THE FUNHOUSE
Eek!  Carnies!

  Tobe Hooper was a fluke (still is, I guess).  The man's made like fifteen movies, only three of which I can get behind guilt-free; that's a lousy batting average.  And one of them has always been at least as much about its reputation and image as it was about its own merits; The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was a worthy film indeed, but I suspect it would never have moved beyond cult status if it had just been called Leatherface.

All this having been said, The Funhouse is an asskicker of a little movie and remains the last remotely frightening thing Hooper ever did, and at 19 years without more, I've given up.  Blessed with an immortal tagline so good I'm sure it had to have predated this movie ("Pay to get in.  Pray to get out!"), this movie piqued my curiosity ever since I was a wee laddie, and I wasn't disappointed when I finally saw it a few years ago on A&E.

It doesn't start like that, though, it starts like a spoof of first Halloween (even imitating the same fallacious double-eyehole monoscopic vision thing) and then Psycho.  We're introduced to Amy (Elizabeth Berridge), who is waiting to be picked up for a double date to the carnival, and her little brother, who scares the crap out of her in the shower and is promised a vengeance the likes of which he cannot imagine.  She's picked up for her date (lying to her parents about where she's going, because girls keep getting killed every time this carnival rolls through town), seems impressed by the guy, and they all have a good time at the carnival, even in the freakshow tent. (tip: I can think of few things less likely to impress the chicks than taking them to a circus of animal deformities)  After enough pot, the foursome agree that it'd be really cool to stay overnight in the funhouse.  Naturally, they soon wish they'd went home, as they run afoul of the funhouse barker (Kevin Conway) and his mutant son, who wears a nasty, greasy Frankenstein's monster mask to hide a hideous face.

Hooper lets all the menace remain understated and distant for about half of the film, after which there is no relenting until the end.  We're shown a number of carnival sights; usually-drunk carnies, a lot of that wonderfully lurid carnival art and sculpture (the credits mention that Shari Lewis provided a dummy.  Where?), and overall a sense of barely-disguised menace. (great music by John Beal, too) Part of a carnival's chief appeal is to loudly promise terror ("Who is brave enough?  Who is mad enough?") with an unspoken (but understood) cushion of harmlessness.  Here, the previously mentioned murders help put some rocks in those cushions, and all this luridness takes on a disconcertingly honest quality.  Once things are taken to the next level inside the funhouse, things REALLY get creepy.

Amy is an interesting slasher-movie heroine; she's a virgin, but she's not averse to losing it to a guy she just met.  Not sure if I've seen that before.  (the actress went on to play an androgynous cop on The John Larroquette Show) The other three teens do their jobs without screwing up too badly, not exactly adorable but a far cry more likable than the teens from TCM, but it's the interplay between father and son here which makes this movie worth noting beyond its well-executed frights.

Conway is superb as the funhouse barker, making clear his torment at the life that's been his responsibility due to the son which will probably not ever go off and live on his own.  Like with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, this is a man to whom family is a priority, except here he's not a raving lunatic or a bloodless cannibal chef, just a man who's trying to protect his son.  He's no angel (he does make reference to his son's violent exploits in other towns), and the decisions he makes are not the ones I would, but I felt for the guy.

With only his movements and some shrieks (presumably looped by another actor) to convey things, mime Wayne Doba also does an excellent job as the barker's monstrous son.  He splendidly conveys lust, fear, tenderness, and curiosity, and all of it with an undercurrent of agonized rage.  It's easy to be revolted by his hideous face and inhuman actions, but again, he's human, and leads a tortured existence that invites sympathy.

Strange thing here; when I saw this on A&E, there are two things I seem to remember in that version that aren't here on this tape.  I somewhat muddily remember there being TWO nights at the carnival, with the foursome staying overnight only on the second.  But I very clearly recall a scene where Buzz (the date) meets Amy's parents, and the father asks him what he plans to do with his life, and he replies that he was thinking about joining the army.  Anybody else remember this?  At any rate, the film could have done without the subplot involving the little brother sneaking out to get to the carnival, which only serves to unnecessarily draw out the setup (and provide one good scene where Amy tries screaming for help but cannot be heard).

Speaking of extra scenes, Dean Koontz wrote the novelization to this under one of his 755 known pseudonyms, a book which has picked up a reputation of being the basis of the film and not vice versa.  The reason for this is that Koontz only used the events of the film in the last fifth or so of the book, with the remainder as, if I recall correctly, the backstory of the funhouse barker and Zippy The Cow-Faced Boy.  It's worth reading for fans of the film; it was written long before Koontz settled into that comfy formula of his.

Much of this film seemed to be "squeezed" to pack most of the 2.35:1 image onto a TV screen aspect ratio - quick, what's the technical term for The Squeeze?  I hate The Squeeze.  At any rate, The Funhouse is (God forgive me) a great ride (Brian hangs his head in shame), and I actually prefer it to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  

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