Charles Finney’s 1935 THE CIRCUS OF DR. LAO is one weird book. And I love the cover of my edition (wish I knew the artist)
Abalone, Arizona is a small, dull, dusty desert town. First the newspaper has a big ad announcing the coming of the circus, then it shows up. In small towns back then, that’s always exciting, but townies who gather to watch are underwhelmed — three wagons, that’s all? One of them with a horse that has a fake horn on its head, one of the wagon-drivers has horns on his head and plays a syrinx, there’s a dog painted green, a little old Chinese man and a furry Something/Someone in one of the cages — is it a bear? Or maybe a Russian? Lao himself can shift from pidgin English to standard English at will.
Despite the small procession into town, there’s a full circus with sideshow exhibits and a big tent when Lao opens his show that night (memory suggests a circus setting up magically this way is a common trope but I can’t swear to it). We have a sea serpent engaging in intellectual conversation about its life history. Medusa, carefully shielded so she’s only visible in a mirror (as you might guess, someone’s going to look closer …). The satyr sexually liberates a prim young woman. Two drunk college students cause trouble. Apollonius the seer gives a middle-aged woman a bleak prophecy: she won’t find love, nothing will change, nothing will improve, she’ll simply fade away, losing hope, and then she’ll die (it’s a strikingly sad moment). A sorcerer resurrects a dead man, who runs off immediately — he has important business! Almost all of which the locals treat with complete phlegmatism, no more excited than if they’d seen a tattooed man or the like. Faced with wonders they don’t find it that wondrous. Apollonius’ prophecy feels like it could apply to the entire town.
It’s an odd but fascinating story. No real plot, just a series of incidents. No real explanation of anything. The book concludes with a Cast of Characters list including details about people who were little more than walk-ons, or were mentioned but never appeared, plus a list of unanswered questions — was it a Russian or a bear? What business did the dead man have? The end result is not everyone’s cup of tea; I have no memory what I made of it when I read it in college, other than “that’s weird.” In its own way it’s brilliant. That said, we have a couple of racial epithets dropped into casual conversation and the satyr committing sexual assault; if those are unacceptable, well now you know.
I think such a plotless novel is unfilmable so it’s no surprise when they did film it, Charles Beaumont’s script for THE 7 FACES OF DR. LAO (1964) gives it a plot to hold everything together (the great George Pal directed it). A skilled fantasy writer and Twilght Zone scriptwriter, Beaumont gives it a Twilight Zone quality — Lao (Tony Randall in yellowface) shows up and transforms everyone’s lives for the better the same way Professor Fate saves Denton in the episode Mr. Denton on Doomsday. Though it also resembles the 1962 film musical The Music Man: like Harold Hill, Dr. Lao is a traveling trickster who revives the lives of everyone in town, including inspiring a prim librarian to find love (this does make Lao the equivalent of a “magical Negro”).
This version of Abalone is a dying town and everyone knows it. Cynical Stark (Arthur O’Connell) has offered to buy everyone out so they can leave and start over; newspaper publisher Ed Cunningham (John Ericson) is pushing his neighbors to say no. He’s also pushing widowed librarian Angela Benedict (Barbara Eden) to say yes to a date, without any luck.
Enter Lao and his circus. His satyr (Randall — the “seven faces” means he plays seven roles) loosens Angela up (not quite as rapey as the book scene), the serpent mocks Stark, Apollonius (Randall again) makes his bleak prophecy. Stark’s thugs harass everyone opposing him; somehow Lao neutralizes them.
The end result, alas, lacks the sophistication of a good Twilight Zone episode; it feels more like kidvid (Lao does spend a lot of time with Angela’s young son, who’s fascinated by him). The performances are competent but not stellar. Randall playing seven roles doesn’t add much, though “actor plays multiple roles” has its own appeal. It has some charm, but I think there’s a better unfaithful adaptation they could have made. “Every time I bet on weakness, corruption, and fallibility, I want to lose — but I always win.”
All rights to images remain with current holders.
