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"In the words of philosopher Mencius: You ain't seen nothin' yet!" Mythological figures in old Arizona, all of them essayed by Tony Randall like a homegrown Alec Guinness, George Pal's ultimate statement on art and showmanship. The wizened Chinese saltimbanque speaks in the fractured English he's expected to, then drops it for Western lingo when besting a pair of racist gunslingers. "I, sir, am a major mystery." The burg is in the grip of an avaricious businessman (Arthur O'Connell) who secretly mourns his own lost idealism, "a base, pathetic, vulgar animal" is how he views his fellow man. His nemesis is the earnest newspaper editor (John Ericson), whose office is destroyed à la The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance and revived by the visitor with the magical circus. "Come on, doc. What kind of Oriental hocus-pocus is going on around here?" A mirror held up to the townspeople, each attraction a marvel of William Tuttle makeup and Randall pantomime. Apollonius the doleful oracle annihilates the vain busybody (Lee Patrick) with a prophecy of the void to come, Pan "the incarnation of carnality" pursues the prim librarian (Barbara Eden) to the edge of ecstasy. Doddering Merlin finds no favor with the audience, "gadzooks, madame, these are not tricks," bored Medusa snaps to hissing life when petrifying a local battleax (Minerva Urecal). The Serpent is a sardonic pundit, the Abominable Snowman a growling roustabout, the cherished pet swells from guppy to Nessie once its fishbowl is shattered. It all comes down to a vision of oblivion, and a tip for the tyke (Kevin Tate). "That's showbiz." Godard has this in Histoire(s) du Cinéma, the Ramuz fable about the traveling salesman who was film itself. With Noah Beery Jr., Royal Dano, John Doucette, John Qualen, Frank Cady, Eddie Little Sky, Argentina Brunetti, Peggy Rea, and Douglas Fowley.
--- Fernando F. Croce |