You probably wouldn't come to this conclusion by looking at it from a pedestrian point-of-view. However, if you were to say switch to a more cockeyed point-of-view, you would definitely agree with me when I say that John Waters' infamous Pink Flamingos is one of the sexiest movies of all-time. I know, how can a movie that features shit-eating, a chicken coop foursome, shrimping, singing assholes, blue-haired degenerates with pepperoni tied to their dicks and obese retarded women in playpens be considered one of the sexiest... Whoa! Would you listen to me, I'm starting to sound like a real square. Which is odd, because I'm the least square person I know. Sure, I don't drink, I don't do drugs, and I've never been to Flin Flon, but trust me, the thoughts rattling around in my head on a semi-regular basis are beyond debased. What I think I meant to say was: How can a movie that features shit-eating, a chicken coop foursome, shrimping, singing assholes, blue-haired degenerates with pepperoni tied to their dicks and obese retarded women in playpens not be considered one of the sexiest movie of all-time?
Oh, and when I say, "singing assholes," I'm not referring to, oh, let's say, the guy from Nickleback (I don't feel like looking up his name, but you know who I'm talking about - his first name is either Chad or Brad), I'm talking about an anus that sings... well, to be technical, it lip-synchs. Either way, Pink Flamingos is a non-stop cavalcade of crotch-based wetness from start to finish.
Think I'm joking? How else would you describe a movie that boasts Mink Stole in jet black pantyhose, Mary Vivian Pearce in jet black pantyhose and Cookie Mueller in, you guessed it, jet black pantyhose? What's that? I didn't hear you. Speak up. That's right, it's a non-stop cavalcade of crotch-based wetness from start to finish, and don't you forget it.
Since my raison d'être involves filling in holes that are gaping in nature, it only makes sense that I review Pink Flamingos. What I mean is, it's been bothering me for quite some time that there isn't a Pink Flamingos review on this site. It's not that I love the film (it's no Female Trouble... and it's no Desperate Living either), it's that the film features Mink Stole at her most churlishly gorgeous.
Yes, I realize Mink Stole is gorgeously churlish in everything she appears in. But in Pink Flamingos, she seems to be firing on all cylinders. It could be the bright red hair, it could be sparkly cat eye glasses, but there's something extra churlish, extra gorgeous about her as Connie Marble, The Filthiest Woman Alive.
Huh? You say, Divine, a.k.a. Babs Johnson (Divine) is the real "Filthiest Person Alive," and that Connie Marble and her wonderfully perverted husband, Raymond (David Lochary), are merely jealous posers who wouldn't know true filthiness if it bit them on their scab-laden taints.
If that's the case, I'm going to have to disagree with you. I mean, does Divine keep kidnapped hippie chicks locked in her cellar? Does she even have a cellar? Does Divine force their cross-dressing chauffeur to impregnate the cellar-dwelling hippie chicks and then sell the babies to lesbian couples? I didn't think so.
Actually, the more I think about it, the less filthy it sounds. Don't get me wrong, kidnapping and raping women (even if there are hippies) is not morally correct. But providing lesbian couples with low-cost babies is awesome.
Filthy or not, I'm still trying to figure out how Connie Marble, thrift store goddess of the wasteland, managed to be bested by such trailer trash.
On the surface, Divine/Babs Johnson, her trusted traveling companion, Cotton (Mary Vivian Pearce), her delinquent son, Crackers (Danny Mills), and her mentally-ill mother, Miss Edie (Edith Massey), looked like they would be no match for the filthiness Connie and Raymond Marble were putting out there. But it just goes to show that you should maybe think twice before mailing someone a bowel movement, as what they send back could be even worse.
As Crackers says, "No one sends you a turd and expects to live!"
While Miss Edie is waiting in her playpen for her beloved Eggman (Paul Swift) to deliver the eggs she craves, Connie is interviewing Sandy Sandstone (Nancy Crystal) for a job she has no intention of giving her. I know, what's the point of interviewing someone for a job if you have no intention of hiring them? Well, that's just the way Connie operates.
