“I filmed the elephant man, the dwarf, a giant, a pair of lobster people, the half woman, a clown and a jumble of jug band musicians. On tour in a 20-year old school bus, travelling 2500 miles across America, the ‘freaks’ worked their way through the wild west. Laughing, crying and drinking – a carnival of the damned – searching for a home…” wrote Richard Butchins, the disabled director himself.

The Last American Freak Show attempts a resurrection of the freak show in order to re-appropriate and reclaim the word ‘freak’ as a positive rather than pejorative term.

The documentary can be seen as a road-movie, during which we get to know each one of the so-called (by themselves) freaks: their past and present, their needs, wishes, desires and aspirations. What brings them together is their difference, their deviation from the norm of the able body. By performing this difference they attempt to produce a certain kind of awareness around their own normality.

The documentary thus aims at making the spectator question his/her perceptions of disability and normality, as well as at re-opening the discussion about the ethics of a freakish spectacle. Going against the tradition which wants freaks to be the object of exploitation and manipulation for the sake of profit, the performances in The last American Freak Show become the motor of empowerment, transforming the freaks from objects to subjects, from means to goals by and for themselves, thus attributing to them agency, a voice of speech on their own.

By bringing deformity to the forefront, on the stage itself, the documentary obliges the spectator to see what is usually invisible to everyday perception thus at times creating a feeling of discomfort. It also forces the viewer to hear the freaks’ testimonies, which go against our ‘morality’ and what is considered as politically correct: that flaunting a deformed body might be as legitimate and correct as flaunting a beautiful body; even more it might be pleasurable and enjoyable for both the performer and the audience.

The Last American Freak Show is not about representation or depiction of the freaks or of disability but about mobilising the power of magic and imagination. Its dynamic composition (consisting of animation, black-and-white night shots, as well as colour images), and the intimate ‘look’ of the camera produce a different image – an extra-ordinary perception that can claim confidently: freaks are amazing!

The Last American Freak Show is an evocative, compelling, often funny and personal documentary that invites the viewer to look beyond the bodies of people living in them; it is with this shift in perception that a whole new world appears, a world we never knew it existed before.

Dr Chrysanthi Nigianni
Visiting Lecturer in Sociology, University of East London

To read our interview with director Richard Butchins, click here.

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In her short film Close Your Eyes and Look At Me, Lindsey Dryden explores the issue of personal freedom, body and ways of seeing. She talks to Kamila Kuc about her fascination with radical women and respect she has for Shabana, the subject of her film.

Kamila Kuc: Close Your Eyes and Look at Me portrays Shabana, a young Muslim woman from Edinburgh, who talks about the meaning of wearing a hijab. Using a hijab as a starting point, the film explores the issue of racism and intolerance in the UK. I like the way the first few minutes of the film are shot: we do not see Shabana’s face but we hear her voice…

Lindsey Dryden: That was deliberate. I first filmed an interview with Shabana, and then spent a good few weeks thinking about how to give the film a visual structure, and avoid the dreaded ‘talking heads’ approach, before going back to shoot the little journey around Edinburgh (thanks to camera operator Glenda Rome for her calm head in the face of camera breakdown!). After some good advice from an editor friend, I kept coming back to the idea of challenging the viewer to think about how they look, and are looked at.

I’m aware that a little meander around grey Edinburgh streets could be thought of as a pretty dull visual approach, but I wanted to ask the viewer to contemplate what it feels like not to see someone you’re being asked to engage with, and what it is we assume about them based on first (visual) impressions. People I heard from at the last screening of the film (True/False Film Festival) said they were desperate to know what Shabana looked like by the end, and in that way had to think about their appetite to understand someone’s appearance as well as their thoughts and actions.

Also, it was brave of Shabana to take part in the filming as – like many of the most interesting people – she wasn’t that keen to be the centre of attention. So I wanted to find a way to film her that honoured that, and didn’t feel too pressured for her.

KK: The title is crucial to the film as Shabana asks an important question: ‘Why what people wear, has such a significant impact on our opinion of them?’ Do you find yourself guilty of that sometimes?

