A classic of underground cinema that
lives up to and possibly even transcends its reputation, Pink Flamingos remains, even now 46 years after its release, a
movie that separates the men from the boys, the human beings from the
Republicans.
True, the movie is not as shocking now
as it was when it first came out — it is, as fiction, by nature less shocking
than the reality of the US's current innately corrupt political system and
collapsing society — but even the jaded might still feel an occasional pang of
shock when watching this movie. (The singing butthole usually gets most people,
not to mention the movie's infamous closing scene, done in an uncut take, of
Divine chowing down on doggy doo.) Laughs, in any event, are guaranteed... if
only nervous ones.
* Indeed, it is perhaps one of the
earliest example of the continual use of well-known and/or obscure pop songs to
underscore, often incongruently, diverse scenes the narrative, a filmic
technique that has become almost de jure
since, dunno, Reservoir Dogs (1992 /
trailer).
But this very exuberance, combined with the whole
film's in-your-face attitude and dedicated transgression of good taste, works
magic. Waters may have, in the meantime and after 12 different feature films in
total, directed better-made movies displaying consummate filmic
professionalism, but none of his later works carry the punch or have been as influential
as Pink Flamingos. It is, in its own
extremely idiosyncratic manner, a masterpiece of sorts. And imperative viewing
for anyone interested in underground film, exploitation movies, low culture,
black comedy, alternative culture(s), artistic expression, freedom of speech,
or chicken fucking.
Rest assured, however, when you screen
this healthy and hearty and enjoyable cinematic abortion, you do end up
watching a truly terribly made movie. The soundtrack might be top notch,* but
when it comes to the cinematic and/or technical qualities normally expected of
a feature film — editing, acting, cinematography, continuity, whatever — Pink Flamingos displays more exuberance
than any semblance of skill.
The basic plot
is simple: Divine and her criminal family — comprising Edie the Egg Lady (Edith
Massey [28 May 1918 – 24 Oct 1984]), Crackers (Danny Mills [Died 21 Jan 2017])
and companion Connie (Mary Vivian Pearce) — are laying low in a trailer out in
the country, but back in beautiful Baltimore Connie (Mink Stole)
and Raymond Marble have grown jealous of her reputation as "The Filthiest
Person Alive". They decide to destroy Divine and usurp her title... but
only live long enough to rue the day. Framed within that narrative are
characters deeply imbued in sleaze and fun pastimes like fucking, masturbation,
incest, rape, illegal baby selling, lesbianism, murder, cannibalism, egg
eating, cop killing, shopping, foot fetishism, butt singing and more. And a
great wardrobe: at least in the case of Divine, Crackers, Connie and the Marbles, all
would fit in perfectly in the nightlife of today's Berlin. (Though, in the case of
Raymond, the blue pubes that properly match the hair color on his head definitely
clash with his almost bear-like excess of body hair.)
Seen today, it
is surprising how easily Pink Flamingos
suddenly becomes a kind of allegorical mirror of the contemporary politics: If you see Babs as the Democrats, and the
Marbles as the Republicans, in the end they are all criminals and what they
"do" is different only in degrees. But Babs is a bit more social (as
seen by her extended family and B-day party popularity), while the Marbles are
bit more egoistic, consumer- and position-driven, and convinced of their own entitlement.
Also comparable to the US Republicans, aside from all their questionable business activities and the less-than-pious cravings for
social status, in the end the Marbles are extremely and illogically judgmental and conservative:
they are continually shocked by the actions of others, though no one does
anything all that much worse than what they themselves do. (One might argue
they don't even have the balls to do their own evil: yes, they sell the babies
of kidnapped girls they chain up and impregnate in the basement, but they have
to hire someone to do the actual rapes instead of having Raymond doing it himself.) And Raymond, for all his own sexual peccadilloes & perversions, even runs away
in pure horror after, having just exposed himself in public, he confronted by a
highly attractive chick with a dick (Elizabeth Coffey, who, in real life, had it taken off a
week later). Yep, the Marbles are very much conservatives of the contemporary rightwing
religious Trump Republican model: something — pussy-grabbing, underage sex, white
collar crime, affairs, cocksucking — is only disgusting or wrong if other
people do it.
Whatever. Pink Flamingos, "An Exercise in Poor Taste", lives up to
its infamy in a multiple of ways. A historical artifact of immense cultural
importance, this gleefully tasteless and oddly life-affirming cult film is
required viewing for culture vultures of all persuasions and political parties.
Watch it, now. And if you don't like it, well, go do what Divine does in the
final scene.
The Full Movie —
Armando Bo's Fuego (1969):
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