I don’t even know where to begin but I know that I do need to begin. Carnivàle is one of the weirdest television shows that I have ever watched. I am a big fan of weird but after watching the first of the two broadcast seasons, I cannot quite gauge whether the HBO series classifies as ‘successful weird’ or ‘WTF weird’. The fact that that it lasted only two seasons gives the thumbs up to ‘WTF weird’. Objectors to this supposition claim that Carnivàle’s short lifespan is a result of the fact that viewers just didn’t get the complexities of the show’s themes and expression. Is Carnivàle so brilliant that it surpasses the grasp of the mediocre intelligence of the masses, or does it merely lack that special formula that grasps audiences by the throat and commands them to sit and watch? The themes are complex, the characters are unconventional and the tone of the show is bleak – certainly not ingredients for easy viewing or light entertainment. Yet it is shows like this that most often develop a cult following of fans that can propel the show past two seasons. But Carnivàle’s cult following did not provide a force of nature strong enough to ensure that ratings warranted a third season. And so the point stands: why?
Formulating a discussion of Carnivàle seems to contradict the nature of the show – it is an attempt to create some kind of cohesion from something that is not cohesive. Carnivàle is a cinematic Dali construction – obtuse and yet so very poignant. The show is set in the American Dust Bowl (prairie lands that were savaged by severe dust storms in the 1930s) during the Great Depression. It presents an austere look at the lives of a group of ‘carnies’ that travel from town to town performing. Carnivàle decapitates the grandiosity of the American Dream – a concept particularly rife in the 1920s. However, America was certainly no dream for many of its inhabitants. The fantastical and supernatural elements within the show, which serve as a vehicle for the show’s major themes, ironically serve to emphasise the harsh realities of the time. Poverty and unemployment were results of the economic crisis that was an aftermath of the Wall Street crash. And to make matters worse, natural disasters (including drought) added to the nation’s miseries. Life was struggle for survival – of mind body and soul. And none personify this struggle better than the travelling carnival in Carnivàle.
The carnival comprises society’s rejects – the deformed and the misunderstood. From the ironically named carnival manager
Samson (a dwarf rather than the biblical man of strength) to a catatonic tarot card reader and a bearded lady. Carnivàle looks at society’s mistreatment of those who do not conform to its values of normality. Values set by whom? Man, God? Mistreatment happens in the form of banishment as well as a fascination with that which is out of the ordinary, which results in the objectification of those less ordinary beings. The hypocrisy of the individuals who enforce these ‘codes of normality’ is a point of contemplation in Season One, which overlaps with the religious commentary that permeates and drives the show. Just as the carnies exist in opposition to society, so too does the migrant community exist in opposition to Brother Justin’s congregation, who ostracize the poor from the church. The community thus dehumanises the migrant community and redefines them as ‘other’. The notion of ‘otherness’ and whether it is subjectively or objectively (or both) defined is a philosophical debate activated by Carnivàle.
The Minister, Brother Justin Crowe, is one of two central characters – the other is Ben Hawkins. Hawkins, a convict on the run, joins the carnies as a hired hand rather than a freak. As the show progresses, the notions of free will and destiny clash as Hawkins struggles with realisation that he was destined to join the carnival and is destined to be some kind of saviour. He seems trapped by destiny and his attempts to enact his ‘free will’ are often thwarted by an ultimate result that was always meant to be.
