Polyester (John Waters, 1981)

Judging by the way the harsh light of day cascaded off her legs as she sat on the pavement outside the entrance of the Crockfield Mall in suburban Baltimore, I'd say they were sheathed in a pair of tan pantyhose (legs in hose shimmer, legs not in hose... well, they... um... I think I'm going to be sick... ugh... let's try not dwell on hose-free gams, shall we?). Grabbing the foot that had just been stomped on by Dexter Fishpaw, a.k.a. The Baltimore Foot-Stomper, Shirley Evans (Susan Lowe), a.k.a. "The Mall Victim," cries out for help. But no assistance is forthcoming. Instead, she must sit there and watch as Dexter dances around her in a frenzied manner; his outward expression of arousal no doubt pressing tightly against the fly of his jeans as he danced... frenziedly. Later that week, Dexter is in the supermarket combing the aisles for a pair of feet worthy enough to stomp. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spots a vision of foot-based loveliness in a tartan skirt and a snug-fitting burgundy sweater. Following the unnamed "Supermarket Victim" (Marina Melin) as she enters the aisle that contains products that boast water-soluble cleansing agents, Dexter can hardly contain his excitement, as her feet are simply sublime.

Overwhelmed by the erotic potency her feet are putting out there (the firmness of her black tights causes her feet to excrete a pungent odor that only he can smell), Dexter begins to fall over. Luckily for him, a shelf stacked with nothing but roll after roll of paper towels manages to break his fall.

Composing himself, Dexter approaches the supermarket victim and stomps of her left foot with all of his might. However, unlike the foot stomping that took place outside the mall entrance, two men come to the supermarket victim's aid almost immediately. Meaning, just as Dexter's outward expression of arousal was about to press tightly against the fly of his jeans, he's thrown into a giant stack of canned peas.

Oh, hello. This site hasn't, believe or not, turned into the place to satisfy all your Dexter Fishpaw fan fiction needs. It's still the place to read overlong essays about "cult movies." That being said, I felt compelled to start off my review of John Waters' Polyester with a piece that focuses primarily on the two instances in the film where Dexter Fishpaw is shown doing what he does best. And that is, stomping on women's feet.

The reason I felt compelled to do is easy, I admire the heck out of Dexter Fishpaw (Ken King), the combat boot-wearing, foot-obsessed rapscallion who also inhales solvents and does angel dust. Why? It's simple, really, he's passionate about something that doesn't exactly gel with mainstream society. Yet, at the same time, he doesn't seem to care what this so-called "mainstream society" might think about his varied interests.

Of course, a lot of you are probably wondering why I didn't start off my review with a tangent about Mink Stole in black stockings (attached to a black garter belt, no less). Well, I thought about doing that, but Dexter Fishpaw's plot line was impossible to ignore.

I know, the sight of Mink Stole, one of my favourite people in the known universe, prancing about in black stockings and cornrows(!) is impossible to ignore as well. But Dexter Fishpaw's plot line has so many ups and downs. And not only that, Dexter's foot stomping, if you think about it, actually prevents outside forces from destroying the Fishpaw way of life.

And what exactly does this way of life entail, you ask? Well, for one thing, it doesn't involve being humiliated by your porno theatre-owning husband on a daily basis. Poor Francine Fishpaw (Divine), all she wants to do live a normal, semi-productive life. Unfortunately for her, civil society has gone to shit.

The smut peddling antics of her husband, Elmer Fishpaw (David Samson) are bringing unwanted attention to her quiet cul-de-sac, her son Dexter is the Baltimore Foot-Stomper, her daughter, Lu-Lu Fishpaw (Mary Garlington), is a trampy Farrah Fawcett wannabe who's dating a scumbag named Bo-Bo Belsinger (Stiv Bators), and her mother is in cahoots with a shady Lothario named Todd Tomorrow (Tab Hunter). So, as you can see, Francine has no choice but to start drinking heavily.

To make matters worse, Lu-Lu is learning about her cervix at school and she's driving around Baltimore with Bo-Bo hitting non-wasp pedestrians with a broom. As terrible as the latter sounds, Bo-Bo meets his match when he stumbles upon Jean Hill while she's waiting for a bus. Remember when Jean Hill said in Desperate Living that she doesn't want no white man lookin' at her Tampax? Well, in this film, she doesn't want no white man hitting her in the ass with a broom, so she hijacks a bus, chases Bo-Bo down, bites one of his tires and beats the crap out of him.

