Photo cred: FX Networks

We’re only two episodes in, but this season of American Horror Story is already looking promising as the best one thus far. As you may or may not know, each season American Horror Story takes up an entirely new storyline and set of characters around the theme of horror, with previous seasons involving things like haunted houses, insane asylums and witches. Fittingly enough given the show’s dark subject matter and the month it’s premiering in, one of this season’s current subplots is arguably the creepiest yet (for all you coulrophobes out there: it involves a killer clown). But perhaps more intriguing is the main plot which revolves around a “freak show” circus act in the 1950s struggling to get off the ground and attract a real following. With this the show brings up a host of interesting ideas and challenges about normativity (what one considers standard and “normal” physical appearances, lifestyles and behaviors in society), as well as representation of the non-normative on television today. If you’re all caught up with AHS or don’t mind spoilers, read ahead to find out how.

The trope of the “freak show” isn’t terribly new or original, and we have traditional characters we might expect from this setting on the show—like the bearded lady, people with dwarfism, people without certain limbs, and conjoined twins. Here, both in the reality of the “freak show” circus and often in its artistic depiction, the entertainment value comes from the ability to shock the audience. The theme of macabre and horror is achieved through the presentation of bodies that most consider to be strange and unknown. It’s “creepy” because it’s non-normative, and attached to these bodies are inevitably other concepts that attain a non-normative slant—such as behavior and sexuality. In other words, this particular genre exploits not just horror of the lesser known, but curiosity of it as well, which is often spun as a perverse one.

Naturally, we see how the trope can be inherently problematic, because who are the figures of these “freak shows” anyway? People. And to be more specific, often people with disabilities or otherwise atypical features, or non-heteronormative people such as transpeople. But the good thing is that in art the trope is seldom left simply at that, and we are often made to confront our own prejudices and the narrowness of our definitions of normativity. Often we get an interesting “role reversal” where we’re forced to appraise the ways in which our own behavior and lifestyles are really the ones deserving of contempt, perturbation, disgust or any other emotion “freak shows” may engender.

In the first episode, the owner and headliner of the freak show Elsa Mars (played by Jessica Lange) delivers an incisive speech to a girl from town whose boredom had driven her to party and participate in the culture of the freak show. Feeling ashamed of herself after a period, the girl turns her guilt against the group and threatens to warn the town of the “depraved monsters” of the show. Dazzlingly and intensely acted by Lange, Elsa accuses the people of the girl’s small town of monstrosity of a different kind–leading soulless, bitter and empty lives. “Everyone is living the life they chose,” Elsa tells her of the freak show performers, “but you undoubtedly will be one of those soulless monsters. Perhaps you already are.” And that in turn begs the question of us, the audience, perhaps in some formed addressed through this challenging “you”—who are the true “monsters” of society? Those who look different and live their lives differently, or those who espouse intolerance and hate of difference?

And unlike the medium of the “freak show” itself, which perhaps inherently eschews the representation of the performers’ human complexity and flattens them to mere “freaks”, artistic mediums exploring this trope can give us deeper, more rounded characterizations of the people that make up the show.

Elsa’s character is fascinating, nuanced and at times even frightening, played brilliantly as always by Jessica Lange. Her motivation in life is clear (to become a famous star), but her means of going about it and her relations with the other characters are at once exploitative and understanding, motherly and vindictive. She defends the integrity of the other performers against detractors and vilifiers like the girl in the first episode, but still ultimately exploits them to bring attention to herself and further her own personal dreams. In the surprising reveal at the end of the first episode, we discover she is a double leg amputee and thus by definition, a “freak” herself. However, she continues to hide this fact and so does not take pride in her difference as some characters do. But many other characters have similarly complicated relationships with their selves. Jimmy Darling and his circle of friends take pride in who they are among themselves and consider themselves no different than anyone else, or at least try to. In the second episode they attempt to eat at a local diner, Jimmy in particular demanding the respect and equality of service that the other patrons enjoy. They naturally hate being called and dismissed as “freaks”, and struggle with the desire to be regarded as “normal” like everyone else. Jimmy in particular has conflicting views of himself, at times covering up his “claw” hands in public and intimate settings, and at others displaying them proudly. He is torn between wanting to be “normal”, and wanting to be respected just as he is.