LD: Yes, of course. My obsession with being non-judgmental is an ideal, not a reality! It would be wonderful to be magically non-judgmental all the time, but I think that – for better or worse – we all need signifiers about a person to tell us who they are and what they might mean to us.

I think the problem, though, is that commercial imperatives have really got in the way, and now our bodies and appearance have apparently become our most important attribute, and the primary way we’re taught to judge and exert power over people (mainly because if we feel insecure we’ll often do our best to make others feel bad, in order to make ourselves feel better, and if we all feel insecure then we’ll all buy more crap to fix it). I’m writing a book about body image, and exploring the importance of attractiveness and bodily health on everyday human interactions, and how we judge each other – hopefully I’ll find some answers that bring that non-judgmental ideal a little closer!

KK: Is the film your way of exploring the issue through Shabana’s eyes or is it a question that Shabana wanted to explore and you filmed it?

LD: I was researching the theme of radical women – women who are doing extraordinary things in the wake of some daft Daily Mail idea that feminism is dead – and became intrigued by the notion that some Muslim women find covering hugely liberating because, at a time when looks seem to be everything, it frees them to be looked at as a person, not just as a woman who is a sum of her parts. There are at least 10 films that could be made with Shabana as she’s an informed and passionate woman with so many ideas! But I approached her about exploring this particular topic, and we did it that way round.

I did film with another brilliant Muslim woman in Edinburgh, initially on the same topic; but we ended up moving into all kinds of different and interesting territory, so I’m still pondering which story to focus on, and looking forward to what comes of that.

KK: Shabana says that hijab allows her for a certain kind of freedom where she does not have to think about having to wear make-up before she leaves home. But then one does not need to wear a hijab for that…There is a serious conflict in perceiving the whole issue as many Western women see hijab as an oppression rather than liberation…

LD: Shabana’s hijab is an incredibly important part of her religious observance, so of course it’s not just about not having to wear make-up. There are many reasons she’s committed to covering, and I think being perceived as free from the dull and restrictive physical rituals of our culture (girls have long flowing hair, girls wear make-up, girls look pretty all the time, blah blah) is one of the many benefits for her.

And no, you don’t need to wear a hijab for that – but I think for most people it’s very hard to step out of their culture’s physical rituals, whether wearing make-up, or having those long, flowing locks, or shaving legs (good old fashioned feminist fare!) because pressures to conform are incredibly strong… which goes back to the idea of why we judge people based on looks. So, while this kind of freedom is not the main or only reason Shabana wears hijab, it’s a pretty good bonus, I imagine!

As for conflict in perceiving this issue – absolutely, there’s conflict. All of these things are based on belief systems, and intensely personal choices, many of which have been so normalised that they seem to be instinctive. Is a woman who covers her hair oppressed because her religion is forcing her to conceal her ‘femininity’? Or is a woman who beautifies her hair oppressed because her culture is forcing her to believe that her main value is in the way that she looks, and that her so-called ‘femininity’ is a real and natural part of her?

Shabana is quick to distinguish between those who choose, proudly and fully informed, to wear hijab, and those who are forced to wear it by their community, or family, or government. For her, covering was absolutely a choice, based on careful reflection and life experience, and I find her passion and fierce belief humbling and inspiring. As she said at the time of filming, most women who wear hijab would like everyone else to understand that they’re just normal people!

KK: Hijab, of course, is an expression of Shabana’s belief, which unlike any other religion, seems to cause controversy around the world…

Yes, Shabana’s hijab is a very significant part of her faith, not something she takes lightly, and not something that’s interchangeable with a bit of eye-liner. But by comparing hijab to how other women wear make-up, I think she’s highlighting that women across cultures, races and religions have something in common: we subscribe to observances and rituals around our bodies that are key to how we are perceived in the world – and we can’t leave the house without them!