At any rate, if that wasn't enough, Lu-Lu tells her mother that she's going to get a job as a go-go dancer at The Flaming Cave.

While having a lunch with her friend Cuddles (Edith Massey), a woman her mother describes as a "retarded scrubwoman," Francine gets a phone call from Susan Sullivan (Mink Stole), her husband's "secretary."

Sitting on Elmer's desk, Susan Sullivan hangs up the phone and begins to giggle while jiggling... or is she jiggling while giggling?!? Either way, Mink Stole is in black lingerie and I couldn't be more pleased by what is transpiring onscreen.

I don't know what it is about John Waters and heterosexuality, but like Mink Stole and David Lochary's relationship in Pink Flamingos (as Connie and Raymond Marble) and Mary Vivian Pearce and David Lochary's relationship in Female Trouble (as Donald and Donna Dasher), the pairing of Mink Stole and David Samson (as Susan Sullivan and Elmer Fishpaw) in Polyester depicts heterosexuality in a positive light.

Most movies look down on heterosexuality, but the films of John Waters seem to embrace it.

Suspecting that her husband is having an affair with his "secretary," Francine asks Cuddles to spy on them. However, before Cuddles can report back Francine, Lu-Lu tells her that she's two months pregnant. Which leads to this little nugget of scripted sunshine: "I'm getting an abortion and I can't wait." Just for the record, that particular passage is my second favourite line in the entire movie.

What's that? You wanna know what my favourite is. As luck would have it, it's coming right up.

Tracking Elmer and Susan down at a sleazy motel, Francine and Cuddles burst into their room to discover them sitting on the bed together. While that sounds innocuous, if you look closely, you'll notice that Elmer is drinking champagne out of one of Susan's red pumps. And you know what that means, right? Exactly, Mink Stole's nylon-ensnared feet are exposed for the world to see. And the world agrees, it's a beautiful thing.

Huh? Oh yeah, my favourite line. After the word divorce bandied about, Francine asks about Elmer's commitment to Dexter and Lu-Lu, Susan chimes in by saying: "Children would get in the way of our erotic lifestyle." I know, it's not quite up there with " I wouldn't suck your lousy dick if I was suffocating and there was oxygen in your balls! or "Tell your mother I hate her! Tell your mother I hate you!" as far as Mink-isms go, but I like the idea of people foregoing the drudgery of child rearing to live erotic lifestyles.

Putting aside the novelty that is "Odorama" (numbers appear on the screen periodically instructing you to sniff, using your Odorama card, a series of foul-smelling odors), Polyester was turning point for John Waters. The amateur, do-it-yourself aesthetic of his previous films has been replaced with helicopter shots, steadicam shots and professional stunts. The biggest change, however, comes in the form of Divine, who, for the first time in his career, is playing a part not associated with his Divine persona. At the time, this was seen as a bit of a gamble, but Divine, channeling his beloved Elizabeth Taylor, is pretty convincing as a stressed out housewife.

Mixing the crude humour and the social satire of his underground movies and combining it with classic Hollywood filmmaking techniques (think Douglas Sirk meets Russ Meyer), John Waters's Polyester is the best of both worlds. Competently made filth.

Pink Flamingos (John Waters, 1972)

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.

Liquid Dreams (Mark S. Manos, 1991)

When the luminous Mink Stole (Desperate Living) first appears onscreen and extends her glad-hand to Candice Daly's character, my initial thought was: Yay! Mink Stole! Why the yay? It's simple, really, Mink Stole rules and you rarely ever see her act in movies that are not written and directed by John Waters (Mondo Trasho). However, when that initial yay-based thought had subsided, another thought popped into my head immediately afterward. And that was: Call me crazy, but it would seem that Mink Stole and I have the exact same arms! As I was thinking this thought, it dawned me: I don't think it's a good idea for grown men living on the fringes of heterosexuality to openly admit that they have the exact same arms as Mink Stole. Then I thought: Fuck that shit, I'm not ashamed of my puny arms. In other words, say it loud and say it proud: I have the upper body of a twelve year-old girl. Deal with it. Okay, enough about my tiny little girl arms, let's get down to the nitty-gritty of this cinematic alkaline potassium compound. It's called Liquid Dreams and it is hands down one of the most aesthetically pleasing films I've seen in a long time.

