Mention its Oscar win for Best Picture, or even the film itself in general, and many a cinephile will snort and sneer at Cecile B. DeMille’s 1952 circus melodrama royale. For anyone not up to snuff on their 20th century U.S. history, the early ’50s Hollywood was undergoing some treacherous political climate as ol’ Joe McCarthy, whom DeMille was a know supporter, was on a witch hunt for all things Communism. In opposition was soon-to-be blacklisted High Noon writer/producer Carl Foreman. An air of suspicion was unavoidable, and certainly not unjustified. Politics aside, High Noon has since been revered as an envelope push for its day and, even now, a reigning contemporary styled, method-drama character study; The Greatest Show on Earth, on the other hand, long ago dismissed as a blemish against the more “artful” cinema to which it championed – further garnering resentment as a silly soap, overwrought on pomp and circumstance while devoid of any real substance or deeper meanings. It is arguably considered the worst Best Picture winner of all time.
I’m not here to make excuses for its Oscar win; again, the reasons for which may have very well been political, even if it was nothing more than an honorary salute to DeMille’s yet-to-be Academy awarded legacy. But I personally love this movie here and now, as the movie it was always intended to be. The Greatest Show on Earth is perhaps the epitome of DeMille as filmmaker, in that he was as much an all-out entertainer who dealt grandstands of spectacle and sensationalism. What better to marry his filmic ambitions than the world of Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus? The two were destined for one another.
DeMille was given the perfect excuse to, quite literally, parade endlessly remarkable feats of Man, beast and themed pageantry for all the commoner to see--all of which held together by the thinnest of plot and character. At times it almost seems as if you’re watching a documentary about the circus, or, even more so, some lavish promotional reel. Extended scenes follow one after another of varying acts and animals and ornate costumes – large portions of the film are little more than the circus on its own, either during its show or when viewing its mass logistics and assembly, where, employed, were some 1400 real life performers, trainers, technicians and laborers. It’s a sight to behold. But DeMille doesn’t stop there. Intermittent with the archive-like footage is a story that veers the whole enterprise into full-blown hyperbole.
DeMille was given the perfect excuse to, quite literally, parade endlessly remarkable feats of Man, beast and themed pageantry for all the commoner to see--all of which held together by the thinnest of plot and character. At times it almost seems as if you’re watching a documentary about the circus, or, even more so, some lavish promotional reel. Extended scenes follow one after another of varying acts and animals and ornate costumes – large portions of the film are little more than the circus on its own, either during its show or when viewing its mass logistics and assembly, where, employed, were some 1400 real life performers, trainers, technicians and laborers. It’s a sight to behold. But DeMille doesn’t stop there. Intermittent with the archive-like footage is a story that veers the whole enterprise into full-blown hyperbole.
Charlton Heston (in only his fourth film and debut as a leading man) plays hard-ass Brad Braden, the circus manager who’s dead set against the administrators’ plan to cut short the show to a mere 10 weeks, pledging instead to run the full season and turn a worthy profit. To draw audiences he hires The Great Sebastian (a jovial Cornel Wilde), an Italian trapeze flyer and infamous womanizer who quickly gets caught up in competition for center ring with fellow flyer Holly, played with exuberance by Betty Hutton. The three of them form a love triangle where ensues much swooning and wallowing. Rounding out the main is Jimmy Stewart as Buttons the Clown, who is never seen without his makeup and carries with him a mysterious past.
From here on DeMille stacks high a series of outlandish events: there’s a two-bit crime racket feeding off the circus side attractions; a trapeze stunt without safety net gone terribly wrong, which later leads to Sebastian’s claw hand (that’s right, a claw hand! – a moment when revealed is the peak of melodrama absurdity); a mad German elephant trainer who, in a fit of jealousy, threatens to crush his girlfriend’s head under an elephant’s foot, before the spectators no less; Button’s identity as a doctor on the lam for mercifully euthanizing his terminally ill wife (just your typical ‘tragic clown’ scenario). And then there’s a train-on-train collision… I’m not kidding. It’s as if DeMille, after reviewing the narrative, said aloud: “Not enough. Fuck it, let’s have a train crash!” and set out to do just that, complete with miniatures, rolling sets and lions run amok. At this point I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if Heston had spread out his arms and split the Red Sea.
