THE MOST SHOCKING thing about Freaks — the film so supposedly disturbing its own studio tried to shut it down; the film that caused an audience-member at a preview screening to have a miscarriage; the film that with its own marketing campaign boasted of “pure sensationalism” — is that it really isn’t sensationalist at all. From the start it makes the extraordinary ordinary, contextualising the so-called abnormal as normal. As people. Its true subversion lies in the way it challenges our own prejudices, flipping horror on its head, taking society to task. Freaks was — and to some extent still is — ahead of its time. It’s hard to think of another film that has been so staggeringly, wilfully misunderstood.
Even its status as a horror is something of a red herring. Tod Browning had certainly served his time with ghouls, and only the year before had directed Bela Lugosi in 1931’s Dracula. But Freaks’ true monsters are the non-disabled bullies fleecing and exploiting the circus sideshow’s more interesting inhabitants, the film only leaning into terror during its final few minutes. Up until then it’s an often convivial peek behind the curtain, introducing us to a fascinating found family of performers.