, we are 
introduced to Dr Treves,
And we understand that he is our protagonist
because our journey through this scene is guided by his perspective,
which is illustrated with a liberal number of POV shots.
Like that one.
Or this one here:
which complicates the pattern by using more shots,
but maintains clarity through a consistent eye line.
And this is why it’s such a prevalent bit
of film grammar,
because its a very effective and a very efficient way to share a character’s perceptual subjectivity with the audience.
POV shots place us into the subjective space
of the character –
we share that character’s perspective -
we see what they see -
and thus we are aligned to their experience.
So from the very beginning of the film – pretty much the first narrative scene we get –
Lynch establishes that this will the pattern the film will be using to show a character’s point-of-view.
So in this scene, where Merrick is being chased by a mob –
first we get an objective view of the situation -
then we cut in and see people looking –
which is followed by a reverse of Merrick -
But instead of cutting back like this,
we instead get this new shot,
which is the last shot the scene.
So it doesn’t follow the pattern established at the beginning of the film
and we can’t recognise it as a POV sequence.
And the films does this all the time, even
with people who treat Merrick with respect,
like Treves - we don’t share their perspective.
In this earlier scene, where we and Treves first encounter Merrick,
we expect to be able to see what he sees as it follows the scene at the fair.
And things start conventionally, with a medium
shot of Treves looking off-screen.
Then we cut to a reverse, showing us what he sees.
When the curtain is drawn back, we cut in for a closer, more emphatic shot.
The sequence earlier with the ‘no entry’ sign primed us for this extra shot,
so we still follow the logic of the sequence.
And then we cut back to Treves, for his reaction, as per usual.
But this is the twist.
Notice how he has to move into a different position in order for the shot of Merrick line up with his perspective.
And notice also, the alignment of the wall
in these two shots –
they are from the same set-up.
And therefore, this shot is the anchor
for this exchange, not the shots of Treves,
and thus we can’t describe it as being from his perspective.
Like I said, the film does this all the time
- tricking POV shots –
here when Mrs. Mothershead looks up to see Merrick,
this action would suggest the reverse is a POV,
but then we don't get the requisite reaction shot to complete the triad.
So the question becomes why? Why is the film
withholding like this?
Well, by the end of the first act, the film
has established the power of looking:
that people are constantly gazing at Merrick,
but that we are kept from that subjective space -
we simply observe them observing him.
And it’s so that we don’t identify with
the mob and engage with the dehumanising
but furthermore it’s because
Lynch wants to save the power of this subjectivity
for when it is most effective.
In the first act, the audience has been aligned to Treves
and thus our understanding of Merrick is limited to Treves’ understanding of him.
However, once it becomes apparent that Merrick can actually speak and read and is, in fact, not an idiot
the film moves from away Treves,
and switches his viewpoint for Merrick’s.
And this shift in perspective is reinforced
by the fact that
from this point onward the only POV shots we get are those of Merrick himself -
our experience of this narrative is being aligned with his.
All other character’s POV’s are presented
to us more objectively
Or they are restricted
Or are entwined with Merrick’s own perspective.
And whilst the moral conundrum at the heart of the film is Treves’s concern that by
introducing Merrick to London’s high society,
he has just swapped one freak show for another ...
... the film ultimately comes down against this.
The Elephant Man is famous for the
pathos it is able to create for the character of Merrick
and whilst it’s true that his
story is innately sad –
we have to acknowledge the effect of the simple, but subtle, decision
made by Lynch,
his cinematographer Freddie Francis
and editor Anne Coates
to limit the amount of subjectivity on display.
By so doing, we are aligned to
Merrick and we see this narrative -
his narrative
- from his own point of view - and we emphasise, because we are sharing his subjective experience.
Merrick is not a thing ...
... or an animal, he is a human with consciousness and a perspective and a point of view
and it is filmmaking choices such as these that allow us to recognise that.
