Last night I stayed up well past my “bedtime” to witness the outcome of a fabulous game of football. Anyone watch the USC/Texas game yesterday/early this morning? Football should really always be like that—fast, hard-hitting, trick plays, down-to-the-wire kicking, etc. I remember a few years back in 2005 when those same two teams met in the championship game, and Vince Young was unbelievable; and USC was denied a repeat title, which I liked because I usually root for the underdog (unless my Wolverines are playing…). Anyhow, last evening’s game was a delight to watch with freshmen on both sides playing like veterans to give their respective teams a chance at victory. Yet it was the freshman walk-on kicker for USC who hit only his second collegiate field goal attempt to send the game into overtime and who nailed a gorgeous 43-yarder in the second OT to finally win the thing (I was actually cheering for Texas as the lower seed, but you gotta give props where they’re due!). A common comment thrown around last night was that the kid has “ice water in his veins.”

You might be wondering at this point how football fits in with this week’s film, The Greatest Show on Earth. Well, those who know me best understand that I would meld football into every aspect of my life if I could, but the main connection today is the reference to what people’s blood is made of. That just sounded rather disgusting, but stay with me for a sec. USC’s kicker has ice water in his veins, a metaphor for the fact that he performs well in high-stress situations. In our film this week, several characters bring up the idea that it is possible to have “sawdust” in one’s veins if one loves the circus. Holly, the trapeze artist, first accuses her boyfriend Brad, the circus manager, of having the woody substance flowing through his veins after he reneges on his promise to put her act in the center ring after hiring the sensational European aerialist known as The Great Sebastian. Buttons the Clown tries to comfort the disappointed Holly by explaining to her that, while he’s sure Brad loves her, he also knows that Brad’s dedication to the well-being of the circus requires him to sacrifice personal feelings for the good of his show. Throughout the film, Holly then struggles with whether or not Brad truly loves her and whether or not she loves Brad enough to forgive him his preference for the circus over herself. She allows Sebastian to toy with her, woo her, and even propose to her (which she accepts), disregarding the good advice of other women who have formerly been the recipients of Sebastian’s fickle attentions.

Holly enjoying the crowd’s applause under the Big Top.

While I felt that Holly should have been more understanding regarding Brad’s responsibility to produce the best show possible in order to enable the circus to visit all the small towns without being called home early by its owners, I do really sympathize with her when she leaves Brad for Sebastian. The poor girl seems so lonely for love that she is willing to marry a man whose tendencies indicate he will be unfaithful to her instead of staying with the man who really loves her but can’t fully show her he does because his job is always there between them. Plus, Brad doesn’t seem too upset when Holly transfers her affections from him—especially when Angel’s around to serve him coffee and tidy up his trailer.

At the end of the film (spoiler alert!) after the spectacular train disaster and the chaos that ensues, Brad might very well be wrong when he accuses Holly of having sawdust in her veins. As the wild animals escape from their cages and circus members wander around dazed and confused, Holly vaults into action, issuing directions and inventing creative solutions to save the circus when the wounded Brad cannot come to the aid of his performers. Her actions might just stem from the fact that she has finally realized she only loves the man with sawdust in his veins, and so she cares for what he loves and tries to save his show for him. Holly’s love for Brad mimics his love for the circus, leading Brad to see her dedication to the show as equal to his own—and allowing him to realize that they are soulmates who should be together, a fact which Holly realizes as well as she leads a buoyant circus parade through town and victoriously returns to the weakened Brad.

Buttons (who is really a doctor in hiding!) and Holly tend to the wounded Brad after the train crash.

For Me Then…

The Greatest Show on Earth’s toying with the sawdust/blood metaphor reminded me in a way of that scene from the first Pirates of the Caribbean film, The Curse of the Black Pearl, when Jack and Elizabeth are marooned on the deserted island and Jack tries to drunkenly explain the meaning of a ship: “That’s what a ship is, you know. It’s not just a keel and a hull and sails; that’s what a ship needs. But what a ship is, what the Black Pearl really is, is freedom.” I think likewise with the circus. The circus isn’t just clowns and acrobats and trained animals—and sawdust. Those are just the elements that make up a circus. But what a circus is, what The Greatest Show on Earth really was, was another type of freedom, similar to that which Jack Sparrow mentions. The freedom to see the world, to become acquainted with the unfamiliar. The freedom to let go of one’s every-day cares and permit oneself to be amazed at the illusion and the grandeur of the spectacle. The freedom to revel in the intimacy that arises when a mass of humanity enjoys something together. A mini-example of such a thing as the circus occurred in the L.A. Memorial Coliseum last night, and it was glorious.