Respect the Sign (to love or hate a clown)

To love or hate a clown is a given in our culture. They intend to produce laughter, rudimentary sleights of hand, and other merriment. But the clown has an ambiguous history.

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I have heard, courtesy of old teacher of mine, that clowns date back to Roman times, and that their then-purpose was to smash the heads of almost-dead gladiators with mallets. He was, I think, being fanciful or lying.

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I suppose their equal parts delight and fright may have something to do with the theatrical donning of make-up for tragic roles, as with the film adaptation of Hugo's The Man Who Laughs, whose protagonist with a permanent smile did more than a little to inspire the villain we know as the Joker.

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Do I have to mention Pennywise, and the portrayal of him/it by Tim Curry (which has rightfully obtained cult status)?

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The more I think it over, the more I believe that clowns and clown-dom frighten people because to look at a clown is to look at a man or woman--be he/she wrinkled, stubbled, or with bags around his/her eyes--who attempts to assume an identity that is a physical charicature. We watch one attempt to be a living cartoon, attempt to transform his/her face, with all of its detailed features, into something as iconic and endearing as Mickey Mouse ... and the juxtaposition of the real and iconic cannot help but be a little bit disturbing.

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If the clown celebrates, in some fashion, the insane and irrational (as many other types of performers and artists do), then perhaps those who perform as clowns frighten people because when enacting this celebration--however innocently--they obscure our ability to discern whether the performer is assuming an identity which enables the irrational (i.e. our laughter), or if they are in fact irrationality manifested (insane for real). The Joker is again a handy cornerstone to this line of thought: he is Batman's arch rival because he is the most extreme expression/embodiment of what the clown is supposed to provide in small doses.