“American Horror Story: Freak Show” 4.1 – Monsters Among Us; Written by Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk; Directed by Ryan Murphy; Starring Jessica Lange, Evan Peters, Kathy Bates, Sarah Paulson, and John Carroll Lynch.
I just keep staring at the screen and sighing. Long, meditative sighs. In through the nose, out through the mouth, count to four. Oh, American Horror Story… We’re entering year four and I still can’t decide if I love to hate you or I hate to love you.
Season four of the anthology takes place in 1952 in Jupiter, Florida. Elsa Mars (Lange) runs a Cabinet of Curiosities just outside of town, and the show and its performers tend to cause public controversy and private intrigue within the small city. Elsa has amassed a crew of unique performers, but due to lack of interest or utter scorn, the side show is going broke and rarely draws an audience. Luckily there’s a weird, dirty clown committing murders in the very same town, because you need a pretty solid subplot when one of your main characters has three boobies. It’s sentences like that that make me wonder if this is really happening or if I’m just having a fever dream brought on by some bad buffalo sauce.
The episode started out as they frequently do – beautifully. Those first few moments were like a kiss from the ex that you know is terrible for you but damned if he ain’t able to sweep you off your feet. The camera work was flawless and the weird prepared piano score I associate with the show now plays along with a pulse that manages to be orchestral and synthetic at the same time. The new score element is striking. Even though the pulse is rhythmic, it’s timbre is off and it manages to be disorienting and somehow upsetting. It put me in the mind of music from “Irreversible,” though I can’t specify why and I’m certainly not going to watch that one again to spell it out (pro-tip: you don’t need to see “Irreversible.” I’m not going to tell you not to watch it, but I promise that you’ll be fine and secure as a film fan if you don’t).
Our intro to Dot and Bette was so perfectly crafted that it made me a little sad that AHS exists in a world with easy publicity and spoilers. Clues were laid out to foreshadow a big reveal in such detail – only one foot had painted toes and Elsa’s balloons echoed a silhouette, but we’ve known for months that Sarah Paulson would be playing conjoined twins. Sadly, there was no moment. Paulson’s FX is ambitious and while it consistently works, it never quite hits a seamless mark.
My moderate disappointment was forgotten as the title credits rolled, because the little stop-motion sequence was so reminiscent of the Brothers Quay. But then there was a masturbation discussion before the second commercial break and I realized I hadn’t done any eye-roll calisthenics to prepare for the premiere.
But for the first two thirds of the 90 minute premiere, I needn’t have worried. My fun far outweighed drudgery. The set dressing is beautiful and a stark contrast to the Gothic suffocation of the the first three installments. That tone was never out of place for previous stories, but it’s nice to see the art direction go from mansions and marble labyrinths to Bakelite and pastel Mod. Costuming is on point, and I love how Elsa’s garb looks glamorous and refined to viewers but really only sets her apart as out of fashion to her peers in Jupiter. I’m greatly looking forward to watching the creative team flex their nostalgia and hearing the choices the show’s music supervisor chooses for pop music ambiance. So far so good. I took issue with the Lobster Boy Sex Party (because I think there’s a better way to nod at Grady Stiles but oh yeah this show is allergic to subtlety), and thought the blackmail 8mm went on a bit too long (oh my god we get it Peppermint Girl had a lot of opium sex with people that look different). That particular character and event also stuck out as naught but an excuse for Lange to rant philosophical and establish her role as the mama bear that isn’t afraid to maul a predator. It was a great speech, but didn’t need the debauchery to get there.
Even Twisty the Clown, whose scenes were blunt and gorey, was not overplayed. Please keep in mind we’re grading on the AHS curve, but Twisty was an appropriate horror trope. I’ve been told to expect an extreme reveal regarding his character next week, and will confess to a fair amount of curiosity with a heaping helping of cynicism. I’m not easily shocked or grossed out, and with weeks of “oh my god you guys” play ups from the show’s cast and creators I anticipate a trombone noise.
Yeah. I was having an OK time. My biggest distraction that far in had been trying to figure out who Kathy Bates sounds like. It’s Dr. Evil, by the way. I don’t really understand the accent choice but Bates has an Oscar and I don’t so we’ll roll with it for now.
Yup. Good time. I had even stopped taking notes because I was getting into the swing of things. I was digging the return of Naomi Grossman, who has the distinction of playing the only character to cross seasons. I was marveling at Jessica Lange’s commitment to those brows. And then?
The musical number. Jesus wept. Nope, we are not sharing a fever dream. The show entered into a Bowie song like a fart in church that leaves everyone with flared nostrils and accusatory glares.
Jessica Lange comes out in a blue pants suit and some admittedly fabulous blue eyeshadow and sings a song that was released in 1971. She sings it to an audience of two while elsewhere, she also watches her own performance in some weird Pagliacci get up and GOD I hate this show. Oh, oh, did I mention the orchestra of Little People? Yeah. Orchestra of Little People poorly miming musicianship while a German woman sings a Bowie song. Could I forgive this as a singular incident? Probably. I’ll even concede that out of context (which is a shitty word choice considering there was no context and that’s the problem) this sequence is probably pretty damn cool. But the previews lead me to believe that this might be a weekly occurrence and so help me God if Matthew Morrison shows up with a butt chin or a penis foot I am out. Do you hear me, I AM OUT.
And then Ethel (Bates) raves about how much money they made from the sold out crowd (what is happening in this show?!!?) while Elsa smokes opium and there’s a big reveal that I hope and pray has a purpose because if not, it’s a cheap and moderately fetishist ploy to grant Elsa her own “freak” status. Upon further consideration I have to grant the show credit for finding my personal line and crossing it with something others might perceive as mild, subtle and plausible.
I do look forward to more Frances Conroy and son, as their characters at first glance seem to be AHS getting it right. They’re weird and their creep factor is still a little muddy, but they are also unpretentiously surreal (unlike, you know, a goddamned Bowie number). Next week both viewers and Twisty will get a peak into their home life.
We’ll also get to meet some new members of the carnival – strong man Michael Chiklis and surplus breasted Angela Bassett. I’m sorry, can anyone out there see three boobs and not go right to “Total Recall”? Let’s all write to Paul Verhoeven and thank him for ruining tetra-boobery for eternity.
Twelve more weeks to go.