The ‘just a piece of cloth’ phrase came up because we were talking about exactly that controversy, and that panic that many people (dopey politicians like Jack Straw included) feel at the mere sight of a headscarf. While we were filming she said, “Why’s it such a big deal if we use cloth to cover our head, or cover our hair or our neck? We’re still that same person inside. If you actually sat down and spoke to someone, if you just closed your eyes that hijab would vanish, it wouldn’t even be a reason to use against somebody, it wouldn’t even factor in to your opinion of that person.” I think she’s making an important point – perhaps my expression of it is a bit trite, but why not look beyond what you see on the surface?

And yes, Islam seems to cause a fair bit of uproar in the West at the moment; but of course pretty much all the other major religions (or perhaps just small and noisy groups claiming to represent them) have done so at various points in history.

KK: Do you think your film could change people’s perceptions about wearing a hijab?

LD: I think a little film like this can only be the beginning of a discussion – and that’s what storytelling is for, no? To raise questions, tell us a little something about other human beings, and in turn show us a little something about ourselves so that we keep questioning, questioning, questioning. I was honoured to hear and record Shabana’s opinions, and in squashing only a part of her many stories down to 6 little minutes, I’d hope that anyone who watches the film takes it as a small – and far from complete – window on the world of someone whose passion and belief is inspiring.

On the way to my shoot with Shabana, I met a taxi driver in rural North Wales who had some disturbing opinions about Islam, although not out of malice – she simply had no experience outside of her own very un-diverse community and, alas, probably read the Daily Mail a little too often. It would be nice if she saw the film and recognised that people she thinks of as foreign are more like her than she realised, but then perhaps I’m into trite territory again… So I think having respect for the person who’s been brave enough to air their opinions, and using them as the starting point for an interesting – perhaps even opinion-shifting – discussion would be a very good start.

To read a review of the film, click here.

Every day, especially living in any city in the UK, we see women wearing the hijab, the headscarf that is often part of a Muslim way of life. In her short and succinct film, Close Your Eyes and Look At Me, Lindsey Dryden provides an insight into the reasons behind one woman’s choice to wear it.

One could be forgiven for making some assumptions about the hijab – women are ‘forced’ to wear it, the onus is on them to cover themselves from the prying eyes of men who can’t be expected to control themselves. But in fact Close your eyes presents us with another way of looking at it. The young woman shown in the film, 25-year-old Shabana from Edinburgh, tells us that, for her, the hijab equals more freedom in her everyday life. She doesn’t worry about hair or makeup, about conforming to an artificial ‘ideal’ about the way one should look.

Would people communicate more efficiently if they weren’t influenced by the judgments made about others’ appearances, their clothes, hair, other external features? Is choosing to wear the hijab a way of freeing oneself from the restrictions of others’ judgments? Dryden gives us answers to these questions and more in around six minutes by putting the audience behind the camera and letting us see the world through Shabana’s eyes.

Shabana admits that although she no longer suffers judgment on the basis of her appearance as a stereotypically ‘attractive’ woman, she now experiences abuse from people judging her for wearing it. But for her, this is perhaps more acceptable (or she is less equipped to combat it) than attention received because of her femininity. She is not denying her identity as a woman; she is simply showing reverence to it by concealing what is considered in Islam to be a woman’s most beautiful feature, her hair.

Dryden presents us with an honest and simple account of one woman’s choice to cover her head and it is refreshing to hear the story narrated by this young woman herself. Making the film more of a personal story, the director achieved a greater sense of authenticity and as she gives her explanation, she lets us into her world momentarily. By the end of this tiny gem of a film, we find ourselves just that little bit better informed and enlightened.

Katharina Chase
London-based Australian writer, linguist and social historian

To read our interview with director Lindsey Dryden, click here.

Join the conversation and let us know what you think about the film

Richard Butchins’s controversial film The Last American Freak Show raises difficult questions about disability and has scared some people off – Bafta recently withdrew from screening it, for reasons that remain unclear. Kamila Kuc talks to the director about a life-changing experience.

Kamila Kuc: The Last American Freak Show takes you on a trip with The 999 Eyes of Endless Dream – a troupe of performers, which contains self-defined ‘freaks’ and ‘non-freaks’, as you list them in your final credits. Why did you want to make this film?

