John Waters: The Pope of Trash
The year was 1972. The University of Baltimore held its third annual film festival. Beatnik fans of the underground, the strange and bizarre, piled into the campus’ theater. For three consecutive nights, every seat in the house was filled — all to see what had been described as “an exercise in poor taste” known simply as Pink Flamingos.
Audience members were taken aback at what they were shown. Images of drag queens wielding revolvers, a flasher who gets his just desserts, cannibalism, and mother-son incest would forever be burned into their minds for life. All capping it off, a 300-pound drag queen ate real dog feces on camera in one stomach-turning take for authenticity. And yet, the people still came through, day after day to see what the hell everyone was raving about at the film festival.
At the center of all this chaos lies a single man, unkempt, unshowered, proudly brandishing a soon-to-be iconic pencil thin mustache. The world of underground and cult cinema would be quick to learn his name: John Waters.
John had been making the rounds in the local Baltimore filmmaking scene for about a decade prior at this point, but it wasn’t until Pink Flamingos that he started to gain serious notoriety outside of his small bubble of freaks, rejects, hippies, and weirdos. The film went on to become a staple of the ’70s Midnight Movie scene, joining the likes of Jodorowsky’s El Topo, Sharman’s Rocky Horror Picture Show, and Lynch’s Eraserhead.
Despite being a hit among this crowd, the film managed to get itself banned in several countries, only fueling the clandestine flames even more. Once the ’80s hit, multiple home video releases started to trickle their way into these places where the film was once barred from viewing.
While the public was completely blindsided by this release, the film was only the most recent effort of The Dreamlanders, Waters’ tight-knit crew of misfit actors, makeup artists, and set designers that he continued to work with throughout his entire career. As his career grew, The Dreamlanders were still at the core of every single one of his productions, from Multiple Maniacs all the way to Cecil B. Demented.
What John Waters and company attempted to do with Pink Flamingos was, in part, to shock people. However, the real goal set in mind amongst the crew was to gain some sort of notoriety in their obscenity. The funniest part about the whole thing? It actually worked.
John continued to make his bizarre movies all through the ’70s and ’80s, eventually hitting the mainstream with his truly breakout film, Hairspray. From then on, he became cemented in cinema history as one of the greats, with several pieces in the MoMA and multiple entries into the Criterion Collection. All the while, he made some of the crudest and rough-around-the-edges films I’ve personally ever seen. Nobody else can shoot a scene that will legitimately make you want to look away from the screen like John Waters does.
What I’ve always appreciated about John is his full belief and acceptance in being himself and taking no substitutes. It blows my mind to this day to think that as a gay teenager in the ’60s, he was fully writing, editing, and directing multiple features in the middle of nowhere of Maryland. He has transformed his whole persona into the understanding and enjoyment of what he calls “bad taste” and I couldn’t be more glad about that fact.
We need more filmmakers like John Waters — those who are unafraid to put their vision on the screen, no matter how depraved or disgusting it may be. If it wasn’t clear already, I highly recommend his films. My personal favorite is his immediate follow-up to Flamingos, Female Trouble. Long live the Pope of Trash, The Prince of Puke, the Duke of Dirt. Long live John Waters.
A version of this story is archived on CreatorCoffeeShop.com