Both Hawkins and Brother Justin are ‘freaks’ in their own right. Ben Hawkins has the power to heal and give life and Brother Justin has the power of insight and control. Brother Justin, a man of the cloth, embraces his power as he naturally assumes it to be a gift from God. Ben, on the other hand, has been taught by a hyper-religious mother to fear his gift. Yet the two men are connected, as evidenced by mutually recurring dreams featuring similar scenarios and characters. As season one progresses 
Brother Justin comes to realise that his power is anything but Godly. Whether this is because Brother Justin’s human nature has warped and twisted his gift or whether it is a demonically influenced ability (or perhaps a bit of both) is one of those ambiguities that Carnivàle specialises in. Ben’s power, although apparently good, has a dark side. To heal he must draw life from another living thing – a fish, a field of grass, a person – whatever is at hand. Again, the viewer is left to decipher the origins of this power. The tension between good and evil alerts the audience to the potential for a climactic event involving face-off between Ben Hawkins and Brother Justin, respective representatives of good and evil. Biblically, the battle between good and evil signifies the age-old war between God and Satan, which is to climax into Armageddon, a final apocalyptic battle. The potential for an imminent apocalypse, once again, elicits the characterstic tone of ambiguity associated with the show: if Ben Hawkins is a representative of good (God), one would assume that his power is God-given yet it is a power of destructive and creative properties – why is an imperfect, fallible man presented with the ability to wield such an ambiguous power? Daniel Knauf, the show’s creator, seems to make a statement concerning the nature of God and religion. Christian values are undermined and often associated with hypocrisy in the show. Knauf also seems to blur the lines created by religion and infuses Christianity and occultism without the blink of an eye. The obvious point is that religion (Christianity in particular) is superfluous and ultimately all religions are symptomatic of the same thing – man’s weakness. Ironically, Knauf relies on biblical concepts and principles as the crux of the show’s plot, and then he twists them to make a philosophical observation. Again, the ambiguity is poignant: Christian doctrine is sufficiently solid for the foundations required to make a greater point that ultimately refutes Christian principles and doctrine. Is Knauf therefore saying that religion is futile? Perhaps man has given it a purpose? It is these ambiguities that keep me glued, and I feel rewarded for my efforts.
Knauf’s religious commentary serves as a metaphoric representation of the human condition: confused and neither right nor wrong. A very dangerous supposition. Knauf dissolves absolutes as characters behave within their context, seemingly making their choices acceptable. Knauf places the viewer in the seat of judgement, which serves to expose the irony of human nature. We judge the characters, either by deeming their choices acceptable or unacceptable. And the viewer thus becomes a demigod, an attitude many of us exude in our real living. We judge others according to a standard – our own standard of right and wrong that is defined by external sources, and yet we do not wish the same treatment upon ourselves.
Theatrical, symbolic and surreal: the show succeeds in its expression – through which it raises some interesting ideological points. But what makes a show successful is the viewer’s affinity with the characters presented by the actors and the creators of a show. Carnivàle provides intellectual stimulation but the show’s ability to make its audience care about its characters on an emotive level is not convincing – perhaps the flaw defining characteristic.
Other posts you might like:
Carnivàle
Formulating a discussion of Carnivàle seems to contradict the nature of the show – it is an attempt to create some kind of cohesion from something that is not cohesive. Carnivàle is a cinematic Dali construction – obtuse and yet so very poignant. The show is set in the American Dust Bowl (prairie lands that were savaged by severe dust storms in the 1930s) during the Great Depression. It presents an austere look at the lives of a group of ‘carnies’ that travel from town to town performing. Carnivàle decapitates the grandiosity of the American Dream – a concept particularly rife in the 1920s. However, America was certainly no dream for many of its inhabitants. The fantastical and supernatural elements within the show, which serve as a vehicle for the show’s major themes, ironically serve to emphasise the harsh realities of the time. Poverty and unemployment were results of the economic crisis that was an aftermath of the Wall Street crash. And to make matters worse, natural disasters (including drought) added to the nation’s miseries. Life was struggle for survival – of mind body and soul. And none personify this struggle better than the travelling carnival in Carnivàle.
The carnival comprises society’s rejects – the deformed and the misunderstood. From the ironically named carnival manager
Samson (a dwarf rather than the biblical man of strength) to a catatonic tarot card reader and a bearded lady. Carnivàle looks at society’s mistreatment of those who do not conform to its values of normality. Values set by whom? Man, God? Mistreatment happens in the form of banishment as well as a fascination with that which is out of the ordinary, which results in the objectification of those less ordinary beings. The hypocrisy of the individuals who enforce these ‘codes of normality’ is a point of contemplation in Season One, which overlaps with the religious commentary that permeates and drives the show. Just as the carnies exist in opposition to society, so too does the migrant community exist in opposition to Brother Justin’s congregation, who ostracize the poor from the church. The community thus dehumanises the migrant community and redefines them as ‘other’. The notion of ‘otherness’ and whether it is subjectively or objectively (or both) defined is a philosophical debate activated by Carnivàle.
