FREAKS (1932)
1n 1932, Tod
Browning directed one of the most peculiar and daring horror films ever made by
a mainstream Hollywood studio. Freaks
was designed to explore and humanise the misunderstood world and needs of those
dubbed ‘freakish’ due to physical abnormalities. The setting was that of a
travelling circus whose environment and separate closed community echoed his
previous work. As we’ve already discussed, Browning was an ‘outide talker’ the
politically name for what was formally known as the ‘carnival barker’ in his
early life and had matured into a film-maker with a life-long affinity toward
those classed as outsiders or misfits. The horror genre was a way for him to
confront audience’s fears of the unusual members of society, gain sympathy for
them and play in sensationalist imagery on what they found disturbing –
arguably exploiting both sides of the debate.
Browning had
dwelt on transgressive themes in a circus backdrop before. The Unholy Three (1925) was the first time Browning had achieved
this dual-sided approach in that setting. The closed-off world of the circus
traveller has always appealed to our romantic imagination but has equally
inspired mistrust among many, in common with the Romany gypsies. Using Tod
Robbins’ novel and a screenplay by Waldemar Young, Browning developed the fear
of criminality in unknown ‘other people’ into a thriller. What would happen if
the skills of circus folk could be corrupted to ingenious criminal enterprises?
His long-term collaborator star Lon Chaney was a ventriloquist and female
impersonator, partnered with Victor McLaglen’s strong-man and Harry Earles
(later the lead actor in Freaks) as a
little person who could convincingly masquerade as a baby for deceptive
purposes as they perpetrated domestic robberies. The film was highly successful
and through Chaney in particular managed to earn sympathy without villifying
the world of the circus community as a whole.
The more
obvious forerunner to Freaks was
Browning and Chaney’s The Unknown,
which we covered earlier, in which Browning combined his morbid fascination
with deformity and evil whilst keeping the story very much under the big top.
Here, Chaney’s masquerade as Alonzo the Armless allows him to hide out from the
repercussions of his old life of crime. Once he sees that his ultimate
sacrifice to become surgically bereft of arms for Joan Crawford is too late, his
plot to murder her strong-man lover fails to his cost. Freaks was to be a more compassionate take on carnival folk and yet
in its controversial presentation of the disabled and climactic horror
denouement, Browning’s dark obsessions would cost him just as much
professionally – and perhaps not without reason – hence part of the film’s
unforgettable legacy.
In David
Skal’s riveting book The Monster Show,
he offers another personal connection that possibly gave Browning an affinity
with physical deformity, namely a tragic car accident in 1915 which the
director (then a young actor struggling with alcohol addiction) hit and killed a
promising actor, Elmer Booth. It left the luckily surviving Browning with
injuries including severe damage to his right leg and lacerations to the face
and arms. His recovery may have influenced a somewhat ghoulish obsession with
disability, the shark-like mouth of Chaney in Browning’s London After Midnight is a prominent image that well have been a lingering
echo. (The casting of Olga Baclanova in Freaks
was inspired by Browning seeing her in the film The Man Who Laughs, discussed previously, in which Conrad Veidt is
a performer reduced by a childhood torture disfigurement to performing as a carnival
freak with a macabre fixed grin. That movie however was widely regarded as much
more sympathetic than Browning’s 1932 production.
As a young
child, long before I actually saw Freaks,
the still photos and status of it as a banned film exerted a strange and
admittedly prurient fascination on me. My youthful self had no experience of
people afflicted with disabilities; seeing the shot of the unusual performers
gathered around the bearded lady new mother, I shamelessly gawped at them as spellbound as
they were by the new addition to their extended family. Perhaps this
inappropriate reaction, not dissimilar to ‘car-crash rubber-necking’ is what
many censors tried to protect the public from, but despite an unavoidable
interest in how day-to-day life is managed for those without certain limbs,
that ‘spectator at the zoo’ feeling is blended in the viewer with an
involvement in universal (as well as specific) relationship problems by Browning
at the same time as a degree of unwholesome spectatorship.
Browning was
given free reign to develop Freaks by
production head Irving Thalberg at M-G-M following his monumental success with
Universal’s Dracula. Seeing that
horror was big business in light of their rival’s equal box-office hit Frankenstein, Thalberg rolled the dice
on Browning’s pitch of providing the ultimate horror film. He was shocked on
seeing the script but understood it was what he had asked for. The source
material was a short story Spurs by
Todd Robbins, writer of The Unholy Three
and was given to Browning by the diminutive Harry Earles, co-star of course
from that same film. Although it was an unpalatable story, Earles recognised it
was a great opportunity to showcase him as parts for little people were so
rare. Spurs shares the central
plot-line with Freaks of a circus midget
who falls in love with a ruthless full-sized performer and exacts a revenge
ending, but the original story’s characters were all nasty and self-centred.
