Centre stage: John Hurt as John Merrick, aka The Elephant Man.
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HALFWAY THROUGH The Elephant Man, John Merrick has a dream. As he sleeps, restlessly scratching away at fabric, we travel through the eyehole in his hooded mask, and then along some greasy industrial piping, elephants trumpeting while we see Merrick’s mother writhing in agony. Shirtless men toil away at heavy-duty machinery, smoke billowing, before Merrick’s own disembodied head veers towards us and then, finally, we find him on the ground, kicked to bits by aggressors. It’s one of a handful of surreal sequences that elevate The Elephant Man, making it even more transcendent than it already is, lodging it in your soul forever.