Okay, full disclosure: the review copy of this film has been sitting on my shelf for the better part of a year. This was not due to lack of interest, I have always been fascinated by the concept of the circus sideshow, but more because of a question of procedure… how the hell do you do a review of a documentary?
There’s no real writing or storyline to speak of. No acting or special effects. Any critique of a documentary, I assumed, would have to be based upon nothing but directing choices. But this kind of movie does create a narrative all its own, and I’m glad I finally gave this one a chance.
The film opens with a quote from legendary circus promoter P.T. Barnum, as read by magician Penn Jillette, over footage of the Coney Island theme park during the off-season. It’s interesting to see such a famous landmark, usually a hub of social interaction and amusement, completely empty. The camera lingers on shots of unmanned and inanimate bumper cars and ferris wheels, creating a sense of calm and serenity.
But this scene of quiet tranquility doesn’t last long. There is a sudden flash of lightning, and the film cuts to footage of sideshow performer Todd Robbins eating a fucking light bulb. No tricks. No background music. Just the sound of gasps from the audience as he bites into it, chews, and swallows every last shard of glass, throwing the stem away like an apple core.
As the scene continues, Robbins begins the first of a series of interviews with the filmmakers that will serve as the narration of the film. We are then introduced to a number of other performers: lasso spinners, jugglers, illusionists, a bearded lady…
According to Robbins, who quickly emerges as the central figure of the documentary, there are three types of sideshow performers. There are “freaks”, or people who are born different from others. These are the performers that most people think of when they think of the circus sideshow. There are “self-made freaks”, or people who were born normal for all intents and purposes, but then modified themselves somehow. This would include classic sideshow performers such as the Strongman or the Tattooed Lady.
The third group, and the one that this documentary mainly deals with, is the “working act”. These are people, like Robbins himself, who simply perform feats of skill or endurance that seem impossible. Of these performers, he is one of the most versatile and well-known among his peers. Besides eating light bulbs, Robbins also eats fire, pounds nails into his nose, puts his hand into bear traps, swallows swords, walks on broken bottles, does illusions, etc. On top of this he has acted as a “barker” (or as those in the business call it, an “outside talker”) for over twenty years.
Though Robbins functions as the film’s protagonist, of sorts, he is by no means the only performer featured in the film. There is also Jennifer, who also goes by the stage name “Xenobia, the woman with a beard”. There is Harley Newman, who specializes in lying on beds of nails. There’s Chris McDaniel, a performer of the “Wild West arts”, which include whips, lasso tricks, and knife throwing. There’s Ula, the Pain-Proof Rubber Girl, a contortionist and fire dancer. But perhaps the most cringe-inducing of the performers is the Great Nippulini, who hangs heavy objects such as anvils and even engine blocks from his earrings and nipple rings.
The history of the sideshow is briefly discussed, but the film focuses much more on modern performers. Though this particular form of entertainment is lamentably waning in popularity these days, there are still a few places in the USA where one can find it.
We meet the owner and operator of the Brothers Grim Circus Sideshow, a self-contained act that tours the country throughout the Summer season and proudly touts itself as one of the only places at which you can still see the classic ten-act sideshow format. There is the modern incarnation of the legendary Coney Island Sideshow in New York City, where Robbins and many of his cohorts attempt to keep the traditional acts alive for new generations. We are also given a tour of a museum of artifacts from circuses, midways, and freak shows called the American Dime Museum, and we sit in on a session of a modern sideshow performance school taught by Robbins himself.
Whether the viewer enjoys American Carny or not depends mostly upon how much interest they have in sideshow performers, obviously. But much of the appeal of the film also lies in its humanity. The enthusiasm these performers have for their jobs is evident, and infectious. No one gets rich off of this. They do it for no other reason than love of what they do.
A lot of the film’s charm also comes from Todd Robbins himself, as he gets the majority of screentime. He is a charming and knowledgeable character, who has devoted nearly every waking moment to the carnival lifestyle. Some of the highlights of the film include video from Robbins’ wedding ceremony to his wife Krista (which of course doubled as a performance) and Robbins’ tearful recollection of his close friend and performance mentor, Melvin Burkhart, whose last show was at the wedding only a few weeks before his death. The whole film is one huge love letter to the sideshow.
So, going back to the question at hand, how does one review a documentary? Let me give it a try… American Carny is a straightforward, but ably directed, attempt to show the intense passion and commitment that an increasingly small group of performers have for a nearly forgotten genre of entertainment and performance art. It functions both as a snapshot of the sideshow industry in the modern age and as a profile of a single man who has dedicated his life to the career he loves. I would recommend it to documentary fans, those who are interested in performance, or anyone who ever dreamt of running away with the circus when they were a kid. Or an adult.
-T.J. Coolguy
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