Carnivàle Turns 20

20 years ago today marked the television premiere of the HBO television show Carnivàle (2003-2005).

Of course I’m a fan of this show, given its Depression era carnival setting, though like most folks who’ve seen it, I have some major issues with it. The show had been recommended to me by a friend from my Big Apple Circus days. I didn’t have HBO at the time but I caught it a couple of years after its cancelation through the miracle of Netflix’s then-new mail-order DVD library subscription service (which I’ll never forget was recommended to me by the great clown Eric Davis. Yes, circus people ARE always recommending things to me. Only, yesterday, one of them recommended this). And I watched the prematurely cancelled show’s two seasons in their entirety.

What I especially like about the show was being in that world, of course. I think that would be the primary attraction, to spend a lot of time in the world depicted in Freaks and Nightmare Alley and all sorts of movies of the 1930s. Our “Virgil” for the experience, played by Nick Stahl, is a literal Fugitive from a Chain Gang, who hides out in the show and gets drawn into its world. It quickly emerges that he has unsuspected ties to it, and that he himself possesses certain miraculous skills. The circus boss “Samson” is played by none other than little person Michael J. Anderson from Twin Peaks. He is aided and abetted by one “Jonesy”, the gimpy and suspicious ferris wheel operator (Tim DeKay). Adrienne Barbeau as the snake charmer Ruthie was the most familiar cast member when the show launched; she brought with her appropriate associations with the horror films of John Carpenter. Her son Gabriel, a mentally impaired strong man, was played by Ben Turk. There are a lot of pairs on the show, and lots of maimed or otherwise unwell people. Clea Duvall is the young tom boyish fortune teller Sofie, whose skills actually come from her catatonic mother Apollonia (Diane Salinger), to whom she has psychic ties. Belgian actor Patrick Bachau plays Professor Lodz, yet another mentalist, this one a blind man. Debra Christofferson as Lila, the Bearded Lady of Brussels, is his consort. Then there is the sleezy “Stumpy” (Toby Huss) who pimps out his wife and two daughters (Cynthia Ettinger, Carla Gallo, Amanda Aday) in the cooch tent. Performance artist John Fleck (one of the famous NEA Four) plays Gecko, the Lizard Man (who mercifully refrains from trying to sell us car insurance). Paul Hipp plays Bert/Bertha, a He/She, who is married to Sabina the Scorpion Lady (Bree Walker, an actress who actually has the Lobster Boy condition, ectrodactyly). There are several other genuine “special people” in the cast. Real life identical twins and circus performers Karyne and Sarah Steben play conjoined sisters Alexandria and Caladonia. Contortionist and entertainer Daniel Browning Smith plays a character who goes by both Rollo the Rubberboy and Boneless Billy Benson. And pituitary giant Matthew McGrory is also in the cast.

And that’s enough, right? Ye Gods, you would think so. It’s enough for me. I’d certainly be able to make a LONG running freak show soap opera out of just that cast of characters, and their endless conflicts with local law enforcement, prejudiced town folk, and each other. But, unfortunately, no. The first signs of trouble may be gleaned from the spelling of the show’s title. Both the American traveling show and the European holiday festival are conventionally spelled “Carnival”. The Italian version of the latter is spelled “Carnevale”. So, what is this? There is no explanation. The show’s creator Daniel Knauf apparently spelled it that way so that it would stand out. In other words, it is random, which to me is bad judgment.

But that’s nothing to what follows, because what I have described is only half (or less) of what constitutes the show. The other half is represented by Clancy Brown as a crusading but evil Father Coughlin style radio preacher, his controlling sister (Amy Madigan) and others from his world (notably Ralph Waite from The Waltons). And there’s this whole involved and frankly cliched arc involving Armageddon. I found this business even drearier than a Dust Bowl, because by now we have been down this road 75,000 times, haven’t we? It’s been done to death! Evil preachers and the end of the world? It’s no longer imaginative. It’s the first and last resort of lazy writers, the easiest, lamest path to take, a way of avoiding originality. But this hackneyed, sophomoric business actually takes up the bulk of the focus on the show, like some spreading cancer, like locusts attacking a cornfield. It was a huge disappointment for me, who had been so eager to watch a show about, ya know, a CARNIVAL. Just a carnival. It’s enough. (A note I would also give to Ryan Murphy, as well: a carnival. It’s enough). That’s the theme of today’s sermon, Brothers and Sisters. A carnival: it’s enough, goddamn it.

And I reckon other folks felt the same way, or similarly. Viewership was not sufficient to sustain the show and it suffered its own untimely destruction at the hands of the network long before its 1,000 different plot threads were resolved. The Lord Giveth, and The Lord Taketh Away. Yea, Brother, Hallelujah!