Remember when you saw Front 242 live in concert back in the early 1990s? You do? Excellent. Do you recall all those television sets in the background that were playing weird images on a loop? Actually, I'm not entirely sure if it was Front 242 now that I think about it. All right, let me try again. Did anyone see an industrial band in concert during the early 1990s? Well, if you did, you'll recognize a lot the imagery used throughout this hyper-stylish sci-fi noir/erotic thriller.

Part Videodrome, part Wizard of Oz, part Dr. Caligari, part Baby Face, with a dash of Liquid Sky thrown in there for good measure, Liquid Dreams takes place in what looks like the not-so distant future.

And even though place names like, "Ohio" and "Kansas" are used in the early going, the film shirks nationalism and seems much more interested in creating a unique sense of time and place. It attempts to depict a world that exists purely on its own terms. Something I wish more films would try to do, as I'm getting little tired of films that are set in the real world.

Proving that you don't necessarily need a big budget in order to fashion a completely fabricated world from scratch, writer-director Mark Manos and co-writer Zack Davis set their dystopic vision in a large building called "NeuroVid," which I think was created by using a large model.

While I'm itching to give you a guided tour of the NeuroVid Complex, let's first talk about that opening credits sequence, as it's a doozy. Starting with an explosion of static noise, we're shown a rapid fire series of bizarre images set to what sounds like a Clock DVA* B-side circa The Hacker. Boasting masked figures moaning, scat porn (I'm not 100% sure about this one), blurry images, video glitches, lips smeared with blood and random acts of sadomasochism, the makers of Liquid Dreams have already signaled to me that they mean business. Which, I'll admit, caused me to let out a bit of a sigh of relief, as I thought I was about to watch a bland straight-to-cable erotic thriller.

The cab driver (John Doe) who picks up Eve Black (Candice Daly) pegs her as a small town girl from Ohio in search of a lost love in the big city. Telling him that she is in fact from Kansas and is in search of Tina (Karen Dahl), her long lost sister, Eve instructs the cabbie to let her out in front of an ominous-looking building.

When she enters the lobby, we get our first real taste of NeuroVid, the only channel available in the NeuroVid Complex. Finding her sister's apartment on level three, Eve is shocked to discover her sister lying dead in her bathtub. Asking Cecil (Tracey Walter), a NeuroVid employee with a stutter, to help her, Eve begins to panic. Who did this to her and how did she end up in this place? are the questions that are probably going through her mind right now as she watches Cecil snap pictures of Tina's naked corpse.

Looking like he just stepped off the set of a classic film noir, Lt. Rodino (Richard Steinmetz) enters the room and begins asking Eve a bunch of questions. Wearing a fedora and seemingly always in the process of lighting a cigarette, Lt. Rodino's forthright manner manages to irk Eve, who is still somewhat shell-shocked.

When Eve makes it clear that she has no intention of leaving until she finds out who was responsible for her sister's death, Lt. Rodino asks her, using the most condescending tone in his vast arsenal of condescending tones, if she has any idea where she is. While his tone is a tad dickish, he is right, Eve has no clue what's in store for her if she decides to hang around NeuroVid.

Noticing a video monitor on the wall (every room is equipped with one), she turns up the volume and experiences the audio-video assault that is NeuroVid first-hand. I must say, even though we only get a brief taste of what NeuroVid has to offer, the moment when Eve turns up the volume has to be one of the most industrial moments in film history.

After Lt. Rodino leaves, Eve thinks that she can simply start living in Tina's apartment. Wrong! You see, the apartments in the NeuroVid complex are strictly for employees of NeuroVid. Which means... well, I'll let Juno (Juan Fernández) explain it to her. Kicking her out before she even had to a chance to ask how much the rent is, Eve is sent packing.

Luckily, Paula (Frankie Thorn), who is wearing red gloves and a headband covered in polka dots, sees this and decides to help Eve out by getting her audition to work at The Red Top, a club located on the fifth floor that sort of acts as training ground for new girls (and you can't get any more new than Eve). Borrowing one of Paula's outfits, a tight red dress, Eve is "interviewed" by Maurice (James Oseland), who tells her to dance on his desk without knocking anything over. You would think that Eve's long, shapely legs would be knocking things over left, right and centre, but she doesn't upset a single item on his desk. Boo-ya!

