Of course, any show about 1930s-era carnival demands the requisite gaggle of freaks, and recent episodes have focused increasingly on the human emotions and hopes of the carnies, instead of just letting them linger in the background like expensive props, hissing and leering and just generally creeping us out. But even when we get to know these characters a little better, they prove to be utterly doomed as well. Sofie unceremoniously loses her virginity to a local guy on the floor of a café. The local turns out to be married, and her telepathic mother chides her about the whole affair. Dora Mae (Amanda Aday), one of the young topless dancers in the carnival, is attacked by a mob of men at a show. She seems rattled but fine afterwards when her father (Toby Huss) tries to soothe her, but later a carnival hand finds her strung up and murdered with the word "harlot" carved into her forehead. Later, the dead girl's sister Libby (Carla Gallo) tries to leave for Hollywood with her father and Sofie, but her father backs out at the last minute, leaving their dreams of escaping the carny life high and dry.

The carnival's location on the fringes of town and on the fringes of acceptable society presents a compelling metaphor for the times, except that real, familiar relationships and an exploration of societal norms never really enter the picture. The folks in town are mostly depicted as a dreary, selfish, faceless mob, with a few exceptions in the prideful prostitute Samson visits during a black blizzard and the local sheriff who seeks out Hawkins to heal his sick mother. In an effort to humanize the carnival's mixed bag of nuts, the locals are revealed as the true freaks time and time again. Still, sorting between the lesser of all evils isn't anyone's favorite pastime, particularly when the overarching theme is that shit happens to everyone and there's not much you can do about it.

Which can really force you to question whether or not, after a lifetime of watching men in white hats prevailing over men in black hats, you're prepared to digest fare this chaotic and bleak. Each week we witness fairly innocent characters being ripped to shreds by their harsh circumstances, to the point where we don't want to hang out with these poor bastards any more. After all, when you have no control at all over your destiny and don't understand what little power you do have, what's the point in moving forward? Why not just surrender to the whims of a cruel universe? To creator Daniel Knauf's credit, "Carnivale" naturally toys with such existential questions along the way, as it leads us on a tour through the trapped, hopeless corridors of the Great Depression.

Still, each episode of "Carnivale" brings back that disappointment you feel as a kid when you come to the last few pages of "The Grapes of Wrath," and those poor Joads are in worse shape than ever. Sure, I recognized even then that, when Rose of Sharon generously offered up her breast milk to a hungry vagrant, it was supposed to be a touching metaphor for mankind's persistent drive to endure despite every hardship. That didn't keep me from finding the whole thing tremendously depressing, and sort of gross to boot.

Unmitigated pain and disappointment might be new for television, and therefore worthy of applause, but the appeal of such a dark path wears thin pretty quickly. While the most dire circumstances and intensely disturbing events will capture an audience's attention, holding that attention with subtler expressions of human frailty and hints of optimism constitutes a far greater challenge to the storyteller. Hopefully as it nears the end of its first season, "Carnivale" will live up to Samson's original claims, presenting a more balanced portrait of both the cruelty and the divinity found in the human experience.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

For more Heather Havrilesky, click here

Recent Stories