Continuing our series of writers recommending under-seen films is a call to seek out a compelling documentary about a one-of-a-kind provocateur The first time I saw John Waters’ film Pink Flamingos – starring Divine as the “filthiest person alive” – I thought two things: I am not alone. And everything I ever wanted to say has now been said.The image of Divine – a walking, talking assault on every conventional standard of gender, taste, weight and sanity – gobsmacked the then 17-year-old me. As a teen who was busy basing his entire identity on embracing all forms of subversive art, I knew that Divine and Pink Flamingos had gone as far as anything, or anyone, could go. Murder, incest, cannibalism, a “singing anus” – and, of course, Divine scarfing down a freshly produced dog turd – my God, this film had it all. Amazingly, that level of willful depravity, fever-dreamed in the 70s, has never been topped, all these decades down the line. Continue reading…
Continuing our series of writers recommending under-seen films is a call to seek out a compelling documentary about a one-of-a-kind provocateur
The first time I saw John Waters’ film Pink Flamingos – starring Divine as the “filthiest person alive” – I thought two things: I am not alone. And everything I ever wanted to say has now been said.
The image of Divine – a walking, talking assault on every conventional standard of gender, taste, weight and sanity – gobsmacked the then 17-year-old me. As a teen who was busy basing his entire identity on embracing all forms of subversive art, I knew that Divine and Pink Flamingos had gone as far as anything, or anyone, could go. Murder, incest, cannibalism, a “singing anus” – and, of course, Divine scarfing down a freshly produced dog turd – my God, this film had it all. Amazingly, that level of willful depravity, fever-dreamed in the 70s, has never been topped, all these decades down the line.