Although director Tod Browning is best know for Dracula (1931), recent books and articles have illuminated the "freakish" side of his filmmaking...newcomer Steve Thorpe points out that there's more than one "freak" amongst cult directors as he takes us...
By Steven Thorpe
(Freaks 1932 B&W / She Freak 1967 Color)
"There are only two kinds of freaks, Ladies and Gentlemen –
Those created by God, and those created by man. Look if you must!"
The idea of remaking Tod Browning’s (Dracula, London After Midnight, The Unholy Three) infamous Freaks (1932, B&W) is an intriguing one. Browning’s classic horror tale of love, greed, deceit, and revenge (adapted from Tod Robbins’ story Spurs) is told in flashback with the simple framing device of a carnival barker explaining the sideshow freak’s code of honor: "Offend one – and you offend them all!" He then directs the crowd’s attention to the off-screen Thing-in-the-Pit. A woman screams at the sight of the hideous human monstrosity, and the barker begins his spiel: "Friends, she was once a beautiful woman . . . "
The beautiful, but scheming trapeze artist, Cleopatra, aided by her dimwitted lover, Hercules the Strong Man, formulate a plan to steal love-smitten Hans the midget’s inheritance money by seducing wee Hans into marrying Cleopatra and then doing away with him. They wed, and in the strangest wedding party ever filmed, the freak fraternity (comprised of real ‘human oddities’: Pinheads, the Human Skeleton, the Living Torso, Siamese Twins, the Arm-less Girl, the Leg-less Man, the Bird Girl, the Bearded Lady, the Half-Woman/Half-Man) accept Cleopatra into their fold, passing around and sharing wine from a loving cup as they chant the weird refrain:
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| Tod Browning's "freak" family on the set of Freaks. |
"We accept her / One of us / Gooble, gobble / Gooble, gobble / We accept her / One of us!"
This despite the fact that she has been drunkenly flirting with Hercules and ridiculing Hans (who’s champagne she has already poisoned) throughout the wedding feast. Cleo is appalled when offered the loving cup and savagely attacks their overtures of friendship and family, screaming: "Freaks! Freaks! Freaks! Get out!"
The subsequent revenge of the
freaks provides some of the more spine-chilling screen images
ever seen in a horror movie of that time (and they still retain a
classic grotesqueness today) as they stalk their victims through
the rain-soaked mud between the carny trailers. The stark black
and white images, forbiddingly lit by the flashing lightning
storm, of the deformed knife-wielding figures squirming through
the muck are unforgettably unsettling and disturbing. (The movie
was banned in England for years and helped destroy director
Browning’s career.)
The flashback ends as the barker concludes his story. In the final frames we see Cleopatra’s punishment: mutilated by the freaks, the once beautiful woman has been left a mindless, clucking horror; dressed up as a feathered, leg-less freak attraction -- forever more "One of us" with those she had wronged.
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Did I say that a remake of Freaks might be an interesting idea? Maybe. But not with this script, not with these actors, and not with this budget. The writer of She Freak, David F. Friedman, is most famous as an exploitation producer. He produced Herschell Gordon Lewis’ seminal ‘gore’ films 2000 Maniacs and Blood Feast. The director, Byron Mabe (Space Thing, The Acid Eaters) went on to do hardcore sex flicks under the name of ‘Ronnie Runningboard,’ so don’t expect a lot of subtly here. Now add to the mix a script that must have been thrown together over a grilled cheese sandwich and a goodly amount of beer; an ensemble of non-actors mouthing the non-dialog from said non-script with the all the passion of crash-test dummies being filmed just before impact; a set and lighting director who must have dismissed the whole thing with a shake of the head and a sad, "You must find what light you can," to quote Albert Finney from The Dresser; freaks who aren’t and a director who didn’t. Edit lightly and call it She Freak (1967, Color).
A two-bit waitress, Jade Cochran, kills time
working at a roadside cafe, desperately looking for a way out of
her dead-end life. Anyway
out. "Even if I have to lie, beg, cheat, or steal,"
Jade tells us. Enter, stage left, a silver-tongued devilish
advance man who stops into Jade’s workplace as he plasters
the greasy spoons along the way with carnival posters. Mr.
Mephistopheles is a likable chap and has the most interesting
scene in this Grade Z celluloid travesty. After clueing Jade into
the hot job opportunities available in the carny biz, he drives
away as we cut to an extreme close-up shot of his hand as he
inscribes a chalk arrow onto a telephone pole by the side of the
road – leaving a heavily symbolic trail-sign to help point
Jade down the path to her doom. OK, so Lost
Highway it’s not – in fact
it’s not even Manos: The Hands of Fate.
But for the briefest of moments, we are in the presence of actual
lukewarm evil.
Jade quits her dead-end job at the diner for a dead-end job waiting tables in the carnival food tent. But not for long. Jade has already set her sights on Steve St. John, the owner of the Ten-in-One -- the freak show; even though she is physically repulsed by the very sight of the freaks themselves. Oddly enough, the only ‘freaks’ we ever see are a midget, a sword swallower, a snake handler, and later on, a couple of guys in fright wigs and bad make-up. We are shown, however, some classic old-time-style sideshow murals advertising such attractions as the ‘Alligator Woman,’ the ‘Monkey Girl,’ and the mysterious ‘Atomic Girl’, who, due to budgetary limitations, could not actually be with us in today’s movie.
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| From "She"... | To "She Freak"... |
In one long, lyrical scene set to cheesy jazz music, Jade rides the Ferris Wheel on her lunch break, as the handsome, but sleazy ride operator, Blackie, leers up at her. *Plot point warning!* Jade weds St. John, but true to her white-trash nature, is carrying on an affair with the operator after-hours. Her infidelities are witnessed by St. John’s trusty right-hand midget pal, Shorty, who spills the beans to his boss. St. John confronts the interloper, and is stabbed to death by Blackie in the ensuing fight. The carny owner’s demise leaves Jade as Mistress of the Ten-in-One. Her first (and last) mistake as new owner of the show is to fire Shorty, whom she fears and despises. The freak’s (and I use the term very loosely) retribution is swift and horrible. Jade is hunted down the next night on the carnival grounds by two midgets, a fire eater, and a couple of seemingly normal looking guys who must have been the real freak’s stand-ins. They corner Jade and menace her with fire and knives while mugging into the camera evilly. Thankfully, the end of all this nonsense is in sight.
Amazingly enough, the big shocking pay-off scene of Jade’s transformation from pretty country-girl-waitress to hideous, mutilated She-Freak-in-the-Pit is quite effectively done. (There is even a bit of throwaway humor in a sign nailed above her enclosure reading: Please Do Not Feed or Tease the Creature.) Jade writhes in the dirt and sawdust clutching a snake to her breast; one side of her face and body horribly scarred; one huge poached-egg like eyeball staring balefully out at the normal world she has left behind forever. She stretches her hand towards the camera beckoning us to join her.
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In summation: Tod Browning’s original Freaks is must viewing for every horror fan interested in the early classics of the genre. She Freak, on the other hand, earns my Crow T. Robot "I want to kick this movie in the groin!" Award for all-round incompetence in horror film making.
An interesting analysis, Steve, one that goes beyond the glitz and glamor of the cinematic sideshow to expose the darkness within...and what a tasty treat for our Thanksgiving issue (gobble-gobble)! Cheers!
Article copyright Steven Thorpe
