When I was a young lad, I had an over abiding obsession with movies. Not that anything has really changed, mind you. Since my dad was a movie reviewer for a local TV station, we went to see almost everything that came to town as part of our weekend visits, but I really liked horror movies the most. So one day he gave me an issue of American Film which had an article in it, "Whatever Happened to Showmanship?" which lamented the lack of theatricality in selling movies to the public and which focused on one of the masters of ballyhoo, William Castle. Now, this is some neat stuff to learn about when you are 16 years old. Of course, I had seen a bunch of Castle's films already such as 13 Ghosts or The Tingler. Yet, here was an article which pulled back the curtain just a bit and showed a whole new carnival atmosphere. Plus, the author went on the talk about a variety of grindhouse/art films like Crippled Masters and Warhol's 3D sex movies. A door has been opened and new horizons beckoned on the other side.
Just as important as what was being written about was who was doing the writing: John Waters. Now at this point I admit my story gets a bit fuzzy in discovering more about him. I think the first film I watched of his was probably a year or two later when I went over to a girlfriend's house to watch either Desperate Living or Polyester. And I know that I read more of his writing in future issues of American Film and saw him on late night TV talk shows. Really, what can be said about Waters other than he was a incredible independent filmmaker who was equally interested in pushing the limits of good taste and extolling the virtues of fringe culture.
Recently, Waters has published a new book, Role Models, expressing his peculiar view of the world around him. There are a number of offbeat topics in it which are interesting and conform to the accepted stereotype of John Waters such as "Outsider Porn" where we meet two edgy gay pornographers. Or "The Kindness of Strangers" which is about Tennessee Williams and the influence he had on the author. Or the obsession he has for Johnny Mathis which is the lead off piece in the book entitled "Johnny and Me".
But what is most striking is the subtle changes in John Waters as an outre human. Earlier in his life, he bragged about having a John Wayne Gacy painting. He also boasted about all the high profile trials he has attended for Patty Hearst (who now has bit parts in his films) and the Manson family. He claims in Shock Value (1981) that the Tate/LoBianca murders were the crime of the century, but he approaches it back then like a subversive theater act. Now, in Role Models (2010), he goes on at length about the friendship he has developed with on of the former Manson family members, Leslie Van Houten and how she has been denied parole over the years. You know, he might have a case as he presents it, but I'm dumbfounded by the seriousness of the piece. It is a tone which which he strikes a few times, as if he has suddenly realized the impact of some of this earlier outrageousness.
Later, in "Baltimore Heroes", we are told of a lesbian stripper and a female barkeep who would only serve the homeless. Ok, this feels like Waters territory now, you are thinking, and you are right to a point. We never get to meet this people because they are already dead. Waters is dealing with them through his own recollections and through the memories of their children. That is the crucial turn. How were these people affected by the environments in which they grew up. While they all seem to have come through OK, you can't help but ponder the instability in which they were fostered.
Even when Waters begins to talk more about culture, we are presented with a more gentrified version of the hipster salvage store concept we had known to grow and love. Talking about fashion, we meet Rei Kawakubo, an extremist designer who builds clothes with flaws in them. But sells them for thousands of dollars. This ain't no dig store where you crawl around on the ground looking for treasures! And even the art work has progressed beyond serial killers and pornography. Now we have "Roommates" like Cy Twombly, Fischli/Weiss, and Moyra Davey. Hmmm. Interesting stuff, but hardly shocking. On a side note, isn't it interesting how some famous people collect art? Dennis Hopper had a renowned collection. Vincent Price used to give talks on art. Even Steve Martin has raised his nose high and proclaimed that even a jerk can like art. Too much money? Giving back to the little people? A true appreciation for craft?
In the end, Role Models is not the same John Waters we fell in love with thirty years ago, nor should he be. Mellowed like a good wine. Yet, when what you expect is a spicy complexity which sometimes ends in sharp gag reflex, this is a bit too dry and one note. Or has the rest of the world just caught up to him?
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