"How can anyone sit through the entire length of a film, especially a European film, without smoking??" Thus, John Waters, self-righteously breaking that invisible fourth wall, shoots his opening volley in a full frontal royal 'up yours' to the establishment and anyone else who cares to be watching. In Pink Flamingos he uses and abuses just about every taboo known to bourgeoise society in an, at times, puke-inducing tirade. Hermaphrodites, cross dressers, a man with a two-foot sausage penis extension, incest and white slavery - it's all here, so roll up, and come and get it.
Perhaps the most apt log line for this film would be "The battle for the title of 'Filthiest Person in the World' is on; dog shit eater Divine against the self-proclaimed 'filthiest couple in the world', the Marbles (had they lost them?), masters of going from one fuck to $5,000 in nine months (go figure)." As Divine declares, "Filth is my politics; filth is my life!"
More a series of vignettes than anything else, any attempt to encapsulate some sort of storyline is, in my opinion, rather pointless; anyone coming out of the movie will not be thinking about the great sense of closure they feel after it ends, but more about where the nearest vomit pit is. For the faint of stomach this is not, and beyond a middle finger to the "more crime-conscious areas of the city," there seems to be little point to this film. But don't take that as a negative - I laughed my head off.
ein hod posted a video - ein hod posted a video ein hod , simon borst 2010 ""
2 weeks ago