Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus
What accounts for the difference in how these two circuses are received? The answers would please P.T. Barnum, America’s first master of spin, the man who made millions giving suckers uneven breaks: marketing, packaging, and product. Ringling Bros. has positioned itself as a purveyor of regular American entertainment, something you can safely take your kids to and not worry that you’re undermining their faith in American-style democracy or capitalism or whatever God or gods you worship on Sunday or Saturday. And the presence of kids and moms and dads in comfortable but inelegant weekend clothes is part of what makes sitting in the audience at Ringling Bros. so different from watching Cirque du Soleil. The last time I caught that show I sat in front of someone who was painstakingly explaining why she’d become a vegan and why she hated animal acts, fur coats, and the use of animals in lab testing. At Ringling Bros. the person behind me was an anxious father who asked his daughter after every act: “Did you like that? Do you like the circus? Wasn’t that clown funny? Wasn’t that exciting?” Which made me realize that death-defying acts, like magicians, make much more sense to grown-ups than to kids. I think the circus is really meant for adults of all ages.
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Since he’s the featured clown, Larible never performs with the other clowns, so his status is never challenged. And his one extended audience-participation bit–he tries to teach four volunteers a remarkably complicated juggling act–is designed to show just how much frustration he can endure without losing his temper. By the end of this segment, Larible has proved himself in every way the perfect, patient, long-suffering, thoroughly house-trained dad.
