If asked to name the first thing to pop into your head when someone says “circus,” I expect a lot of people would instantly shout out “The Greatest Showman,” and for good reason. Leave your desire for historical accuracy on the bog-like field surrounding the cone-topped tent of wonder, and it’s almost impossible not to be taken in; enraptured by the musical’s lavish production, emotionally manipulative story, and catchy song and dance numbers. Even as a man who has shaped an entire career around being po-faced, certain scenes tug the heartstrings so well they could be used as a real-life Voight-Kampff test. But no. My mind doesn’t immediately leap, like a buoyant fawn, to The Greatest Showman. All I can think about is danger.
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