The Minister, Brother Justin Crowe, is one of two central characters – the other is Ben Hawkins. Hawkins, a convict on the run, joins the carnies as a hired hand rather than a freak. As the show progresses, the notions of free will and destiny clash as Hawkins struggles with realisation that he was destined to join the carnival and is destined to be some kind of saviour. He seems trapped by destiny and his attempts to enact his ‘free will’ are often thwarted by an ultimate result that was always meant to be.
Both Hawkins and Brother Justin are ‘freaks’ in their own right. Ben Hawkins has the power to heal and give life and Brother Justin has the power of insight and control. Brother Justin, a man of the cloth, embraces his power as he naturally assumes it to be a gift from God. Ben, on the other hand, has been taught by a hyper-religious mother to fear his gift. Yet the two men are connected, as evidenced by mutually recurring dreams featuring similar scenarios and characters. As season one progresses
Brother Justin comes to realise that his power is anything but Godly. Whether this is because Brother Justin’s human nature has warped and twisted his gift or whether it is a demonically influenced ability (or perhaps a bit of both) is one of those ambiguities that Carnivàle specialises in. Ben’s power, although apparently good, has a dark side. To heal he must draw life from another living thing – a fish, a field of grass, a person – whatever is at hand. Again, the viewer is left to decipher the origins of this power. The tension between good and evil alerts the audience to the potential for a climactic event involving face-off between Ben Hawkins and Brother Justin, respective representatives of good and evil. Biblically, the battle between good and evil signifies the age-old war between God and Satan, which is to climax into Armageddon, a final apocalyptic battle. The potential for an imminent apocalypse, once again, elicits the characterstic tone of ambiguity associated with the show: if Ben Hawkins is a representative of good (God), one would assume that his power is God-given yet it is a power of destructive and creative properties – why is an imperfect, fallible man presented with the ability to wield such an ambiguous power? Daniel Knauf, the show’s creator, seems to make a statement concerning the nature of God and religion. Christian values are undermined and often associated with hypocrisy in the show. Knauf also seems to blur the lines created by religion and infuses Christianity and occultism without the blink of an eye. The obvious point is that religion (Christianity in particular) is superfluous and ultimately all religions are symptomatic of the same thing – man’s weakness. Ironically, Knauf relies on biblical concepts and principles as the crux of the show’s plot, and then he twists them to make a philosophical observation. Again, the ambiguity is poignant: Christian doctrine is sufficiently solid for the foundations required to make a greater point that ultimately refutes Christian principles and doctrine. Is Knauf therefore saying that religion is futile? Perhaps man has given it a purpose? It is these ambiguities that keep me glued, and I feel rewarded for my efforts.
Knauf’s religious commentary serves as a metaphoric representation of the human condition: confused and neither right nor wrong. A very dangerous supposition. Knauf dissolves absolutes as characters behave within their context, seemingly making their choices acceptable. Knauf places the viewer in the seat of judgement, which serves to expose the irony of human nature. We judge the characters, either by deeming their choices acceptable or unacceptable. And the viewer thus becomes a demigod, an attitude many of us exude in our real living. We judge others according to a standard – our own standard of right and wrong that is defined by external sources, and yet we do not wish the same treatment upon ourselves.
Theatrical, symbolic and surreal: the show succeeds in its expression – through which it raises some interesting ideological points. But what makes a show successful is the viewer’s affinity with the characters presented by the actors and the creators of a show. Carnivàle provides intellectual stimulation but the show’s ability to make its audience care about its characters on an emotive level is not convincing – perhaps the flaw defining characteristic.
Other posts you might like: