In turn of the century Illinois, a mysterious carnival run by the menacing Mr. Dark shows up in the night to grant the deepest desires of the town folk for a very steep price. The story unfolds through the eyes of two 12-year-old best friends (Vidal Petersen and Shawn Carson), who are the first to twig to the real motives behind the carnival.
One must give Walt Disney Studios credit at the time for taking a stab at something different, but still with a bit of class. The film hit theaters in the spring of 1983 and landed with a thud before vanishing into the haze. It is not hard to see why. All of the elements are present for a potentially scary tale, but this adaptation is so stoic and restrained that it borders on lifeless.
Part of the problem is the approach. I have not read the story by Ray Bradbury (who adapts it for the screen here), but the general focus is as old as the hills. Prior to this film, there were countless books and movies documenting the arrival of a devil who promises everything in return for one's soul, and there have been a number since this adaptation. However, this film plays out like no one has seen this scenario a million times before and it integrates no distinction or flourishes to set it apart.
The film looks great, but it is nearly devoid of suspense or surprises. You know you are in the land of cliches when, given the setting and time, it opens with Waltons-esque homespun narration. At every turn, one can just envision the most unimaginative route and the film takes it. The film introduces some subplots and side characters that seem to be important - such as the lightning rod salesman - but ultimately remain unexplored.
It is also murky as to whether the townspeople realize that they are selling their souls or not. Either way the bargains go predictably awry (i.e., the person pining for their lost youth and beauty regains it, only to go blind, etc.).
There are only four characters of note and only one of the performances actually works to any extent.
The nominal leads are the two boys. Peterson and Carson are adequate - nothing more and nothing less. There is not much chemistry between them and neither possesses the talent of a Henry Thomas or Drew Barrymore.
Snagging two-time Oscar winner Jason Robards, Jr. For the role of the town librarian and Peterson's father must have seemed like a coup, but it does not work at all. The film harps constantly on the fact that Robards' character had his son late in life with his younger wife and he is a man of words rather than a man of action. To convey this, Robards acts as though mummified. There is a huge difference between being older and being dead. Robards reads every line in a tired whiskey-tinged voice that sounds more like nights are spent at the local bar as opposed to the library. What life the film does have gets drained even further whenever he takes center stage.
By contrast, Jonathan Pryce turns in an appropriately menacing performance as Mr. Dark. Although he is vanquished entirely too easily and conveniently with a minimum of excitement.
And would it have killed someone to have handed one of the women in the cast anything to do? Three-time Oscar nominee Diane Ladd is on hand as Carson's mother, who was abandoned by her errant husband and spends her days deluding herself that he will return. She is introduced and almost promptly forgotten. Ditto, Pam Grier makes a ravishing presence as The Dust Witch, but her striking appearance is as far as it goes.
As with the early portions of the film, the climax is fairly staid and predictable - even with the arrival of a cataclysmic storm, which somehow still seems underwhelming. Never fear, Arthur Hill's dull narration closes things out to assure us that everything is fine - if you are still awake that is.
One must give Walt Disney Studios credit at the time for taking a stab at something different, but still with a bit of class. The film hit theaters in the spring of 1983 and landed with a thud before vanishing into the haze. It is not hard to see why. All of the elements are present for a potentially scary tale, but this adaptation is so stoic and restrained that it borders on lifeless.
Part of the problem is the approach. I have not read the story by Ray Bradbury (who adapts it for the screen here), but the general focus is as old as the hills. Prior to this film, there were countless books and movies documenting the arrival of a devil who promises everything in return for one's soul, and there have been a number since this adaptation. However, this film plays out like no one has seen this scenario a million times before and it integrates no distinction or flourishes to set it apart.
The film looks great, but it is nearly devoid of suspense or surprises. You know you are in the land of cliches when, given the setting and time, it opens with Waltons-esque homespun narration. At every turn, one can just envision the most unimaginative route and the film takes it. The film introduces some subplots and side characters that seem to be important - such as the lightning rod salesman - but ultimately remain unexplored.
It is also murky as to whether the townspeople realize that they are selling their souls or not. Either way the bargains go predictably awry (i.e., the person pining for their lost youth and beauty regains it, only to go blind, etc.).
There are only four characters of note and only one of the performances actually works to any extent.
The nominal leads are the two boys. Peterson and Carson are adequate - nothing more and nothing less. There is not much chemistry between them and neither possesses the talent of a Henry Thomas or Drew Barrymore.
Snagging two-time Oscar winner Jason Robards, Jr. For the role of the town librarian and Peterson's father must have seemed like a coup, but it does not work at all. The film harps constantly on the fact that Robards' character had his son late in life with his younger wife and he is a man of words rather than a man of action. To convey this, Robards acts as though mummified. There is a huge difference between being older and being dead. Robards reads every line in a tired whiskey-tinged voice that sounds more like nights are spent at the local bar as opposed to the library. What life the film does have gets drained even further whenever he takes center stage.
By contrast, Jonathan Pryce turns in an appropriately menacing performance as Mr. Dark. Although he is vanquished entirely too easily and conveniently with a minimum of excitement.
And would it have killed someone to have handed one of the women in the cast anything to do? Three-time Oscar nominee Diane Ladd is on hand as Carson's mother, who was abandoned by her errant husband and spends her days deluding herself that he will return. She is introduced and almost promptly forgotten. Ditto, Pam Grier makes a ravishing presence as The Dust Witch, but her striking appearance is as far as it goes.
As with the early portions of the film, the climax is fairly staid and predictable - even with the arrival of a cataclysmic storm, which somehow still seems underwhelming. Never fear, Arthur Hill's dull narration closes things out to assure us that everything is fine - if you are still awake that is.