In the Oscar-winning director, Guillermo del Toro’s new film, Nightmare Alley, as an out-of-practice mentalist, Pete (David Strathairn), warns of the emotional damage his craft can wreak, his forceful protégé, Stan Carlisle (Bradley Cooper), begs just one question — what’s wrong with a little hope?
Following The Shape of Water’s legacy-defining success, Guillermo del Toro takes a more realistic, albeit nonetheless stylish approach to dissecting a monster in Nightmare Alley. But the beast he wrestles with here bears no claws, no fangs, and not even gills. Just a devilish smile and a complete absence of ethics.
Del Toro examines the fine line of illusion to a degree that he hasn’t explored since Pan’s Labyrinth, yet to an entirely different end. It’s not so much about reconciling what’s real — though that definitely plays a meaningful role — but the chaos that unfolds when a carney’s marks hold their breath for just a little too long.
Like much of del Toro’s work, Nightmare Alley wasn’t born in a vacuum. Some early reactions to the film go so far as to say it pales in comparison to Edmund Goulding’s classic adaptation from 1947. The crucial difference being del Toro’s take exists in a world where “psychic” mediums aren’t relegated to sideshows, cooped-up shops, or the occasional Vegas showroom. Instead, they’re on national television.
And that’s not to say the film takes a strong stance against things like tarot, palm readings, or astrology in general. It’s the push to being something you’re not — like a conduit for the dead — that lies at the heart of del Toro’s argument.
“Born for it”
Stan doesn’t just have a knack for deception; his life is essentially built on it. While del Toro holds Stan’s deepest secrets up his sleeve, what’s clear from the film’s onset is that he’s running from a past that has literally gone up in flames.
After tailing one performer (Mark Povinelli) out of a train station, Stan wanders into a traveling carnival. Almost immediately, he stumbles upon the grimmest attraction the production offers — the “geek.” It’s here, staring down at a terrified, drugged, and unnamed man bite into the neck of a live chicken, that Stan realizes with the right gimmick, he can be anybody.
Later and as Stan begins to develop a deeper understanding of mentalism, the illusion he’ll try to build a career out of, the carnival’s owner (Willem Dafoe) cues him in on a particularly depraved trick of the trade. None of the geeks they employ are truly wild, monstrous, or really even unfit for society. They’re just broken, desperate, and unlucky enough to wind up on “nightmare alley.” As a geek, they’re afforded at least a temporary sense of purpose. Unfortunately, this hope has a hook in the form of a covert opium addiction. By the time they notice their leg in the proverbial beartrap, it’s far too late.
But for Stan, this doesn’t deter him in the slightest. It instead only encourages him to see how much further hope can be exploited.
“Spook show”
Stan is repeatedly warned by both Pete and his wife, fellow psychic Zeena (Toni Collette), of the need to dial back the illusions when it touches a mark — a customer ensnared by the ruse — too deeply. But after Pete finally succumbs to his alcoholism, entirely due to Stan’s negligence, the young conman quickly begins to reject restraint. And when he’s able to dissuade a sheriff from shutting down the carnival through the power of his “clairvoyance,” he sprints past the point of no return.
He drags along his partner and co-performer, Molly (Rooney Mara), who is at first swept up in Stan’s dreams and aspirations. After all, he’s proven up to this point to be mostly sincere, optimistic, and undeniably charming. Still, even the luster of performing in a high-class club wanes as Stan pushes his talent further outside of the realm of belief and, tragically, safety.
His confidence places him in the sights of Dr. Lilith Ritter (Cate Blanchett), a psychologist and femme fatale that convinces Stan to try his hand at his biggest marks yet. At first, she feeds him critical information about her patients, all while subjecting Stan to her own trade, if nothing else to show him how many ways there are to pry open someone’s mind. But even she’s able to exercise discipline with the knowledge she has, though her tactic of recording virtually everything raises at least some suspicion.
But by the time Stan brushes the peak of his mentalism, he’s utterly blind to consequence. The only thing he can manage to perceive is power. Raw, ill-gotten, and precarious power.
“They fool themselves”
It’s never enough for Stan to just trick his clients momentarily. By the time he tackles one of the world’s wealthiest and dangerous men, Ezra Grindle (Richard Jenkins), he’s committed to bringing closure. But what he fails to remember, is that closure has a cost — one that compounds with each lie Stan uses to pay for it.
Stan’s fall, or plummet, from grace triggers just as del Toro finally reveals Stan for what he is — a killer. Pete’s demise hints at this, and after Ezra realizes Stan is what he describes as “a lying mother fucker,” he fully embraces his nature one more with a face bashing that’s grown into a hallmark of del Toro’s work.
Stan still manages to run, but only into a fate that’s seemingly worse than death. As he attempts to convince Molly otherwise after she conclusively leaves him (a key change from Goulding’s version), he grabs her arms for just a moment. While hers are covered in fake blood on account of their ruse, the blood on Stan’s hands is real. Both fluids mix, and what’s left is indistinguishable. At this moment, lies and truth converge, leaving only a stain of violence.
Though he’s able to elude authorities, Stan’s unable to return to his past life, and reluctantly shambles into another traveling circus. After he discovers that Clem’s operation has been liquidated and its pieces have fallen into the hands of another carney, Stan devolves to hysteria as he agrees to become the new proprietor’s next geek.
Stan’s plight ends on a hysterically poetic note seemingly worse than death. In Nightmare Alley, hope isn’t an end, but a means, one that still runs the risk of suffering even when it’s packaged as something moving and ethereal. In fact, that may not be hope at all, but something viler and more toxic. After all:
“It ain’t hope if it’s a lie.”
Continue the conversation about Nightmare Alley by listening to our recent The Cinematic Schematic podcast episode reviewing the film.
