Thursday, November 06, 2014

Be Afraid of This Clown

Title 2: Why This White Faced Motherfucker 

Dearly Beloved, this is Art the Clown. The Clown.

Now let me tell you the truth, my Dearly Beloved Sweet Nuts. I just watched what could be the scariest shit in my adult life. There I was, all thirty four years of me, stealing a quick look behind my back as the credits rolled to signal the applause this film deserves. Oh wait, a cut scene. What the fuck, there is more to it? Why am I... Oh wait gran hijo de puta! Shit, you are not fucking with me again you goddamn white-faced clown. Mother. Fucker. That stupid bitch should have blinded the clown when she had the chance. I thought to myself that is exactly what I will do now as my eyes scanned my living room for something pointed.The credits resume, and I snapped out of it. 

And then I decided that this movie is, indeed, Boss-level scary.

All Hallows' Eve is what happens when Sadako's curse meets John Wayne Gacy's serial killing. Pennywise (from Stephen King's It) lends his maddest make up skills and fails. Miserably. Cap'n Spaulding (of Devil's Reject's infamy) decides to lend a hand in murderous intent and fucks it up real bad.Why, even that vigilante clown Buster (from that Masters of Horror episode "We All Scream for Ice Cream') and his ice cream voodoo squeals in defeat at Art's devilish tricks. Billy the Puppet (of the Saw series) is a goddamn dummy. I'm telling you, Dearly Beloved, those amateurs have got nothing on Art. 

Troublesome, motherfucking scary Art. 

This is John Wayne Gacy, a real life serial killer. He used to be The Bomb.

And this is Pennywise. Yes, he's in a sewer. What's he doing in a sewer? 

This is Cap'n Spaulding. He should be teaching his wonderful Foulmouthing in a university somewhere. 

And we have Buster. No scares, all ice cream. And some voodoo.

Throw in pools of black mascara and blacker lip stick on a mouth of decaying yellow teeth, and you have Art the White Faced Clown. Or Mime. He should be Art the Mime, the magical homicidal mime who will draw you in with that disgusting smile and keeps you in place with a loaded syringe. He smiles a lot, and he smiles with his eyes, too, that he makes you remember if you've ever been afraid of clowns before.  

Those clowns have nothing, not even remotely anything, on Art the Clown. By the way, this is one of the more unnerving scenes in All Hallows' Eve.

Have you ever been afraid of clowns before, my Dearly Beloved Sweet Nuts?

You wished the things he did with his hands stopped at mimery, but he is as masterful with that amputation bone saw as he is with the usual flower stick. He had no dialogue so he spoke no evil (duh, why did I even write that), but his range of wicked genius (how very cheesy, Momel) was, for lack of a better word, The Shit. 

He holds firmly to his killing purpose with unnerving tenacity. And he flashes those rotting yellow teeth while he's decapitating a dude because he's a lunatic. Have you ever been afraid of clowns, my Dearly Beloved Sweet Nuts? Try All Hallows' Eve. 

Did you know, Sweet Nuts, that there is a real term, and a website too, for your fear of clowns? Coulrophobia (kool-roh-phow-byah i-laav-beeg-deeks haha made you say it) stems from seeing "an unfamiliar face on a familiar body." This rational could work with kids, or equally impressionable adults, but it is rather lacking. The familiar body, of course, is the human torso with its extremities. What you get from the neck up, that unique clown weirdness, is the "unfamiliar face." And there you go. 

Now, the psychology behind this fear, the evaluation, is rather unconvincing if you ask me. I have seen masses of unfamiliar faces on unfamiliar bodies, but I am not afraid of drag superstar Nina Flowers. I am not afraid of that charming Prince Poppycock. I am not afraid of The Elephant Man, bless his soul. I am not afraid of Bebe Gandanghari or Jim Girl or that sickening population of third world rejects we see on TV. 

What's so terrible about the spectacular Prince Poppycock?

There is something infinitely more gripping with clowns that supplies some reservation at the back of our heads. I, for one, am doing triple somersaults because there is an actual word for "abnormal fear of clowns," but I am not that sold on the premise of an "unfamiliar face on a familiar body." Seriously, my Dearly Beloved, why are clowns scary? Is it because of the excessive make up that's made to look like a permanent grin?  A smile that does not move on a breathing person is unnerving enough. But then you magnify that by a hundred with tons of white face and lurid red lipstick that has metastasized. Seeing this badly executed smile on a grown up man with a dress gives it another dimension. Is that it? Is it because this "unfamiliar face" is trying so hard, in his weirdly spastic way, to make us laugh? Is it because this permanent grin doesn't speak and communicates with exaggerated gestures? Is it because, as kids, we grew up to the image of Death with a white skull, and the white 
face comes terrifyingly close? 

What makes clowns scarier? Bloodstains, that's what. 

And then we want to know why are some clowns endearing? Why do I find The Joker infinitely more interesting than some caped guy with a utility belt? Why is The Joker's girlfriend, Harley Quinn, just as exciting? 

I am not afraid of clowns, but I admit they somewhat worried me when I was a kid. Art the Clown modified my resolve. I am leery of Art the Clown not because he is "an unfamiliar face on a familiar body," but because he is the Perfect Scary Clown. Why, then, is he the perfect scary clown? Oh fuck it. You be prompt with your copy of "All Hallows' Eve." Make haste and scare yourself in earnest. You find this out for yourself. And besides, this mouthful on clowns is making me goddamn tired. 

Watch it.


  1. Clowns make me sad. Even the scary ones. They're creepy and all but they just make me feel so sad. Ewan.

    1. So it's Clowns and Love. Got it, Neil.



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