The first of The Elephant Man is merely stunning. The second act does not fulfill all the promises, but enough answers to complete the play are there. As any artistic play must, it functions on the theatrical, emotional, literary, and metaphoric levels.

Set in Victorian London and presented in detached, formal, but stylized episodes, The Elephant Man is in fact about an elephant man—a freak. It has the audacity to depend upon a central character whose appearance is on the one hand crucial to the story while, on the other, theatrically impractical. It would be ludicrous to try to create this character, a hideously deformed young man named John Merrick, with putty and padding. The author's ingenuity, however, leads us to "see" this mutation in ghastly detail….

John Merrick is kept at the hospital by Dr. Treves, who hopes that he can find a cure, and make him normal. The playwright knows as well as we that such massive bone deformities are not curable. But medicine was not so well informed in the 1880s, and this play never pretends to be naturalistic….

Of course, Pomerance is using him metaphorically. He is all of us, deformed by our own individuality, and individuality that represents art. Dr. Treves, on the other hand, represents rules—conformity, if you like. Here is science versus art, reason versus spiritualism. Treves is trying to "normalize" Merrick by making him like himself. At the same time Merrick is an immensely believable and moving character, not just a symbol, and, capitalizing on the open speech patterns of an isolated human, Pomerance has given him poetic voice. "I don't know why I look like this," Merrick comments. "My mother was knocked down by an elephant when she was pregnant…. I think my head is so big because it is so full of dreams."…

Mrs. Kendal brings Merrick to the world. She takes him to the theater and to concerts. She brings her friends to meet him. With her as intermediary, they appreciate him. They see themselves in him. That, as Dr. Treves points out, is Merrick's peculiar quality. Still, though this elephant man begins to act like other people, his deformities do not diminish.

As the play progresses, its author's references grow diffuse. There are religious allusions, for instance. These are confusing, but they do not fatally mar the play, for what counts most is its overwhelming humanity; its tragedy and compassion; its soaring poetry; the theatrical beauty it makes of the contrast between innocence, deformity, and the stark Victorian staging.

Pomerance has not thought this play through clearly enough, but he can tackle the problem in his next play. The quivering power of The Elephant Man is much rarer, and more important to the theater. The play has the drama, poetry, humanity, and intensity that we go to the theater for. When Mrs. Kendal decides, as we know she will, to show her body to Merrick; when he sighs that it is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen; when Dr. Treves comes upon them and is horrified by the impropriety; when Mrs. Kendal explains that she and Merrick were merely in Paradise; when she is dismissed, and when Merrick commits suicide (by laying down his dream-filled head), we are much too moved—transported—to quarrel. (p. 60)