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By Andrea Thompson
Are the filmmakers behind “Circus of Books” here to give us what we need or what we want? Well, it depends on your definition of both. Subversive is an overused term, but part of what makes the Netflix documentary so damn enjoyable isn't just how it does indeed subvert our expectations, but how much sheer delight director Rachel Mason takes in it.
Not all of the enjoyment is intentional; certain family dynamics can only come through lived experience. Objectivity has been dead for a while, but it was still an incredibly wise decision on Mason's part not to distance herself from the fact that she's making a movie about her own family. “Circus of Books” is and remains a family affair, and Mason allows those aforementioned family dynamics to shine as she makes an incredibly personal vision of her own, often while examining how the term family itself was hijacked in the name of conservatism. Or more accurately, a conservative crusade that would only accept one definition of family and sought to remake the world in that image.
Karen and Barry Mason violated that definition by the nature of their work, even as they upheld the image of a close-knit, conventional life in the midst of secular, liberal West Hollywood. They were careful to keep their work life hidden, not just from their children, but everyone. This commitment to secrecy was so extensive that when Karen asks them to explain what their store, the titular Circus of Books, actually was, Karen and Barry look at each other in that uncomfortable way parents often do whenever they're forced to discuss anything related to sex. And why not? The store that they ran didn't just sell sex, it sold porn, and was actually the largest distributor of gay porn in the United States.
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Their paranoia was probably justified. The word porn alone is enough to send people scrambling for their pearls even today, but adding the word gay most likely would have sent the Masons' neighbors screaming in the other direction back in the 70s and 80s, and most likely well into the 90s, since Karen and Barry ran the store together for about 30 years. As magazine publisher Billy Miller puts it in the film, “To be a homo was unspeakable, basically.” In such a time, when even mentioning homosexuality was considered disgusting, the Circus of Books was a safe place, the center of the gay universe, where the men (and this was very much a business that catered to male tastes) could see other gay men “naked and unafraid,” and feel free to openly connect with each other. In some cases, they were very open, with the alley behind the store quickly becoming known as Vaseline Alley.
So how did a nice Jewish couple who regularly went to synagogue get into this? Like some of the best things start, mostly by accident. They needed to order a living, saw an ad in the paper from Hustlers publisher Larry Flynt, who was looking for magazine distributors, and jumped on it. From day one, the cash started flowing in, and the two quickly set up the business that would end up sending their kids to college. It was also a life that was strictly segregated, even from themselves, since Barry and Karen apparently never even watched the videos they sold, and in some cases, made themselves, albeit through others. To them it was a job, and to this day their employees speak highly of their honesty and trustworthiness, very rare qualities in themselves, but all the more so in the adult industry.
Even if “Circus of Books” doesn't directly address it, the Masons became bigamists in a sense, with a newfound family on the side as well, even if it was more of a response to the devastation of the AIDS epidemic. The Masons were often a source of support, even acting as surrogate parents in cases where biological parents refused to visit their dying child. Such attitudes didn't have to look too far for justification, given that it was upheld in the highest levels of government. Rather that funding treatments, the Reagan administration threw its money into a task force dedicated to arresting those who sold explicit materials. That the Masons would be swept up in it was feasible, and soon became a reality when Barry was arrested and charged. But the culture of silence and shame remained strong, with even the couple's children remaining ignorant of their father's imprisonment. Things only resolved happily because Clinton was elected, and suddenly, not only were the prosecutors switched, there were a whole new set of priorities that didn't involve controlling people's viewing and sexual habits.
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In the end, it wasn't their business that did the most damage to the family, but the culture of silence and shame they'd enabled. When Rachel's brother Josh came out as gay, Karen was so unprepared she initially believed god was punishing her for her work, and had to come to terms with what she'd absorbed from her conservative upbringing. Even if she worked with and was fine gay people, she felt the need to justify what she did as being for her family, and that meant she was unprepared for anyone in it being gay. Her decision to make the commitment to not just examine her beliefs, but join PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) and become an activist are some of the most touching moments in the film, especially since older people are often depicted as frozen in time.
Karen embarking on a new stage in her life is also thoughtfully juxtaposed with the decision to finally close the store. The reasons why the business model it was based on is no longer economically feasible hardly need to be stated, but even if its heyday is long past, the lights going off for the last time at the Circus of Books feels like a tribute. The past may be gone, but everyone involved in the doc, whether behind the camera or in front, seems ready to embrace and ensure a future many wish to prevent.
