He is regarded as The Pope of Trash and now John Waters’ third feature film, unavailable for decades, has been “restored, remastered and re-vomited” by premium label The Criterion Collection, following a limited release in arthouse theatres.
Multiple Maniacs stars Waters’ merry band of misfits, including David Lochary, Mink Stole, Mary Vivian Pearce, and Edith Massey. Those who would appear in most of his subsequent films, and led by the Queen: Miss Lady Divine, who we first see lying naked on a chaise longue, her Rubenesque derrière framed and in close-up. She leads the sideshow of “freaks” within Lady Divine’s Cavalcade of Perversion, a travelling band of “real, actual filth”. There’s a naked human pyramid, bra fetishist, a women giving oral pleasure to a bicycle saddle, a Jonesing addict, “actual queers kissing” and a bonafide puke-eater.Of course this is all a ruse, a front to house psychotic kidnappers and murderers. The brains (and beauty) of the outfit is Lady Divine. She’s the leader, the matriarch, think Ma Barker by way of a transgressive Elizabeth Taylor, and will do right by her people if they do right by her. Woe betide anybody who, for example, cheats or betrays.
Shot on 16mm and made with a $5000 budget – via a loan by Waters’ father – Multiple Maniacs is deliberately offensive and grotesque. It has an advant garde sensibility, with low contrast grainy black and white film stock, which makes the sprawling chaos, horrible camerawork and zoom abuse more bearable. For all its gleeful delinquent subversion, it actually has a lot of charm. Sure, it glorifies carnage and wears its anti-establishment, anti-bourgeois respectability, and sacrilegious, cannabilistic heart on its sleeve but it does so with such veracity, it’s admirable. Disgusting and atrocious, it may be but it’s also hilarious.
Hippy values take a few knocks, there’s a definite anti-war vibe to the denouement but it celebrates art via the Warhol and Lichtenstein pictures on an interior wall, its Czech New Wave style, and even surrealism – it’s hard not to think of Dalí when Lobstora rears its rapey pincers. Nothing is sacred. Least of all Catholicism. There is religious iconography dotted amongst the mise-en-scène, and The Stations of the Cross is even recreated as Divine receives a seemingly never-ending “rosary job” from Mink Stole, in a Church pew. All to the strain of He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.
Waters and his maniacs deliver on the blackest of comedies. All dialogue is frantic, emphatic and, at times, stilted and a little repetitive but that’s the Waters way. He and his friends, some from childhood, some dropouts from NYU created a filmmaking family which celebrated difference, embraced outsiders and misfits, and forged an artistic front for freaks. Divine was the heartbeat; loud, brash, crude, angry and trashy. She didn’t give two flying kitten heels what people thought of her, she knew she was beautiful.
In the words of the great auteur himself (oh, he’d hate that): “To understand bad taste one must have very good taste. Good bad taste can be creatively nauseating but must, at the same time, appeal to the especially twisted sense of humor, which is anything but universal.” Multiple Maniacs is a transgressive, blasphemous, and iconic piece of celluloid. It won’t be for everyone, but for those of us with a wicked sense of humour and good bad taste, it will be a religious experience.
As with all Criterion releases, the disc additions are always a treat. Commentary is provided for by writer/director/cinematographer/cameraman/editor John Waters. Recorded in New York City in 2016, it is a joy and a recommended listen as it enhances the experience. He speaks of the filmmaking process, shooting on the lawn of his parents’ house and the intention behind the film and the amazing array of cast and characters he grew up with and worked along side.
Interviews (32 mins)
The remaining cast and crew members: Mink Stole, Pat Moran, Susan Lowe, George Figgs, Vincent Peranio give interviews (again recorded in 2016) about their memories of Multiple Maniacs and previous Waters collaborations; short Roman Candles (1966) and feature Mondo Trasho (1969). These are largely anecdotal and some are repeated in the Waters commentary but they all tell of their first meetings with John. Their friendships were forged on their differences, shared musical tastes, sniffing poppers, and gathered to rebel against the sadism and hypocrisy of the Catholic Church into which they were all raised. Peranio is the man responsible for Lobstora, it took him a week and a half to make and a total cost of $37! They all speak with affection for their dearly departed Divine, David, Cookie and Edie, and it’s a lovely, warm mini-tribute to filmmaking in a bygone era: “we were all crackpots”.
Stations of Filth (10 mins)
A video essay written and narrated by Gary Needham. Potentially described as the Scottish version of Mark Cousins, Needham’s essay is over-emphatic and does border on repetitive but is highly informative.
It’s the end, but the moment has been prepared for…
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