Filmed in 1973 by George A. Romero, this mid-length feature was produced by the Lutheran Society to promote a better attitude to giving respect and caring for the elderly. Upon seeing the finished product, they were not impressed and the film was shelved, only to be resurrected like the ghouls in Romero’s more famous films almost half a century later. While the director was always beloved in genre circles, it was posthumously that his genius was given the respect he deserved within the more conservative cineaste community. The Amusement Park proves that Romero’s intrinsic gift of injecting twisted social commentary into his work turns what would should have been a simple public information film into something surreally perverse and horrific.
The film is bookended with actor Lincoln Maazel (the overbearing grandfather in Romero’s Martin) explaining the film’s philosophy, and when we first see him in the film he’s in a white room, dressed in a Colonel Sanders white suit, all excited about his day out at the titular park. There’s a man sat there though, battered and bloodied, who looks remarkably like him. He’s downtrodden, though and certainly not in the mood to entertain the chirpy chap asking if he’d like to go outside with him. Over the course of the next hour, we can see why he thinks that way. Throughout his stay in the park, the man is treated badly. He’s looked down on while eating – as well as seeing how others who may not be able to afford the ‘tickets’ to buy food are treated. He witnesses a younger man collide with an older couple on the bumper cars, only to have his testimony doubted because he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He’s later assaulted and robbed by a group of hooligans. It’s not a good day at all.
Even without the introductory monologue, Romero makes it very clear about the horrors of old age and the way the elderly are treated in society. It’s a message that rings true to this day. He fills the joyous fairground with haunting visages, people wandering aimless and lost with plasters or bandages on their face; restrictions everywhere, they have become neglected monsters. By showing us how the story will end with the white room encounter, we become even more vigilant to the protagonist’s situation, although the message is not delivered subtly. The eerie quality of the park itself and the way it’s presented feels what Carnival of Souls would have been if it had been part of The Twilight Zone.
Behind the camera is Night of the Living Dead’s opening ghoul Bill Hinzman, and the hand-held approach foreshadows the found footage films that would follow decades later. Romero makes the dour situation enjoyable with flashes of humour as the disturbing becomes the ludicrous. A sequence in which a young couple consult a fortune teller and are presented with their bleak future is particularly potent.
Having been shelved for decades, it’s fascinating to see this treat from the Romero vault, and we should be grateful that it exists at all. The Lutheran society might not have appreciated Romero’s vision of respect for our elders, but his poignant vision and message rams home just as powerfully today.
The Amusement Park is available exclusively on Shudder from June 8th.