When Miss Sandstone realizes she isn't getting the job, she starts whining incessantly. This, as you might expect, does not sit well with Connie, who lashes out at Miss Sandstone with a series of cruel one-liners. My favourite, of course, being: "I guess there's just two kinds of people, Miss Sandstone: My kind of people, and assholes. It's rather obvious which category you fit into. Have a nice day."
Meanwhile, back at Babs' trailer (located in a wooded area on the outskirts of Phoenix, Maryland), Babs and Crackers are getting ready to go into town; the latter to pick up his date and the former is going to run some errands. And by "errands," I mean, shove a steak between her legs, take a piss in front of large house and strut down the street to Little Richard's "The Girl Can't Help It."
After successfully placing "Little Noodles" with a lesbian couple named Annette and Merle, Connie... Wait, I think I should mention that "Little Noodles" is the name of the baby one of the women locked in "The Pit" gave birth to. Like I said earlier, the Marbles run a baby ring out of their suburban home. They also own a couple of pornography shops and sell heroin to school children.
Anyway, after the baby is handed over to the dykes (don't worry about the baby's mother, she died during child birth), Connie starts to stress over the whereabouts of Raymond.
He's out doing what most people were doing back in the early 1970s, flashing his pepperoni-enhanced junk at leggy teenage girls in the park.
It turns out that Crackers' date is a spy working for the Marbles. Hired to get dirt on Divine, Cookie (Cookie Mueller) goes that extra mile to extract the information the Marbles will desperately need if they expect to claim the title of "The Filthiest People Alive." And if that means participating in a chicken coop foursome with Crackers and two live chickens while Cotton watches, than so be it.
Since "The Pit" must contain at least two women at all times, Connie and Raymond pluck a hitchhiker named Linda (Linda Olgeirson) off the street and dump her in "The Pit" with the alluringly foul-mouthed and very pregnant Suzie (Susan Walsh). When Suzie realizes Channing plans on inseminating Linda using a cum-filled syringe, she vomits. The cool thing about the vomit scene is it occurs just as Channing is about to ejaculate seminal fluid into his hand. Jizz and puke, together at last.
While jizz and puke are great and all, nothing comes close to topping the sight of Connie and Raymond sucking on one another's toes. Taking a break to bask in the information Cookie obtained for them, Connie (who is wearing nothing but a white pair of men's underpants) and Raymond (who is wearing nothing but ladies drawers) continue to suck each other's toes. But as they're doing so, they proclaim their love for one another using exaggerated language.
"Oh, I am yours, Connie, eternally united to you through an invisible cord of finely woven filth that even God himself could never, ever break." - Raymond Marble
I think most people will agree that the relationship that Connie and Raymond Marble have with one another is truly an inspiration to us all. I mean, their love is so fucking powerful. It's too bad their obsession with becoming "The Filthiest People Alive" clouded their ability to think straight.
Call me someone who isn't hooked up right, but the only parts of Pink Flamingos that grossed me out were the scenes that featured Edith Massey eating eggs. Seriously, someone get this woman a bib.
As for the other so-called gross scenes. I, say, what gross scenes? There's nothing gross about the sight of Mink Stole, Mary Vivian Pearce and Cookie Mueller lounging in jet black pantyhose. And the part where Raymond comes pepperoni-enhanced-cock-to-floppy-girly-cock with a leggy transgender woman (Elizabeth Coffey) in the park, well, that scene was simply delightful.
Maybe I've become jaded over the years, but I've come to view Pink Flamingos more as an erotic comedy than anything else. Sure, the uninitiated will still find material in it to be shocked by. But deep down, the film is an eerily accurate reflection of the times, the early 1970s. And it contains what I consider to be Mink Stole's best role to date. It should go without saying, but I love her more than my own shit.