Welcome back for a filthy, but strangely heartfelt installment of 52 Pick-Up.
Well, I knew this day was coming. Now that it's here, it's strange to accept.
This week marks the final entry in the series Uncharted Waters. With this, I can now say I have seen every feature length movie directed by John Waters (to date, fingers crossed.) It's been a weird, wild, often fun, often filthy journey to this point.
Following the arc that has been going over the last few entries in this particular series, Pecker feels like a suitable choice to go out on.
So, the pitch -
The movie concerns Pecker (Edward Furlong) an aspiring shutterbug with a beat up old camera who, when he's not working at a local sandwich shop, is affectionately documenting the lives and eccentricities of his friends and neighbors. His work he proudly features in impromptu shows at his job where the locals are supportive but they seldom sell. Then, by chance, his work catches the eye of a New York art dealer (Lili Taylor.) Suddenly, Pecker finds himself the talk of the New York art scene and an overnight sensation. It's a nice time at first.
At first.
Movies like this are always a fun side of the Waters filmography. Often, when people think of John Waters, thoughts immediately go to the transgressive nature of a lot of his movies. The man named 'the Pope of Trash' evokes images of his constant impish energy and how it played into movies like Pink Flamingos that were designed to shock as much as entertain. Those movies are fun. VERY fun, in fact. But it's also movies like this that remind part of why his films work is because along with the filth, Waters is a filmmaker with a lot of heart. Sometimes it's pretty apparent, such as in movies like this and Hairspray. It does also find ways into some of his other films as well, often in his tendency to sympathize with the outsiders and the weirdos that most other filmmakers wouldn't quite be able to crack. Polyester, for example, works as well as it does in part for the work that both Waters and Divine do in making Francine both a classic Waters over-the-top character but not a broad cartoon. Even as she has a full blown comedic breakdown and bender, the audience has a degree of sympathy for her and want to see her get that happy ending.
Pecker, as I said above, is definitely in this vein. Not just the character of Pecker, but the world he lives in. The movie's opening, where we're introduced to Pecker and the people who make up his world and his art has a genuine sense of affection for everyone featured. Whether it's Pecker's Memama (Jean Schertler, equal parts sweet and funny) and her talking Virgin Mary, his older sister (Martha Plimpton) who emcees at a gay strip club with the kind of love for her job many would kill for, or his younger sister (a hilarious Lauren Hulsey) whose love of sugar borders on pathology, everyone in Pecker's orbit lives a strange life and they love living it. By extension, we can see Pecker's love for all of these people in how he interacts with them and presents them in his art. The larger world, as we see, looks down on these people, and sees Pecker's work as a sort of sideshow appeal/poverty porn in a way the movie has already established he doesn't.
Which brings up the other interesting part of closing the run with this movie – in the larger cinematic work of John Waters, Pecker might be one of his most personal movies. It's certainly not a 1:1 in any sense of the word, but it's hard not to look at Pecker's love for the shaggy, weird world of his Baltimore neighborhood and not see a lot of the genuine affection Waters has for the world he came from. Even when Pecker is getting pictures of things like, say, a stripper's pubic hair, or a strip club patron's experience being easily teabagged, there is nothing of a sense of leering or acting like he's above what he's documenting. For Pecker, this is life in his neighborhood and he's happy to share it with the world. To paraphrase the words of his girlfriend early on (Christina Ricci) – Pecker sees the beauty in everything. It even leads to a moment that is equal parts sweet and funny as he helps her to see the beauty in the seemingly mundane discussing the stains she deals with in her laundromat job. It's the kind of moment that could, in another person's hands, be cloyingly sweet of overly twee. In Waters's hands, it becomes an escalation of the different kinds of filth and all the ways one can see something artistic in it. It's a challenging needle to thread and he finds a way to do it.
I know this isn't the last movie in Waters's filmography, with Cecil B. Demented and A Dirty Shame made after it. Despite that, this feels like a nice note to close out on for what it says for Waters as a filmmaker – this is a man who, over the course of several decades, has stayed true to his own unique vision and voice, not just in his films, but also in his writing and spoken word appearances. The end of this movie seeming to assure you might be able to take the artist out of the weird side of Baltimore, but you'll never take that Baltimore out of the artist. It doesn't have the same almost defiant tone of the movies that came after, but in turn, it seems to be saying 'This is who I am and this is who I'm always gonna be.'
So, again, actually a great heartfelt note to end the series on.
Normally, this is where I'd be setting up next week's movie. But I'm gonna have to stop things for a minute first.
As this marks the end of a dive into all of John Waters's directorial effort – and because I have been picking at this for a while now, let's close out with something I haven't done here since the Hellraiser run a few years back.
