Review: THE AMUSEMENT PARK

There is almost as much energy put into writing about films that aren’t made as those which are. Almost. Whether it’s scrapped productions, different cuts making it to theaters, or movies that have been lost to time and mismanagement, these pieces all beg the question “what if?” What if THE DAY THE CLOWN CRIED had been seen by many people? At the very least would we have been spared LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL? Will we ever see a complete version of Lang’s METROPOLIS, especially as new reels and pieces are periodically discovered around the globe and added to the total picture? With current technology, film geeks of all nations are able to work together to solve these “what ifs” and find previously lost/forgotten titles and restore them. The latest revelation is George Romero’s THE AMUSEMENT PARK, made in 1973 but only unearthed now thanks to work by the George A. Romero Foundation, Yellow Veil Pictures, IndieCollect, and Shudder. It is a product of its time and more experimental than most of Romero’s work—but it delivers a real sense of chaotic dread that is far more haunting than its premise could suggest.

THE AMUSEMENT PARK chronologically falls between Romero’s features THE CRAZIES and MARTIN. It was originally sponsored by a Lutheran group that wanted to highlight the abuse and neglect of the elderly in a world that seemed increasingly uninterested (if not outright hostile) to those of advanced years. While it is only 50 minutes long, the Lutherans were so creeped out by Romero’s vision that they essentially hid it away so no one would see it, tucked in one of those RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK warehouses overseen by top men.

The movie begins quaintly enough with actor Lincoln Maazel (MARTIN) addressing the camera as he walks through an empty amusement park, seemingly after a storm of some kind. Maazel is personable as he talks about getting older and that old people are one of the largest groups discriminated against in the country. With the composure of a PBS host to some ‘70s documentary, Maazel introduces THE AMUSEMENT PARK, which is a hard shift from the quaint small town television feel to a stark white room where sits a beaten old man (played by Maazel, barely recognizable from his affable greeting mere minutes ago). His is a stare that betrays horrors and pain that simply cannot be properly processed.

In walks another version of this man, also dressed all in white, trying to strike up a conversation before he heads out into the amusement park. The first, bloodied man grunts and warns against it, but this dapper fellow is curious and optimistic about what he’ll find, so he sets out.

The Old Man makes his way through the fairgrounds, often jostled by passersby who have no time for a doddering geriatric and his confusions. Other elderly people trade in their nice watches and clocks for a few ticket stubs and a measly five dollars, and then try to navigate the park themselves. At every turn, the Old Man is greeted by impatience, unfair practices, being overlooked for the youthful and/or wealthy, insulted, shoved around, and even beaten and robbed. Like any carnival, the games are rigged but the marks seem solely to be the infirm who are shuffled around and denied food, fairness, or dignity. Flashing throughout these travels are quick appearances of a person in a Grim Reaper costume, constantly on watch and haunting the crowd.

The bookending of Maazel addressing the audience like a common PBS special is a clever bit of disorientation that gives the impression of an objective presentation about current situations before launching into a fairly experimental film. Romero draws on his (and his crew’s) experiences working with Pittsburgh’s public broadcasting station, WQED (where Mr. Rogers also got his start around the same time), to use framing and editing and cadences of those exposés to lull audiences into the idea that this will be a straightforward, albeit depressing, inspection of the indignities faced by the aging population. The switch over to a pure allegory that feels like a mash-up of Ray Bradbury’s lamenting humanism with Harlan Ellison’s angry misanthropy is quite alarming and immediately stirs viewers that something is off.

While Romero was a pioneer in terms of narrative and subtext, most of his films were fairly normal in terms of cinematography and flow. NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD was revolutionary in a lot of ways, but the story unfolded in the usual three-act structure and the visuals were a combination of film noir, German expressionism, and Hitchcock thrillers. THE AMUSEMENT PARK is one of the most experimental works Romero has put out; he indulged in his ‘60s counterculture artistry background with VANILLA and MARTIN, but never to this degree. There are exaggerated, almost silent film-type comedic performances used inside a very troubling segment about neglect, starvation, and prejudice. The fun greetings of carnival barkers greeting elderly patrons to a ride to immediately dive into a bare and depressing activity room for seniors isn’t just a jarring juxtaposition but mirrors that panic of an old person finding themselves with limited options and trapped in a place with seemingly no compassion, and no exit. This is heightened by switching from static cameras to handheld with quick close-ups and some fish-eye type lenses used to exaggerate this chaotic turn of events. None of this is subtle—but Romero was never subtle and when he is specifically targeting a topic he finds important and pressing, he has no time to hope people pick up on his clues.

There are minor issues here and there, as with most works. Even though it’s only 50 minutes, there are some segments (particularly a portion about a fortune teller showing a young couple how abandoned and impoverished they will be when older) that simply go on too long. That lack of subtlety can cut against the film as the same point is repeatedly made. And, while not a fair knock against THE AMUSEMENT PARK, it is clear there are whole pieces missing with various fades to black or audio that doesn’t feel finished.

The opening declaration about the elderly being the most maligned and oppressed group in America feels unnecessarily hyperbolic, especially when it could’ve been expanded to include other groups that face similar challenges. THE AMUSEMENT PARK was made in 1973—about a year after Geraldo Rivera’s infamous (and shocking) look at Willowbrook State School in Staten Island. This was a place for people of varying degrees and types of disabilities, who were essentially abandoned by the school’s caretakers, left to be in their own filth, often isolated, and barely able to get food let alone anything approaching medical attention. Four years after THE AMUSEMENT PARK was the San Francisco 504 sit-in, an attempt by people with physical and developmental disabilities to raise awareness and fight for some (any) protections under the law; a long struggle that wouldn’t come to fruition until the 1990 Americans With Disabilities Act (and even then it is severely lacking). This isn’t to say that Romero’s film needed to be changed to accommodate these matters, but that there were concurrent concerns and very similar issues facing another group (one whose numbers often overlapped with the elderly).

THE AMUSEMENT PARK is a fascinating look at a stepping stone in Romero’s career. Much of his social commentary was either accidental (Duane Jones’ casting as the lead in NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD was infamously not to underscore the civil rights subtext but just because he was the best actor) or so broad that it wasn’t as effective. THE AMUSEMENT PARK finds the writer/director sharpening his teeth and readying himself to wake the American people up to their callous ways through shocking and disturbing imagery. This isn’t zombies ripping apart a soldier type of outrageousness, but an almost totally immersive journey through the hell of being cast aside and left to bleed and weep alone and forgotten. It’s a true testament to the filmmaker’s talents that it’s almost 40 years later and THE AMUSEMENT PARK remains an effective dive into the broken psyche and pain of so many, with images and scenarios that induce anxiety and outrage amidst the apathy of those onscreen. It’s good that the “what if” in this case was solved, but it’s also very obvious why these descent into madness was too much for the Lutherans to handle.

THE AMUSEMENT PARK will be available on Shudder starting June 8, 2021.