Pink Flamingos

I first saw Pink Flamingos in the mid 70's, back before VCRs. A college dorm had rented a print, and in a drunken state I've not achieved again this past quarter-century, I went to see it. Having finally seen it again only recently, this time sober, I'm here to tell you... it looks a hell of a lot better when you're drunk. Those who call it "great" or a "masterpiece" are plain wrong, they don't recognize what they are seeing. The camera work is a hair's breadth above home movies; the acting and story are... well, they are better than in porn flicks and even some straight-to-video movies, but, jeez, not by much. And then there is the primary purpose behind Pink Flamingos -- to make the most disgusting, revolting movie possible, perhaps even conceivable.

But... BUT... Pink Flamingos is distinctive. Even if you - yes YOU out there - the reader, wanted to make the most disgusting movie in the world and even if you had the money and the skills that John Waters lacked in 1972, you couldn't make a film as good as he did. Yes, GOOD! You couldn't because, first of all, I doubt you have the same quality of acquaintances that Waters had and put into into his early movies. And it's not just a matter of WHAT they will do, but HOW they do it. Waters' actors had a style, no matter how bizarre, that is rarer than most depravities. Could YOU recognize the virtues of, let alone even find, someone like Edith Massey? I doubt it. Which leads to the second point.

Pink Flamingos has panache! It has a free-wheeling sense of daring-do that borders on innocent fun. So, although the movie is so disgusting that I wish it had never been made, it is not a squalid film. And I don't think YOU, the reader, or anyone other than Waters could have pulled that off. It doesn't make Pink Flamingos a masterpiece. It does make it unlike any other film.

On the surface "Pink Flamingos" could easily be dismissed as a nostalgic piece of shock cinema. With an unparalleled level of notoriety -- based almost entirely on the final scene, the film has become a curiosity of sorts and a right of passage for those testing their own boundaries of decency. Beneath this seedy exterior however, lies a brilliant and biting satire of society's obsession with fame and the lengths one will go to in order to achieve it. This theme is relevant even more so today than it ever was. Just consider the over abundance of reality TV shows, for example 'Fear Factor' – a show boasting contestants eager and willing to outdo one another by performing a variety of dangerous stunts and eating unimaginable specimens – how is this any different than the characters in 'Pink Flamingos' attempting to outdo one another in an effort to claim the dubious title of the filthiest people alive? Society is (and has always been) captivated with sensationalism; from the Roman era and the coliseum packed with bloodthirsty audiences, to modern day and the likes of the 'Jerry Springer Show' (of which Babs Johnson and the Marbles would make excellent guests!!). The purpose of "Pink Flamingos" is to not only put a hilariously depraved spin on the fascination with celebrity but to also provide a cautionary tone to the dissolution of society itself. The performances are all top-notch; especially the ever-dependable and over-the-top Mink Stole, as heartless Connie Marble; and scene stealing Edith Massey, as Edie 'The Egg Lady'. It's amazing that the film is over thirty-years old because the message is just as fresh today as it was back in 1972.

This is, without a doubt, the most disgusting, most vile thing I have ever seen. I thought I had a very strong stomach. Oh, dear Lord, I have never felt so violated in my entire life. By the film getting ONLY an NC-17 rating, John Waters got off so easily! The very last scene, with the dog, is the most vomit-inducing scene I have ever seen. I don't know if I like it or not. I just know that I would think long and hard about seeing this movie again.

If one were to ask what examples of just how far cinema can go in exploiting bad taste and abjection in art, look no further than John Waters' breakout indie film Pink Flamingos. Initially released in 1972 to shocking responses, the film was an instant underground hit amidst the midnight movie craze and the post Stonewall queer movement, and has now been deemed culturally and historically significant by the National Film Registry. Often regarded as an exercise in poor taste, this could honestly be one of the hardest movies to sit through out there, and yet that's what makes it as fascinating to watch as it is to cringe at.

The film focuses on the countercultural drag queen Divine, a.k.a. "the filthiest person alive", living in a trailer with her oddball family, who ends up chasing after the criminal couple Raymond and Connie Marble who are set out to outdo her in filth. Perhaps filth is a little too subtle of a word to describe these characters, as the intense amount of crude activities they all engage in are endlessly vulgar and obscene. As the basic plot of the feature focuses on a rival band of criminals battling against each other to see who the filthiest one of all is, it should go without saying that nothing shown on screen is off limits as far as what will horrify and disgust you. That being said, there is something wildly endearing about how surprisingly earnest this film is in depicting the absurdities and harsh realities of low lives that are already ostracized by society to begin with. When one takes into account how important this film would become to punk culture and LGBTQ voices rarely being heard, Waters was quite brave in subverting what was more commonplace in the mainstream, even by the time the MPAA was set in stone.

As this was a ridiculously low budget production, seeing said bravery in putting this film together can be seen across the locations. The film itself was shot in the vicinity of Baltimore, Maryland, where Waters and most of the cast and crew grew up, in addition to Divine's trailer home taking place in Phoenix, Maryland. From nearly every frame, one can see so much culture around older school Baltimore when the countercultural revolution was taking place, complete with the gawdy costumes and radical makeup. So much personality is bursting off the screen, including from Divine herself, who is just having a ball chewing the scenery while still showing some signs of humanity around such obscene situations. In fact, much of the cast appear to be embracing the freedom to act however they please, all while unapologetically grossing each other out. Finally, the nostalgic soundtrack adds some needed fun to the otherwise stomach-turning content, showcasing Waters personal enjoyment of late 50s / early 60s rock & roll. Sometimes, you need throwbacks to classic dance tunes to cure the senses.

After more than 50 years since its release, Pink Flamingos holds up as simultaneously one of the most wretchedly unwatchable schlockfests in cinema and one of the most successfully trashy triumphs of shock filmmaking. Anyone wanting to see this film should enter at their own risk and should not be surprised if they come out hating it, as it does its job of going against the norm to completely desensitize us from all the horrible things we know and beyond. It may be banned in some countries for good reason, but its impact on counterculturalism and queer filmmaking remains a testament to all who see it.

The Divine and Doggie bit at the end is a bit much for me; I have to turn away. But a lot of it's pretty hysterical -- and it obviously works since folks are complaining why anyone would make a movie like this.

The answer, of course, is: to annoy folks who would complain why anyone would make a movie like this.

Don't be fooled by those who would have you believe that there's some deep meaning in, or mark of genius on, this film. There isn't. There is, though, a kind of bizarre, kinetic and desperate energy to this nonsensical enterprise.

I didn't hate it. There, that's my review: I didn't hate it.

I tend to agree with Ebert in this regard: this film is an object. It simply "is," and no amount of explaining will settle your nerves after you've seen it, nor convince you to see it in the first place.