That's right – time for a John Waters ranking.
Goes without saying, these are all just personal opinion and take as such. Strictly speaking, even being lower down on this list isn't automatically a bad thing. Even a lesser John Waters movie is still a good time.
So, without further ado, I give you, the Dirty Dozen
Female Trouble – The champion remains undefeated. There is something about this one that just hits a perfect sweet spot for me. It's not like it's completely isolated in terms of Waters's work, given it plays into his fascinations with moral panic and true crime (he was into it before it was cool) and by extension the idea of crime as a form of celebrity, but the particular balance here is incredibly entertaining to me. At the center, Divine is sporting the same 'force of nature' energy she had honed over Multiple Maniacs and Pink Flamingos to deliver a delightfully insane turn as Dawn Davenport, a thief and a shit-kicker who'd like to be famous.
Serial Mom – Over a decade later, Waters came back to his exploration of the 'criminal as celebrity' idea. This time, however, the bloodshed is coming not in the form of your classic 'good girl gone wrong' but instead in the form of the model of modern suburbia (embodied in a show-stopping Kathleen Turner, dispatching her victims with just the right level of moderated enjoyment.) The change in venue, as well as the new figure at the center, feels even more prescient now watched in the light of the past decade's love with the true crime industry.
Cecil B. Demented – Speaking of Waters's cinematic prescience, hot damn, did he wind up calling Hollywood's shot here. Watching this for the first time during this project, I was reminded of the story from a few years back where the writers of Veep said they decided to end their show early because reality was getting too absurd for them to keep up with. Seeing Cecil and his merry band of Sprocket Holes declare war on what was, at the time, seen as a comedic exaggeration of the risk-averse, creatively bankrupt Hollywood machine, it's hard not to notice how several of the things called out in this movie only got worse after he made it. Of course, even without that prescience, the end result is still a very fun middle finger to the industry as delivered with full zeal by Stephen Dorff and Melanie Griffith.
Polyester – This was among my first Waters, and damn if it doesn't still hold up. I know I had already spoken about this some years back, but it bears repeating – I was sold this as 'John Waters does Douglas Sirk' and I think one of the most entertaining parts for me was just how much Waters understood the assignment while also making it his own thing. A wonderfully insane take on a melodrama with arguably one of Divine's best performances: the unique challenge of playing the one 'sane' person in a John Waters movie where everyone else is swinging for full tilt crazy.
Pink Flamingos – The audacity. The sheer bugfuck crazy audacity. There's a lot of films that get the reputation talked up to such a degree that the finished product feels like it fails to live up to the hype. Pink Flamingos arguably might be one of the few that can match the buzz.
Pecker – See my comments above. A lot of Waters films have heart, but few really get to put it front and center like this. It speaks to his skills that he can balance that heart with raunch and not have the film feel uneven when it all settles.
Hairspray – Again, when Waters wants heart, he can do it. In this case, it doesn't get quite as raunchy as Pecker, but it makes up for it with Waters's stylistic sensibilities and his penchant for championing the outsider in his own way.
A Dirty Shame – I feel bad putting this this low because I repeat what I said – Tracey Ullman and Johnny Knoxville are both doing phenomenal work here. Unfortunately the finished movie doesn't really quite work despite their best efforts. Still makes for an interesting (currently) closing statement for Waters at least – filth never dies, it just gets more creative.
Desperate Living – On the one hand, the full movie is kind of uneven, with some fun characters doing the best they can with a plot that gets lost in itself more than it should. On the other, Goddamn, that is a GREAT opening sequence and quite possibly Mink Stole's finest hour as a Dreamlander.
Multiple Maniacs – Once again, I'm gonna pull from the writeup I did on this a few months back – Multiple Maniacs walked so Pink Flamingos and Female Trouble could charge forward like an unhinged extra from Weapons.
Cry-Baby – The movie isn't without its charms. Waters has a fun sense for the 50s style and he has a likable, charming cast in his arsenal. Having said that, I also have a hard time looking past the fact this is a movie musical where, with the exception of Please, Mr. Jailer, most of the songs are pretty forgettable.
Mondo Trasho – I'd still say this is worth watching at least once for its role as the first John Waters feature. It will probably never get an official release, but luckily it enjoys a healthy life on the bootleg circuit. Has its moments, but it really feels uneven compared to Waters's next effort in Multiple Maniacs.
Holy crap. You guys are still here.
Well, that makes a wrap on John Waters (for now, fingers crossed) but 52 Pick Up keeps dealing out movies as I roll into August.
With that said, next month is coming in in style – I'm kicking off August with Velvet Goldmine.
Till then.
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