Twilight Delivers an Elegant Elephant Man

Anna Hayes and Blaine Vincent III. Photo by Alicia Turvin.

By Tina Arth

Many of the community theater productions I see are in small ways weakened by oft necessary, but still jarring compromises. Gaps in an overall fine cast may be rounded out with the regular suspects, sets or costuming may bow to the strictures of budget, timing, or space, or the director and production team may recognize at the last minute that some small, missed detail needs to be figuratively swept under the rug – and I shudder to think how often the program is treated as an un-proofread afterthought. Playwright Bernard Pomerance’s lovely The Elephant Man deserves much better, and I was thrilled last Saturday to see the sensitive, precise and thorough treatment the show is being given by Twilight Theater Company. Director Chris Murphy clearly loves, and more important, understands both Pomerance’s work and the underlying true story of Joseph Merrick, and he has selected a cast fully able to bring his vision to the stage.

The play is based on the true story of Joseph Merrick, a 19^th-century Englishman afflicted with horrible deformities that led to his being displayed in a freak show as “The Elephant Man.”  Abused, robbed and abandoned by his manager, he was rescued by Frederick Treves, a young doctor who brought him into London Hospital where he lived for the remainder of his life.  From being an outcast, Merrick became a favorite of London society, with visits and gifts from many prominent citizens, including a meeting with Alexandra, Princess of Wales. The play in many ways adheres to the truth, but of course the playwright took dramatic license – beginning (quite inexplicably) by changing the Merrick’s name from “Joseph” to “John.”  While Merrick may, in real life, never have met the actress Mrs. Kendall (much less, seen her nude) he was supported, visited, and admired by a host of upper class Londoners, he was close to Treves, and his eventual death is tastefully, but accurately, portrayed. The core message of the show is not just Merrick’s tragic life, but also the reactions of the people who see him. To spare Merrick’s sensibilities, Treves required that there be no mirrors in his patient’s rooms – but in one key scene, a series of visitors seem to see themselves reflected in Merrick, with each of the visitors able to identify in Merrick qualities that they ascribe to themselves, so that each little monologue puts a mirror up to a flawed society.

The lead role is traditionally played without the use of makeup or prosthetics, and Blaine Vincent III does an amazing job of capturing both Merrick’s deformities and the man beneath with just his voice and body. The audience is transfixed as they watch the tall, sturdy Vincent transform, one feature at a time, into the grotesque character he will play for the rest of the show. Most remarkable is his ability to express emotion while keeping his face twisted into Merrick’s hellish grimace. 

Alec Scott Henneberger provides the perfect contrast – his Treves is a self-assured, physically and figuratively erect figure who is much more than just a physician – he is a friend and guardian. Henneberger radiates compassion and moral outrage, but still has trouble seeing his charge as an adult man with free will, and he captures neatly the lingering Victorian ethos that constrains his character.

Among the rest of the cast, the performance that demands mention is Anna Hayes’ portrayal of Mrs. Kendal. While her character is a famed Shakespearean actress, Hayes convinces us that Mrs. Kendal is not acting when she shows fondness and respect for Merrick, and she manages to make the nude scene sensuous and moving without even a hint of seductiveness.

I mentioned the attention to detail that made the show so powerful – one small but brilliant example is the tights on the three Pinheads. The tights were soiled and tattered just like one would expect in a tacky freak show – the type of costuming that subtly enhances the actors’ effect. Sets, lighting, and sound are similarly precise, and the net result is a genuinely elegant Elephant Man that demands full houses and standing ovations. Chris Murphy should be very, very proud of the show he has built on the Twilight stage.

Twilight Theater Company’s The Elephant Man is playing at the Performing Arts Theater, 7515 N. Brandon Avenue, Portland through Sunday, March 24, with performances at 8 on P.M. March 15, 16, 21, 22, 23 and 3:00 P.M. on March 17 and 24.