Richard Butchins: It’s hard to recall my original objectives. I went into the project without any real objective other than to document what I saw, I certainly thought that the idea of a freak show seemed anachronistic, but on the other hand I liked the idea of disabled people charging the able bodied to stare at them

KK: In the film the troupe are travelling on an old school bus. When they lose the bus the group becomes a little estranged and the tone of the film changes slightly. There is a lot more tension among the group members. Where did this leave you as a filmmaker? Was this a difficult film to make?

RB: From a filmmaking point of view the fact that I was working alone became frustrating as it was a very demanding environment both physically and emotionally and some support would have been helpful, but then again it would have been a different film if I had had a budget and a crew – possibly not as good… I did find myself getting involved emotionally with the characters in one way or another.

KK: The film portrays plenty of laughter, tears and alcohol – like in a real Bakhtinian carnival. How did you handle this 24/7?

RB: (Laughs) It was a tough call. I basically tried to keep a little professional distance. There was only one occasion when I let myself get drunk with them and the hangover was immense. That was a real Bakhtinian carnival…

KK: One of the characters in the film, Deirdre, the dwarf, says that people in freak shows are exploited in the same way as models on a catwalk. Would you say that such parallel is valid? Surely watching models on a catwalk or conventionally ‘beautiful’ people, the spectator wishes to be like them while watching freaks, people are happy not to be them….

RB: Exploit, means to use something for its strengths, so in that sense I agree with Deirdre. Unfortunately, beauty and youth are coveted and rewarded in our society whilst (for many reasons too long and complex to go into here) difference and disability are shunned – so I agree with you on that.

KK: There is another film at this year’s Festival, The Skin Horse, [part of the John Samson Retrospective at The Horse Hospital] in which people with disabilities talk about their sexual needs.  It points out that pity is not what disabled people want. What do you think the ‘freaks’ want to get out of being part of a performance?

RB: They get attention, and for once it’s sympathetic and positive attention, they get a chance to be important and to state their case. They get paid (a little) and they gain a status denied to them in everyday life.

KK: Was there anything you decided was too much, and that you needed to edit out?

RB: No not really it’s just that it had to be a manageable length – I mean, I filmed for over 10 weeks, the first rough cut was 6 hours long. I cut out the repetition. How many times do you need to see them stealing grease? All the main events are there.

KK: Nowadays freak shows are seen as exploitative yet for many years they were one of the major forms of entertainment. What are your personal views on the issue of the ‘pornography of disability’, as the author Robert Bogdan calls it in his book The Freak Show?

RB: I am not even sure what the pornography of disability is. It sounds like a redundant activist slogan from the 70’s – remember that for hundreds of years disabled people had no way to make a living in society, they were shut out. One could argue that this is still the case (and I would, the door is just more subtle now). Freak shows were a legitimate way of making a buck. No welfare system etc.

Bogdan says “How we view people who are different has less to do with what they are physiologically than with who we are culturally. ‘Freak’ is a way of thinking, of presenting, a set of practices, an institution – not a characteristic of an individual.” I like the social model of disability but it’s not entirely true. Disability is a physical constraint that is aggravated by social constructs. Activism has been really important in changing these constructs but it can lead to a kind of “Liberal Totalitarianism.”

KK: Why do you think people want to watch freak shows these days?

RB: The same reason as they always did, straightforward curiosity and to feel glad that
they are not freaks. Most people still watch them in the form of those appalling shock docs on TV – the world’s tallest teenagers or the world’s hairiest women.

Don’t think that the freak show has gone away it’s just the format that’s changed – that, and the fact that the freaks don’t get paid anymore. They still get exploited by the able bodied and they still can’t control the way they are presented – but it’s slipped by because its on TV, so you don’t go and pay $1 to see it, and it feels ok that way.

KK: Do you think your life has changed since making the film?

RB: Yes, making this film was a life changing event for me. It has led to me feeling much more connected to my own disability, less self conscious and in a contradictory way both more and less tolerant of people and their beliefs and prejudices.

KK: And on your weblog you say you’ve joined a circus. Is this true?

RB: Yes it’s true!  I’m now part of a circus troupe that features disabled performers.

To read our review of the film, click here.