It's PG, it's Disney, and it scared the living shit outta me.

Here's
the deal; way back, in Heartland America, a carnival comes to town and
all is not fucking well.  Wish-fulfillment horror ensues.

Now,
most of you probably don't know from carnivals because you live in
civilized parts of the world.  I don't.  And once or twice a
year, usually in the Fall, the fucking carnival would come to town, and
we'd all take our lives into our own young little hands.  You'd
get on the Tilt-A-Whirl and see loose bolts and shit, not to mention
that the ride is being run by a guy who makes the kid in Deliverance
look like a fucking Rhodes Scholar.  And, Sweet Jesus, he was the
most reputable looking one in the whole buch!  Anyway, I
digress. 

This was one of those flicks that was forever on
HBO when I was a kid, and I almost never missed it, but for the fact
that I had to sleep sometime and go to school occasionally.  As
such, I must've watched this fucking thing about ten thousand times and
it scared me more with each viewing.  Now, before you ask, no,
there's almost no blood and certainly no tits in this thing, but I'm
telling you, this is one of those movies that just gets right the fuck
under your skin and writhes around while you watch it, competely
helpless to do anything about it.

It's based on the Ray Bradbury
novel of the same name, and while this flick has almost no relation to
the book (aside from the central conciets), Brabury wrote a script that
must've been bulletproof.  The stories of how Disney fucked with
this flick after a couple of disasterous screenings would make you burn
your copy of The Lion King in protest.  And yet, the core
of the thematic shit from the book remained well in tact.  Which
was probably what pissed the Disney execs off in the first place.

Without giving too much of the plot away, the carnival is run by
Jonathan Pryce (which in and of itself is a fucking scary proposition),
and he'll grant your most sincere wish, and then take you to the
fucking cleaners for payment.  The old spinster broad that wants
to be a young hottie, holy living fuck, man, she gets Rogered but
good.  Two young boys get hot on the trail of what's really going
down under the tents, and thus get sucked into a cat-and-mouse game
with Jonny and his main Freaks.

Now, what you have to understand is this; I got blinded early and bad by Raiders of the Lost Ark,
and have had stars in my eyes ever since.  With that in mind, it's
pretty easy to understand how this movie would freak me out.  The
thing plays out kind of like a fable and sometimes those Goddamned
fables will fuck with your head.  This one fucked with mine, and how, baby.

Technically, the movie leaves a lot to be desired.  The F/X are older than hell now, so it's kind of like watching Tron on DVD; lots of nostalgia, not much pow, you know.  What the flick has
got is two fucking rock star performances.  One from Jason Robards
as the father filled to the Dr. Phil brim with regret, and Jonathan
Pryce as one of the more fucked-up villains ever put on film. 
There's something about the primal desperation and hunger that he plays
in every scene that just shocks the balls right off you.  If
that's not enough to pique your interst, there's a scene with Pam Grier
stroking a tarantula like it's John Holmes' cock.  Must be seen to
be believed.

Get and love it. 

Save yourselves.

'Nuff Sugar