The midget’s self-enacted retribution for example is to ride his fraudulent, now
shamed ex around France, punishing her with the accessories of the title. At
least in Freaks, some sympathy is
retained for the protagonist as we don’t see him carry out the cruelty.
Freaks is set wholly within the backstage
world of a travelling circus troupe, intriguingly never showing us their
on-stage show, choosing instead to focus on the drama within their off-stage
lives. Theirs is a society made up of two groups of performers who co-exist
within the show-business ‘family’. There are the able-bodied artists led by
Cleopatra the scheming vamp trapeze artist, Russian ex Moscow Art Theatre
actress Olga Baclanova. Her partner-in-crime, Hercules the strong-man is played
by Henry Victor, after Victor McLaglen turned down the chance to reprise his
role in The Unholy Three and reunite
with Lon Chaney, who was initially considered gfor the film before he died in
1930. There is Roscoe Ates, who channels a real-life stutter in his role, Delmo
Fritz as the Sword Swallower, and the developing kind-hearted lovers Phroso the
clown and Venus the seal trainer (Wallace Ford and Leila Hyams). Thalberg had wanted Myrna Loy for Cleopatra –
until she read the script in horror and begged him to release her from the part.
Jean Harlow was also tipped for Venus, maybe passing for the same reason.
The
‘freaks’, for want of delicacy, are represented most importantly by Harry
Earles’ diminutive Hans, whose presence carries such authority and immaculacy
of dress I always regard him as the circus owner – we don’t see any evidence
that he isn’t. He is involved with Freda, a fellow little person who in reality
was Harry’s sister Daisy in the travelling Dancing Dolls family circus act, a
quartet of little people performers from Germany who toured America. Their real
names were Kurt and Hilda Schneider. Intermittently the twosome revert to
German dialogue in the film.
The rest of
the differently-abled cast feature an assortment of people with real-life
afflictions, part of a wave of CVs sent in via Browning’s circus connections
from all over the world. Presentation of them would fuel a raging fire of later
censorship problems. They are given insensitive but promotionally succinct
titles in the show such as Prince Randian the Living Torso (born without limbs
but able to roll and light his own cigarettes), Johnny Eck as Half-Boy, who
despite looking as though he had no lower half, did have hidden underdeveloped
legs – as well as impressive enough upper-body strength to support himself even
to a one-armed handstand. He was photogenic enough to have gained work such as TV
presenting parts in our generation since from the waist up he appears utterly
normal. There is also Frances O’Connor the extremely dextrous Armless Wonder -
and the famous real-life conjoined twins Violet and Daisy Hilton. This Siamese
pairing gained a professional life beyond the carnival scene in vaudeville,
playing piano and saxophone, and also attention in the media when they managed
to divorce themselves from their legal guardian who had bought them from their
birth mother and put them to exploitative work from earliest childhood. Notable
others include the three ‘Pinheads’, microcephalic performers born with small craniums, females Elvira
and Jenny Lee Snow, and male Schlitzie (born Simon Metz), a popular and
personable child-like charmer - as well
as Olga Roderick, the bearded lady who was one of several who recalled less
than fond memories of the film’s exploitative nature during filming.
The
producers knew Freaks would be a hard
sell of queasy possibilities to an audience unused to real-life, vividly
disabled people in a horror film, so they prefaced the film with a scrolling
written prologue intended to prepare the viewer to reframe what they were about
to see. It means well, yet suffers from highly debatable sensitivity, referring
from the top to the film as a ‘highly
unusual attraction’ – possibly meant as a deliberate introduction of the
circus theme, but it also suggests an exploitative angle that perhaps was the
opposite of fostering understanding. It goes on to fall on its own sword
further by inflammatorily listing ‘misshapen
misfits’ from history and literature: ‘Goliath,
Caliban, Frankenstein, Gloucester, Tom Thumb and Kaiser Wilhelm’, making it
hard to fathom how this ill-recruited rogues gallery of perceived disability,
fairy-tale Tom aside, is supposed to encourage inclusiveness. Are we to build
positive associations based on a bliblical destructive giant, Shakespeare’s
bestial island monster, Mary Shelley’s scientist or creature (some confusion
here), Richard III in the old, misrepresented ‘evil crookback’ sense and a
war-mongering anti-semite? It doesn’t help that there are more bouquets of
grenades offered to ‘the abnormal, the
malformed and the mutilated’, insensitive treatment of whom is ‘…the
result of long conditioning by our forefathers’. It’s also assisted by the 1932
present-day on the strength of this presentation. Finally, after a glimmer of
welcome framing of the film as being concerned with the code of ethics amongst
its circus folk, the writer again drops the piano on their foot by assuring us
that modern science has rendered this film a curio since ‘such blunders of nature’ are becoming a rarity.