Clearly, these characters will experience a range of emotions and relationships. To me, this is somewhat of a revelation. In essence what we have here is the focus placed on blatantly non-normative characters—people with disabilities, non-heteronormative people – and their human portrayal within a trope and even society that often works to dehumanize them. It is refreshing to see characters who would be traditionally flattened by being relegated to sidekick, or reviled as villain or praised as unnaturally holy character, or thrown in ad hoc to give the illusion of diversity, being depicted roundly and thrust to the forefront. Their struggles are both specific to those non-normative people may face, and universal in that everyone knows what it is to be ostracized in some way, but they are people above all, and not mere metaphors.

But what it also boils down to is the simple fact that not only are people with disabilities and non-heteronormative people being portrayed, but that they are being acted by actual disabled actors and actual non-heteronormative actors. Representation is so important and becoming much more visible as an issue nowadays, and rightfully so, as we don’t live in a world where everyone comes from the same backgrounds, of the same social class and with the same abilities. The world is so incredibly diverse, so why wouldn’t our television, our literature, our art in general reflect this? Somehow dragons, wizards and zombies have traditionally been less of a stretch of the imagination than disabled characters in the media, though we are seeing improvements. But when non-normative people are so rarely depicted, it seems like a particularly big slap in the face when non-normative characters are not even depicted by non-normative actors. There is no shortage of actors with disabilities, or trans actors, or any other “non-normative” sort of actor you can possibly think of. They are out there, looking for work, and often finding trouble in this due to both the lack of non-normative roles, and also the unwillingness to cast these actors in roles not specifically meant to be non-normative. Now, if a non-normative actor cannot easily play the role of a normative character, why is it so easy for the opposite to occur?

Instances of both cases happen in AHS. The main characters of course, are the returning actors from previous seasons (Jessica Lange, Sarah Paulson, Evan Peters, Angela Bassett) who are not disabled or otherwise non-normative and take up the roles of characters with disabilities or non-normative features. But a number of the cast is played by actual disabled or trans actors. One especially notable example might be the character of “Ma petite” played by Indian actress Jyoti Amge, who became famous for setting the Guinness world record for smallest living woman. The other actors are lesser known, but we get to know some of them through mini documentaries AHS released, which you can see at the following links: I, II, III, IV.

Their stories in their own words are remarkable, particularly the view they hold of their own life. British actor Mat Fraser, who plays the character “Paul the Illustrated Seal”, makes an interesting point about playing the role of a “freak” in a freak show, and how the ostensibly exploitative concept can actually be empowering. Since the 2000s he has researched the culture of freak shows and has even gotten involved in real life freak shows himself. He states that he was surprised to learn that while people were there to see and stare at his physical difference, he “had 110 percent of the audience’s attention, and they had to listen to everything [he] said.” Through a medium of entertainment that may seem to take advantage of the performer, such as freak shows (and even something like strip shows which he uses as an example), Fraser brings up an interesting point that there is in fact more “control and power of the body on stage” than one may think. Indeed, even in a show like AHS, there is power on the part of the non-normative actors in using their difference in their craft, shamelessly, and on their own terms. If they are “freaks,” as so many of the actors refer to themselves, it is because they choose to view themselves as such, and because ultimately—what’s wrong with being a “freak”? As Fraser so wonderfully sums up of himself, “I’m powerful and I’m awesome – and I have these (gesturing towards his shortened arms) — and I’m a freak. And I’m a freak actor. Playing a freak. And it’s awesome.”

But certainly, physical features and ways of being that many people may view as different, or “freaky” or interesting or strange in any way are part of other peoples’ lived experiences. As actress Rose Siggins says of herself in her documentary, “I kinda like the way I am, and I would never change it. I couldn’t imagine being whatever everybody else calls normal because this is my normal.” And it is precisely this challenge to the idea of “normativity”—the smashing of the idea of there being an objective, correct, or desireable normality at all—that I’m hoping to get from this season of AHS. This is what would make this season the most original and refreshing of the show, and even one of the more progressive shows on television today.

AHS pushes the boundaries in many other facets, and who among us doesn’t love the show for its ability to scare and disturb us, make us laugh, and for inevitably making us wonder, “did they really just go there?” Thankfully, the fascination isn’t completely gratuitous or shallow, and the frights are looking to be accompanied by important food for thought and much needed representational diversity this season as well.

If you’re loving AHS: Freak Show thus far and perhaps even think it could push the envelope farther than it has, I highly recommend the book Geek Love by Katherine Dunn. The premise is much the same as Freak Show—so similar in fact, that I wonder if Freak Show isn’t loosely based on it, but I haven’t found anything official to confirm this fact yet. In any case, it’s another excellent look at (non) normativity, spectacle, exploitation and control, and family relationships all wrapped up into one of the more bizarre but awesome books you’ll read.