I only recently heard about
In It For the Kill's carnival blogathon, and I'm coming really close to the deadline here with my post. The blogathon was scheduled for June 21, and silly me, I waited until the very last minute to watch a flick that holds some nostalgic feelings for me.
For the Carnival of Blood blogathon, we're supposed to pick a carnival-themed horror film to write about. But what is it about the carnival that seems so scary? For one, carnivals tend to pick up and move quickly - it seems they've just pulled into town before they're off again on another road trip for a new town. It's this strange nomad lifestyle that attracts the attention of viewers, because who's to say that the band of marauding carnival runners aren't lunatics who escaped from an insane asylum and can't settle down for fear of being tracked down? The mysteries of the carnival owners are so hidden because most have never met the town, nor does anyone have an impression of who they are. It breeds distrust, and distrust breeds fear.
But there's also the idea that the carnival can attract strange people from all parts of town. Because carnivals tend to settle in smaller towns and villages that might not have the attractions and amenities of city life, there's both a tendency to know almost everyone at the carnival and be unsure of some strange faces that have been drawn from the seedier parts of town. In essence, the carnival brings out the best and worst of people, and those lurkers of the dark could be the ones who snatch up parentless children who think they're out for a night of mischief.
And then there's the funhouse - which also happens to be the movie I picked to focus on for the Carnival of Blood. Funhouses can be the same as their namesake, or quite the opposite - a scary (or boring) ride through various haunted house props and music. But what if there's more behind the funhouse than plastic skeletons and Vincent Price-influenced screams?
Tobe Hooper explores this in
The Funhouse (also known as
Carnival of Terror), a 1981 slasher about a mysterious carnival that sets up shop in a small town, rumored to be the source of a couple of killings in another town. It just so happens our heroine and her troop of pot-smoking teens are heading out to the fair for a night of shmoozing and sex - and they decide to test their nerves and spend the night inside the funhouse. After witnessing a mutated freak from the show, aptly dressed as Frankenstein's monster, kill a gypsy/prostitute (you'll have to see the movie to figure that one out), the teens are locked in the funhouse and tortured by the monster and his owner.
It sounds pretty cut-and-dry, but I have been a huge fan of the movie ever since I first saw it. You might have read about my fascination with it in my article on AMC's Fear Fridays, but if you didn't, I first caught
The Funhouse on late-night TV and couldn't get enough of the campy monster and the excellent setpieces of the horror ride. Though it's probably not deserving of the esteem in which I hold it, my answer to the question of why I like it so much can be summed up in two simple words: "just because." That's right, there's not really a rhyme or reason to my obsession of the film. But I'll try to narrow my thoughts down to a select few parts of the equation.
I think part of the allure is the constant odes to previous horror and slasher movies. You'll see a lot of references to
Frankenstein, but there's more to it than that. The opening scene takes a huge cue from
Halloween, but it turns the scenario on its head by surprising the viewer with a fake killing (and some soapy boobs, mind you).
The carnival itself is displayed in its full glory by a lengthy scene in which the teens participate in the various activities offered. In this way, the film moves slowly but effectively to its major plot point, rather than jumping to the action right away. Indeed,
The Funhouse is a film that explores a rigidly glacial pace, balancing character exposition with action in just the right way to allow for maximum tension. The same goes for the slayings, which occur in tightly-sequenced but distanced places in the film. Since there are only four main characters, Hooper paces the killings accordingly, and none feel too rushed or harried.
But the main draw is obviously the giant, atmospheric funhouse, which turns on and off variously throughout the film. The gloom of the murky house is ever present, sometimes coupled with red lighting or stained glass for eerie effect. The props and scares of the funhouse are doled out here and there, and some of the dead characters are presented via the funhouse ride in creepy and strangely humorous ways, just like the good old slashers of yore. Hooper even manages to get a boiler room scene in for those who enjoy the scenery of rusty hooks and steam-spouting pistons.
If you're looking for a scary but darkly comic and campy carnival film, look no further than
The Funhouse. A slasher with all of its ideas in the right place, it brings the spookiness of "Something Wicked This Way Comes" and incorporates a bit of
Halloween for a fun and frightful romp through a carnival's sinister company. Put down the stakes, play a few games on the midway, and stay awhile - ride
The Funhouse all night long.