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| The artist and his muse |
One of America's great contributions to the world of cinema came into the world 67 years ago today, and in many ways, he has been as influential in shaping my appreciation of the movies as anyone this side of Griffith and Gish. Working with the extended repertory company he recruited in the back alleys of his native Baltimore, John Waters made stars in much the way of the classic studios: by finding extreme types and then figuring out what really made them shine. From Divine to Patty Hearst, he has given birth to some truly landmark performances: Edith Massey as the Egg Lady, Kathleen Turner as serial-killing sweetheart Beverly Sutphin, Johnny Depp as teen reprobate Cry Baby. His very personal vision of cinematic glamour - equal parts pinup and puke, as it were - has proven amazingly durable, and while these days he's as much a writer and personality as director, he remains a consistently, even reassuringly, contrary voice of reason, sanity, and, of course, Bad Taste - of the highest order.
It's quite a day, for one could assemble a perfectly workable Dreamland cast just out of some of Waters's fellow celebrants - imagine the script he could craft around a roster consisting of Charlotte Rae, Glen Campbell, Jack Nicholson, Marilyn Chambers, and Sherri Shepherd, with a very special cameo by Bettie Page. Throw in a couple of the regulars like Mink Stole and Mary Vivian Pearce, and he'd be all set.
In the absence of such a doubtless celluloid atrocity/triumph, I guess we'll have to make do with our well-thumbed DVD of Female Trouble, to me the film that most closely guarantees Waters a kind of cinematic immortality. It's smoother than Pink Flamingos, a shade less full of shock-for-shock's-sake than Desperate Living, and even after all these years as serious a look as can be imagined at how show business and the mania for celebrity can warp minds and lives. The Midnight Movie might have gone the way of the dodo, but it's nice to know that Waters is still with us, keeping a jaundiced yet boundlessly appreciative eye on the foibles and messes of the world and prescribing for the least sign of boredom a little discreet mayhem.
Given the goings-on that he's depicted at at least one birthday party, though, I think a little e-appreciation like this is just about as far, at the moment, as I'm willing to go.
He lives just down the road. I haven't found the house. But I will.
ReplyDeleteHe's also a regular sighting in Provincetown in the summertime - dear Sister has chatted with him several times, but I've never had the nerve...
DeleteImagine what he would have made of others born on this day? - the combination of Lenin, Kathleen Ferrier, Yehudi Menhuin and Charlie Mingus, for example... Jx
ReplyDeleteAs long as we can keep Charlotte Rae in the mix, I think it could work brilliantly.
DeleteShe seems to have been in everything else, by the looks of her Wikipedia entry... Jx
DeleteI just checked that out myself - she has been busy! Well, I guess a gal's gotta work...
DeleteMy friends and I found ourselves hanging with Charlotte and her sister (in from Texas) after a performance of Pippin at the Paper Mill Playhouse in 2000. She was a game and funny Berthe in the can't-miss "No Time At All" number. Ran into her later that month at a bar in the NY theater district, then a week or so later outside a theatre. Four years later I saw her at the Irish Rep production of Finian's Rainbow. She at least claimed to remember me, bless her, and then introduced me to her seat mate Lynn, composer Burton Lane's widow, as if we were old chums.
DeleteShe's a tiny little ball of fire and spunk.
I read, "The Midnight Movie might have gone the way of the dodo..." as doo-doo. In this case, I suppose it was a completely appropriate error.
ReplyDeleteOh, Bill, you don't hang out here nearly enough...
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