Female Trouble (or: I wouldn't suck your lousy dick if I was suffocating and there was oxygen in your balls).

I want to begin with like superlative adjectives and profuse admiration in regards to Waters' film Female Trouble, and all the words that come to my mind are tied directly to my personal response of having seen the film. But I don't really know what purpose comments like that serve. You'd then know that I really liked the movie, but you wouldn't know anything about the movie. I'm compelled to include this as an opening, but I don't know why. Sometimes you gush. Sometimes I gush. Why not gush?

What am I gushing over? What takes place in Female Trouble? Roughly what happens is a scene is lit, the actors are placed, either dialogue is recited or music is played over a montage, and then something sexual, violent, outrageous, hilarious, unnerving, disgusting, imaginative, or arousing occurs. Usually all together, in harmony, without a discordant element. There's special effects sometimes, for example in one instance one actors fucks oneself and eats out one's own genitals. The actor self-impregnates in said scene, and this is kind of the launching point for the story, except maybe the pivotal moment was a scene earlier, in which the actor was not given the expected Christmas present of cha-cha heels. That is a crucial moment in Female Trouble as well.

Am I describing the film now? What would it be like to discuss Female Trouble? To me, describing the film would also be convincing you that Waters crafted an entirely effective, provocative, and enjoyable film. But then, I'm the kind of guy who, if on the other end, would be interested if told only "Acid disfiguration leads to a reversal of bandage-removal expectations." In Waters' films beauty and ugliness co-exist, as do high and low art, etc...these are things discussed frequently when Waters comes up I'm sure, but does the film community really talk about the emotional and narrative level of achievement he sometimes reaches?

I almost wish a stopper could be placed on certain genres at certain points. You know how one great film comes out and then there's a mess of derivative films that follow and try repeating the success of the great film, which itself was probably the final statement in a a long, century spanning filmic discussion, as in the great film probably had its own influences which it was quite similar to, and so it feels like for every one great movie there has to be fifty or so movies similar to that one? I get tired of that shit. And for example I wish they'd stop the production of crude comedies. If you can't top Waters - and how you are going to top Waters I don't know - stop it. Let the theaters play his movies all the time. That's fine, I'll go.

The complete honesty and transparency of Female Trouble is a large part of the appeal. There's a courage to it, in exposing your sickness, depravity, and humor in this way, without apology, concession, or reserve. In some films there's a dimension of hidden-access, for example the film will be about exposing the double-life of someone, or it will be about an untold secret, etc, and I like those films. A Waters film feels like a journey solely into that dark space, without anyone following, and it feels like you can observe and experience horrible and terrific things without trepidation or self-consciousness. It's why the cult of Waters makes total sense, because who the hell wouldn't be allowed into that cult? What would you have to do to be rejected from the kingdom of the outcasts?

What I'm saying is Waters' form of comedy hasn't gotten better, cruder, more inventive or more engaging since Female Trouble. Waters came and made his films and then Hollywood continued on exactly the same path and it seems like progress has slowly been made, for example I really enjoyed The Hangover, but it seems like that progress is leading back to Waters. They should open Pink Flamingos tomorrow, all the across the country, in all the multiplexes, and travel again through his whole career.

That's a pretty elaborate gush I know. What can I say, except that I am deeply moved by the attempts of a repulsive rotten toothed mother, who tries her best to convince her son that he is gay, but fails, and then when the son is fired from his job at the beauty parlor he leaves Baltimore for the great dream of Detroit and work in the auto industry. What can I say but that, what do I need to say?

"Dawn Davenport's stage performance is based upon an act performed by Divine at San Francisco's Palace Theatre. Divine would wheel a shopping cart full of mackerel on stage and hurl them into the audience while claiming responsibility for various high-profile crimes (IMDb)."