It’s worth
mentioning one reasonable claim, not made here, in favour of the circus life of
the differently-abled, which is that it provided a sense of shared community
for performers who shared very unusual experiences and challenges. Without the
ready-made family set-up of the sideshow life, many would have led isolated lives
before our modern social media age of comforting connectivity.
Prologue
self-sabotage aside, Freaks as Tod
Browning’s film proper sets out its stall confidently as a mystery with an
anticipatory frisson of potential horror. We are introduced to a circus outside shouter who is showing customers around his attractions when a woman suddenly screams
at an unseen performer in a box. This prompts him to begin the story of the
artist, a once sought-after beauty: “She
was known as the peacock of the air…”
Above
various sub-plots, the main thread is the sickeningly exploitative plan by
Cleopatra to manipulate Hans into becoming her husband for the fortune she
hears he will inherit, told to her by the wounded and rejected Freda. Meanwhile
she carries on a secret tryst with Hercules and mocks Hans – firstly behind his
back and then most unforgivably in front of everyone at their wedding feast by
canoodling brazenly with Hercules. During the meal, the disabled performers do
their best to make the undeserving Cleopatra feel a kinship with them now. They
recite the haunting refrain “Gooba gobble.
One of us” repeatedly, while poor Hans sinks into a drunken misery of
gradual realisation that he has been deceived by the only real monster in the
film.
The turning
point is when Hans discovers that Cleopatra had poisoned him with Ptomaine and
is covertly dosing him further along with his medicine. This leads to one of
the most disturbing and thrilling climaxes in horror film history as the family
of the disabled close ranks to take revenge upon her. During the rain-soaked
night, armed with knives and other weapons, they crawl through the mud,
friendly faces now locked in impassive yet vengeful purpose toward her caravan.
We then cut to the result of what now remains of Cleopatra in the box: the frighteningly
macabre final image of her as the Human Duck, her lower torso cut off, her body
and face mutilated to resemble the bird, tarred and feathered for life, and
squawking pathetically. To the performers she once mocked so savagely for their
difference from her, she is now truly ‘one of us’.
This
brilliantly downbeat ending initially made M-G-M very nervous as did much of
the film after catastrophic feedback from test screenings. The original print
of Freaks was 90 minutes long and in
trying to reduce distress to audiences, the studio cut it to its present length
of 64 minutes to satisfy the New York censors. This was despite the fact that
it was in the brief more permissive era known as ‘pre-Code’ (between the full introduction
of sound in 1929 and the enforcement of the aforementioned Hollywood Production
Code in 1934). State censors dictated their own policies across America. M-G-M removed
much of the footage of the revenge attack upon Cleopatra, a castration of
Hercules, some comedy and added the filmed prologue device of the outside shouter. Arguably this may have helped the impact of the ending as we can only
imagine the awful torture wreaked upon Cleopatra that led to the hideous
result.
The studio
also tried alternate endings to soften the impact (available on the Region 1 Warner Home Video DVD) - for
example an epilogue where the now-rich Hans is reunited heart-warmingly with
Freda by Phroso and Venus some years later in his inherited mansion. She
comforts him that he was not to blame for the revenge, that he only wanted to
take the poison, and declares her love for him after all. This feels like a soft,
contrived fade-out after the bold original. There was a further crisis of
confidence tinkering whereby this scene was kept in while all the weak
expository dialogue was edited out, enabling a slightly stronger close, but ultimately
nothing matches the uncompromising, terrible power of finishing on that final retribution.
Freaks ended its short initial run as a commercial
failure, simply being too controversial material at that time in any form to be
welcomed by the mainstream. The film was shelved for over thirty years. It did
however gain a surprising second life courtesy of the radical hippie ethos
circulating in the 1960s. The counter-culture movement on student campuses
embraced what they considered to be sympathetic treatment of societal outsiders
in a period when suddenly the word ‘freak’ and the adjective ‘freaky’ would be
co-opted by youths who rejected authoritarian values and sincerely related to
those who either were or chose to live differently to the norm . Freaks
became hugely popular at midnight college screenings.
How apt that such an
ultimately difficult and divisive film should find a home in an ideal context
for stimulating hotly-argued debate. It still has the ability to challenge the
viewer in the present and for its flaws justifies its existence as film art...
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