BROWNING, Tod (Dir.), “Freaks”, 1932, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer/Warner
Bros.
Many
people have referred me to this film in the past – I wonder what that says
about their perception of me? Regardless, I have resisted getting into it:
that’s partly because the best way to get me to avoid experiencing something is
to tell me that I “have to” see it, or that I’ll “love it!” I like to find; not to be pushed.
The
other reason is that I find the spectacle of so-called freaks genuinely
distressing. I have way too much empathy in these situations and (regardless of
the circumstances) I feel bad for the situation these people find themselves in
and under which they endure; I find that the line between celebration and
exploitation becomes very slippery indeed and it makes me uncomfortable.
So,
when this DVD showed up at the shop, I thought that I might at last, take the
plunge and see where it led me.
Of
course, since it’s me, I did some research. Apparently, Tod Browning came from
a well-heeled environment but ran away to the circus due to matters of the
heart. Touring through Los Angeles, he ran into a studio mogul who suggested he
try acting: a few bit parts later he jumped behind the camera and found his metier. His stint as a film director is
no light weight, dilettante effort either: the guy has over 60 film credits
under his belt. After making “Dracula”
in 1931 (complete with its Undead Aardvarks and Opossums of the Night), the
studio gave him carte blanche to come
up with something of his own devising. What he came up with was “Freaks”.
I
guess this is a case of writing what you know – the old chestnut that every
wannabe writer gets pasted with at one time or another. Mr. Browning had direct
contact with the eponymous circus performers and so, he knew where to look when
he started casting. Of course no travelling show at the time, apart from Barnum
& Bailey’s, had as many freaks as he managed to assemble here, so right
from the off we’re seeing something out of the ordinary. We have a thin man, a
bearded lady, a hermaphrodite, several “pinheads”, some dwarfs, a limbless man,
a fellow with no lower half, a set of conjoined twins and two women lacking
arms. By any standard, this is a confronting line-up.
The
story, once we get into it, is a melodramatic one: a conflict of lovers, of
which there are three sets. The first is a pair of dwarfs, long-time friends
who are destined to marry; he is the heir to a vast European fortune. The
second couple are an aerialist and the circus strongman: they have plenty of
chemistry, but no cash and expensive tastes. The last pair are a
straight-talking clown and an acrobat, the ditched former girlfriend of the
previously-mentioned strongman.
The
aerialist concocts a plan to marry the dwarf for his money, then poison him,
inheriting the loot leaving her free to run off with the strongman. The two
crooks set about their plan with gusto and (and here is where the film starts
to really become something special) are disconcerted to discover that everyone
else in the circus has seen what they’re really up to. At the wedding feast,
the freaks make one last ditch effort to ascertain if the high-flying
gold-digger is on the level; her reaction confirms their suspicions ... and
seals her fate.
The
script and the plot are very carefully constructed and, given the material, it
needed to be. The bad-guys are set up as parodies of the worst kind of
patronising hypocrites that any freak could dread to consort with; we
automatically turn our condemnation upon them for their greed and insensitivity.
The clown and his girl, on the other hand, are so forthright, unclouded,
all-embracing and accepting that we align ourselves with them as examples of
how we would like to think we would be, in their situation. Running parallel
with the major plot is a light-hearted storyline involving the conjoined twins
and their wedding arrangements to two other fellows: this appears as a
ludicrous situation, but it is at heart a serious matter, and it casts uneasy
shadows on the ‘inappropriateness’ of the wedding themes colouring the main
plot. Interspersing the story issues are scenes which show the various freaks
engaged in frankly amazing activities which, for them, are simple day-to-day
tasks. See: a woman with no arms drink a glass of beer! See: a man with no arms
or legs roll, light and smoke a cigarette! These vignettes, while arguably
voyeuristic to an extent, convince the audience to focus on the abilities of
these players, not their limitations.
That
being said, when the freaks take their vengeance on the strongman, the sight of
the limbless man crawling towards him with a knife in his mouth does push the
limits of credibility a tad far. Still, this guy fathered and raised children
in his off-screen life, so who knows what he could have done?
Talking
of their revenge, I had an epiphany moment during the wedding feast: during the
toast, the freaks begin a chant which signals the acceptance of the aerialist
into their tribe. “Gooble, gobble! Gooble, gobble!” they chant, “one of us! One
of us!” Anyone who has seen the first “Toy
Story” movie will suddenly (like me) know exactly where that creepy scene with
the mashed toys from the house next door came from.
There
are some great performances here, even though most of the actors are not
professionals in the traditional sense. The dwarf couple are especially good
(in real life they were siblings who, along with their other sisters, comprised
a “Dancing Dolls” act at Coney Island). Others have limitations, especially in
intellectual capacity, that are painfully obvious on screen and this can cause
discomfort for the viewer. Nevertheless, it’s the bravery of this film – and everyone
involved – that lies at its heart and which makes it truly worth watching.
There is an interesting Wikipedia page on this movie. The short story on which it is based, "Spurs" by Tod Robbins, is available on line.
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