In Defense of The Greatest Showman: Forgiving the Glitter for the Gold

 

In yesterday’s blog post (https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blog/post/edit/1027346460735612910/8538390204805161713), I traced the changes in the flawed lead male character in TV and film over the past few decades, arriving at the present, where many of these characters are, sadly, “irredeemably broken.” 

Hoping for something better from The Greatest Showman, I had been planning to see it for awhile. Having a background in musical theatre and being a fan of the similarly styled Moulin Rouge, I had purchased some of the songs from the film months before. I am also a fan of Hugh Jackman. He is one of the rare Hollywood leading men who can act and sing, do drama and comedy, and and do it all very well. 

A few nights before my first watch of The Greatest Showman, I had watched the NBC “live concert” of Jesus Christ Superstar, which was diminished by John Legend’s lack of acting chops—a must for anyone playing Jesus in this show. And who can forget Gerard Butler’s lack of ability to sing in Phantom of the Opera and Johnny Depp’s to sing and act at the same time in Sweeney Todd?

The Greatest Showman did not disappoint me. As a matter of fact, I found myself in tears at many points in the film and otherwise moved at others. I purchased a few more songs after watching it, knowing that this was a film I would watch many, many times. 

Turns out, I was right. In the past 7 years, whenever I need some inspiration, I watch it. I have also listened to the soundtrack (and covers of some of the songs) hundreds of times.  

I knew when the trailer first landed that there was going to be pushback. P. T. Barnum is not your typical Hollywood-musical hero. His first “attraction” was an African American woman he “leased” for a year and toured with the story that she was a slave of George Washington’s. Upon her death, he staged a paid spectacle: her public autopsy. Many of his other practices in the promotion of “freaks of nature” were equally morally bankrupt, although he defended them in two books and to anyone who would listen throughout his career.

Director Michael Gracey, who recently directed Better Man, a musical biopic about Robbie Williams that struggled at the box office, is obviously not shy about tackling projects with controversial leading men. 

Then again, The Greatest Showman really is not a biopic, if such a thing exists. The leasing of the slave and her autopsy, most glaringly, are absent. So let’s call this Historical Fiction, which takes considerable liberties for a variety of reasons. (I have written extensively on this subject. An example is: https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blog/post/edit/1027346460735612910/5640160346824547773). 

The morning after watching The Greatest Showman for the first time I found the following New York Times article: https://www.nytimes.com/2018/02/09/movies/why-do-you-love-the-greatest-showman.html. The writer asked readers to respond to the question, “Why do you love The Greatest Showman?” Because critics mostly didn’t. The writer of the article received 1,200 responses.

This essay is my response.

First and foremost, Jackman’s Barnum is not a likeable man. Or, more accurately, the further we go, the less we like him. A man of humble beginnings, who falls in love with a girl beyond his station (perfectly portrayed by Michelle Williams), he is driven by “A Million Dreams” to give his family—and himself—the life (he believes) they deserve. After several business failures (a truth in the fiction) he stumbles on an idea that leads to his museum, circus, the bringing of the singer Jenny Lind to America, and his subsequent complex fame. In order to get his dream off the ground he pulls a scam on a bank but, hey—don’t we all hate banks? Barnum, along the way, shows his pettiness as well as his willingness to leave both his family (a wife and two daughters) and the group of “attractions” that he has assembled to achieve his dream, to close the gap further between who he was and who he feels he deserves to be. This is much harder to forgive. The Greatest Showman never asks it of us. Nor does Jackman’s portrayal. This is expected—his filmography includes many flawed, complex men who walk the moral line.

And this ashamed of my roots no matter how successful (and ruthless and arrogant) I become really is a thing. Just read Michael Ovitz’s autobiography.   

The gap between the classes and proving oneself or standing on your own is another prevalent theme, reflected in Barnum’s wealthy partner, Thomas Carlyle (Zach Efron) and the rags to riches Jenny Lind. Carlyle falls in love with an African American performer and their push and pull provides some of the most poignant moments in the film, especially when Carlyle stands up to his parents and forsakes his inheritance to be with the woman he loves, no matter the consequences. We cannot be so cynical as to believe that this is only Hollywood hokum. Their song, “Rewrite the Stars,” as well as the Oscar-nominated “This is Me” are moving, and staged and performed for full effect.

Speaking of the music, there has been considerable criticism that the songs are merely “ear worms”—slight alterations of popular music more than musical theatre fare. This is silly—ALL pop music is derivative and a great deal of it is manufactured by song-writing teams that operate behind the scenes. There is very little left to chance, which means a heavy reliance on formula. The song-writing team of Pasek and Paul are good at what they do (although I didn't care for the songs in La La Land… or the film) and if the songs act as “ear worms” then they did their job. Most importantly, the songs signal changes in character arcs, driven the action forward, fill in backstory, and set the stakes. So they do exactly what they are meant to in a musical. The songs from the ultra-popular Hamilton are no more original than those in The Greatest Showman. Brief research into Lin Manuel Miranda’s list of inspirations shows that he borrowed more than a little from the pillars of rap, hip-hop, and Broadway.

I find more than a little hope in the story that The Greatest Showman tells. Jackman’s Barnum ultimately becomes a better human being. Morality wins out over ego and ambition. Like the titular character in Pippin (one of my all-time favorite musicals), he finds out that being a decent father and husband is often times better than Spectacle. In “From Now On” he sings, “These eyes will not be blinded by the lights”—interesting to hear from a man who traffics in Spectacle—signaling that he will do a better job of keeping his family and professional lives separate and his priorities more clear.

As a father and husband, now 56 years old, I readily admit it took me awhile to get there.  

A prevalent theme that I find important in the film is the idea of doing better than our fathers. For generations this was mistaken to mean focusing solely on the economic measures of success, as the “capitalism first” moniker of America dictated. I think that many of us are wiser now, knowing that the true measure of a father is the quality of his relationship with his children. The Greatest Showman explores this relationship from several angles—from Barnum as a father to his wife’s father and Carlyle’s father.

There is one more father relationship for Barnum for which he falls far short of the optimal mark, never mind the hope that his declarations in “From Now On” might give us. This is the relationship with the assemblage of individuals that constitute his “circus.” Barnum helps them only through the economic mechanisms of giving them a job. But it is important to note that he doesn’t help them beyond that. They do, however help one another—which makes the film all the more powerful. They bond as a company, making the most of the opportunity they are given. “This is Me” is an anthem for our times and when the members of the company raise their own voices in “From Now On” and sing “and we will come back home, home again” it makes me wonder what damage humankind has done to our homes: our planet, our country, our neighborhood, our house.  

The moral conscience of the film is James Gordon Bennett (Paul Sparks), the founder, editor and publisher of the New York Herald. His persistent skepticism and commentary about Barnum’s motivations and character are essential to making this more than the fluff piece so many critics accuse it of being. Bennett represents a different brass ring for Barnum, who wants most of all to be taken seriously. 

Don’t we all. 

The Greatest Showman bears numerous viewings, with different intentions for each. By all means, enter the tent and let the pure Spectacle of it take you away from daily cares for an hour and fifteen minutes, but watch it at least once with attention to the changes in Barnum, effected through a combination of family, media, audience, economics, and the incorruptible mirror’s gaze. 

As all of us can see, a handful of ambitious, arrogant showmen currently run the world. The Greatest Showman offers one way to see how and why they “do like they do,” as stated in the lyrics of “The Other Side.”