Hooper, who did the unsettling Dance of the Dead episode for Masters of Horror on Showtime, as well as the all-time family classic, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), presents a not so pretty picture of carnival life, and a somewhat pathetic—and homicidal—monster with a decidedly grotesque visage and penchant for mayhem.
The opening of the film is a nod to Halloween and Psycho, and from there builds into a creepy story revolving around teen lust, sleazy carnival characters, and a man-made monster that has needs like everyone else, but cannot satisfy them in more socially acceptable ways. A fascinating subtext running through the story is that it is a variation on the tragedy of Dr. Frankenstein and his monster. In Tobe Hooper’s tale, the monster is one born of genetic mutation, cleverly foreshadowed by the Freak Animals Alive tent exhibit, where the fetal brother of the monster floats in a jar as an abominable attraction for the hoi polloi.
In the film’s opening sequence, the Frankenstein Monster is shown, first as a poster showing the Glenn Strange characterization (my favorite!), and then as a Mego doll—oh sorry, action figure—carried by the young boy, Joey, whose sister soon curses him because of his bizarre prank that scares the wits out of her. Joey’s actions are also another subtext running through the film: he dons a mask to become a monster to frighten his sister, and the funhouse monster wears a mask to become less frightening to others.
Unlike the current crop of horror films driving the story with eye (popping)-candy, here the characters are presented with choices, yet consistently make the wrong ones. And as we all know, in a horror film when you make the wrong choices someone--or more likely-- everyone winds up dead. Amy, Buzz, Liz, Ritchie, and Joey consistently make the wrong choices, and suffer the dire consequences. In the tale of Dr. Frankenstein and his monstrous creation, wrong choices also led to death and disaster. But at least here we have the funhouse; iconic fodder for numerous urban legends and rustic tales told around camp fires and sleep-over parties.
The funhouse is surrounded by the carnival, a seedy, grimy affair filled with seedy and grimy denizens. There is a bag lady that looks very much like Grandmama from the Addams Family spouting “god is watching you!;” a homeless man that wanders around like a zombie from Night of the Living Dead; a few bums; the past-her-prime fortuneteller and palm reader (well played by Sylvia Miles); the not so magnificent Marco the Magician, and the carny barkers (three of them, superbly played by Kevin Conway as if he were a natural).
Properly toned by John Beal’s score and Andrew Lazlo’s moody cinematography, the loud and brightly lit carnival facade hides a darker, more primitive underbelly of murderous anarchy, repressed emotions, and dark secrets, with its nexus the funhouse. Hooper’s use of two tracking crane shots, one at the beginning and one at the ending of the mayhem, emphasize this emanation of evil flowing first toward the funhouse, and then away from the funhouse.
Our hapless group of monster fodder soon regrets their decision to stay the night in the funhouse, and Joey soon regrets sneaking out from his bedroom—down the trusty-trellis-by-the-window to visit the carnival. We also learn that the father of the monster has regrets about letting it live, in a scene that contains a wealth of hinted at backstory. Because of his decisions he must share responsibility for its murderous actions.
The fun-seeking and frisky teens decide to spend a night in the funhouse after closing time, and after the requisite fun-that-must-soon-be punished-for scenes, they witness a murder, and promptly wind up stepping deeper and deeper into a big pile of no return. One of them makes another spur-of-the-moment bad decision, and because of it the wrong people learn about their presence in the locked funhouse.
Scenes of mayhem and carnage follow, as one by one, the teens meet their untimely and grisly death in 1980's horror fashion. A particularly harrowing image has our heroine calling to her parents through a large, wildly-spinning exhaust fan, but of course they cannot hear her because she is too far away--in the funhouse, where her parents specifically told her not to go; and they are at the carnival to retrieve their errant son, Joey, who also disobeyed them. People who disobey in horror films suffer dire consequences for their actions, and he is no exception. His parents meet the shady and perhaps too-interested carnival handyman that found Joey sneaking around the tents. His actions are never quite clear, and Joey is strangely out of it, so we never really know what happened here, but whatever it is it's unsavory.
The climactic confrontation in the mechanical belly of the funhouse is suitably horrific, yet uses little gore, and, unlike the requisite sequelization-antics of many fright films today, provides a definitive closure. Unlike the simplistic snuff-horror by the numbers approach in today’s films, The Funhouse explores themes and provides a story depth worth seeing, along with the thrills and chills.
I remember this movie from when I was young. I remember it freaking me out, but that was rather easy when I was young. Got me curious what a more mature...well, older me would think.
Posted by: kanrei | August 24, 2006 at 09:04 PM