Given the stage name "Dorothy," Eve is assigned a first floor dormitory (she seems glad her room's video monitor is on the fritz, but Cecil tells her he'll come by to fix it later - NeuroVid, NV for short, is mandatory), and she gets a quick refresher course on the many rules and regulations that come with working at The Red Top by Juno, her new boss (that's right, one minute he's kicking you out onto the street, the next he's telling you that you'll be making 500 units a week).

Now, The Red Top isn't your average strip club. The men ask the women if they want to slow dance, and when the men start to get grabby, the woman takes him to a private area located behind a red curtain. Once there, the man is escorted by a couple of "Escorts" (men in grey jumpsuits) to The Hot Box. What happens in The Hot Box is a bit of a mystery at first. But as we soon find out, the reason the women are instructed to take the men behind the red curtain when they get grabby is because that's when their brains are teeming with endorphins.

One of the first men Eve/Dorothy takes behind the red curtain is Angel (Paul Bartel), a throat, ear and foot fetishist (his line pertaining to Eve/Dorothy's sweaty feet brought a tear to my eye). Curious to know what happens to the men once they're inside The Hot Box, Eve/Dorothy decides to take a peak. And let's just say Eve/Dorothy is appalled by what she sees.

Told that she has "television potential," Eve/Dorothy reluctantly agrees to appear in one of NeuroVid's videos. This leads to the film's best sequence, a video shoot on a farm set featuring a male reactor (those who appear in NV videos are not called actors, they're called reactors) dressed like a deformed scarecrow and two half-naked guys in crow masks dancing around  Eve/Dorothy, who is dressed as a farm girl in white hold-up stockings.

Instructed by the video's director, Felix (Mink Stole), to listen to her muze, the scene mixes Rinse Dream-style kookiness with Belgian electro-industrial music (Insekt, Vomito Negro, A Split-Second, The Klinik, Snowy Red, Liquid G, etc.), as the vocal sample, "freedom from the flesh," is repeated over and over again.

In-between the shots of Eve/Dorothy shooting her NV video, we're shown snippets of her performance at Twilight, the strip club that serves as a jumping off point to being chosen to participate in The Ritual. And once you have performed in both a NeuroVid video and danced at Twilight, you're pretty much guaranteed to be asked to partake in The Ritual. And as you might expect, The Ritual takes place on the penthouse floor, where The Major (Barry Dennen), the NV big cheese, rules over his sick, twisted, self-contained mini-empire.

As both Paula (who lounges in white hold up stockings while watching NV like a pro) and Marilyn Tokuda's Violet (a fellow Red Top dancer who is obsessed with Eve/Dorothy's leather jacket) would say, in the world of NeuroVid, "you're either up or out." That's right, there's no turning back for her. If Eve really wants to know what happened to her sister, she's going to have to keep climbing the NeuroVid ladder all the way to the top.

Black stockings, white stockings, blindfolds, syringes, Mink Stole (Female Trouble - "I wouldn't suck your lousy dick if I was suffocating and there was oxygen in your balls!"), talk of "peak experiences," siphoning endorphins, Paul Bartel (Eating Raoul - "Why don't you go to bed, honey? I'll bag the Nazi and straighten up."), mismatched opera gloves, industrial inspired music (composer Ed Tomney's electronic score is amazing), muze blocking, skinny arm confessions, Tracey Walter (Repo Man - "The more you drive, the less intelligent you are."), and neon diner clocks, Liquid Dreams, to put it simply, is what awesome looks like.

If you're like me, and you thought someone should make a movie that totally looks like it was inspired by the cover of "The Ritual Should Be Kept Alive (Part 2)" by The Hybryds (who, like everything that was cool circa 1990, are from Belgium), your prayers have finally been answered.

Oh, and, by the way, if you have twenty-five minutes to kill, you should check out "The Ritual Should Be Kept Alive (Part 2)," it's trippy and intense. And lastly, don't even think about trying to take advantage of my freakishly tiny arms, I have the legs of a Welsh rugby player. Meaning, I'll straight up kick your ass.

* Clock DVA is actually pronounced "klok dvah." I used to say, "klok dee-vee-ay" back in the day. I know, how embarrassing.