jeśli twoje dziecko najbardziej na świecie kocha filmy, a ty najbardziej na świecie kochasz swoje dziecko, to kup mu cinema speculation - w świątyni, rozdział 17:

Carny shows the seedy side of this bottom feeding rung of entertainment (Tobe Hooper’s film The Funhouse and Dean Koontz’s wildly rewritten novelization covers some of the same ground as Baum’s script and book). The film wants to do for carny’s what Ron Sheldon’s Bull Durham did for minor league baseball. Take you on a tour of a world you never knew, and when you exit, you exit an expert. And in this endeavor the film and the novelization isn’t a total failure. Nevertheless, the missed and fumbled opportunities add up to an ultimately unsatisfying experience. (..) To call Robert Kaylor’s direction of the film lousy, is to de facto insult all other directors, because it implies, he directed anything at all. To direct badly, you first have to direct. When you shoot a glittering-blinking carnival at night you can’t help but come back with visually stimulating footage. But Kaylor constantly avoids the midway, placing dramatic scene after scene inside drab tents and trailers (to watch Kaylor’s non-existent visual scheme is to appreciate anew Tobe Hooper’s filmmaking in regards to his mediocre The Funhouse). The film contains so many isolated head and shoulder close ups of actors framed against blank walls you’d think Oscar Micheaux was a visual consultant. If the film has an authorial voice, it isn’t due to its direction, cinematography, or script (you can tell Baum’s book is a response to the films bastardization of his screenplay). The reason Carny deserves a look isn’t due to anybody behind the camera, but due to the unique combination of manic energy and beyond the beyond naturism that Gary Busey displays in front of it.