From here on DeMille stacks high a series of outlandish events: there’s a two-bit crime racket feeding off the circus side attractions; a trapeze stunt without safety net gone terribly wrong, which later leads to Sebastian’s claw hand (that’s right, a claw hand! – a moment when revealed is the peak of melodrama absurdity); a mad German elephant trainer who, in a fit of jealousy, threatens to crush his girlfriend’s head under an elephant’s foot, before the spectators no less; Button’s identity as a doctor on the lam for mercifully euthanizing his terminally ill wife (just your typical ‘tragic clown’ scenario). And then there’s a train-on-train collision… I’m not kidding. It’s as if DeMille, after reviewing the narrative, said aloud: “Not enough. Fuck it, let’s have a train crash!” and set out to do just that, complete with miniatures, rolling sets and lions run amok. At this point I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if Heston had spread out his arms and split the Red Sea.
I suppose all this ridiculousness can be taken as a negative, but I can’t help but admire the way The Greatest Show on Earth, despite the perfectly sensible premise, ends up trumpeting its own fantastical reality instead of placating to our own. And I certainly have no problem enjoying the hell out of it. The acting and dialogue is awash with cornball hokum and purple prose. Naturally, Heston (one of my all time favorite actors, by the way) grits the material with all his classic jawed posturing and sonorous vocal effect. He makes it seem effortless. Hutton and Wilde fair less as they bounce from scene to scene, line to line, stupidly, albeit assuredly. This would only be an issue if their characters were more fully developed; as it stands, they manage well enough with heightened rudiment expressions.
It's Gloria Grahame as gal-pal Angel who brings some much needed sass as she darts for affection between Braden and Sebastian, and the only (hint of) nuance in the film belongs to Stewart who achieves genuine warmth and empathy behind his fixed clown smile. The visual splendor of The Greatest Show on Earth cannot be denied. Richly adorned in Technicolor and square framed in DeMille’s signature tableau style, the imagery is a cross between Rockwell and some rustic circus poster art come to life. DeMille was never know for nifty camera work but his slow, drawl panning shots nicely appropriate the casual pacing of the circus serpent, letting our eyes rest on the extensive production value.
It's Gloria Grahame as gal-pal Angel who brings some much needed sass as she darts for affection between Braden and Sebastian, and the only (hint of) nuance in the film belongs to Stewart who achieves genuine warmth and empathy behind his fixed clown smile. The visual splendor of The Greatest Show on Earth cannot be denied. Richly adorned in Technicolor and square framed in DeMille’s signature tableau style, the imagery is a cross between Rockwell and some rustic circus poster art come to life. DeMille was never know for nifty camera work but his slow, drawl panning shots nicely appropriate the casual pacing of the circus serpent, letting our eyes rest on the extensive production value.
Lastly, I wish to rebuke, to a degree, the criticisms that this film has no insight to offer. Admittedly, it does not make for an overly profound viewing experience, but watch closely for the slightest touch of commentary in the reaction shots of the spectators, particularly the cropped and pigtailed boys and girls, eyes gaped and lips smacked white from their ice cream cones; and note the contrast between a giddy laughing father and his little boy seated next to him with a near blank expression: perhaps an irreverent jab at our stunted maturity and yearning for nostalgia?
Later, a detective shows Braden a photograph of Buttons sans the clown makeup – instead of a realistic picture of the character, a close-up reveals what is clearly and deliberately a professional headshot of Stewart, gazing at the audience, granting us our first and only glimpse of the star in idyllic form and conscious of our desire for said persona over the storied content. Is DeMille using Stewart himself as a thematic device? A reflexive totem? A moment of meta-cinema? Don't be so quick to think The Greatest Show on Earth an absolute dumbed-down romp. DeMille was more than capable of a sly wink here, a subtle nod there, beneath the cotton candy surface. All the same, he promises showmanship and delivers.
Later, a detective shows Braden a photograph of Buttons sans the clown makeup – instead of a realistic picture of the character, a close-up reveals what is clearly and deliberately a professional headshot of Stewart, gazing at the audience, granting us our first and only glimpse of the star in idyllic form and conscious of our desire for said persona over the storied content. Is DeMille using Stewart himself as a thematic device? A reflexive totem? A moment of meta-cinema? Don't be so quick to think The Greatest Show on Earth an absolute dumbed-down romp. DeMille was more than capable of a sly wink here, a subtle nod there, beneath the cotton candy surface. All the same, he promises showmanship and delivers.
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