The Pope of Trash. The Sultan of Sleaze. The Baron of Bad Taste. These are just some of the sobriquets people have bestowed on filmmaker John Waters, and he proudly embraces them all. Waters was in the spotlight at Pick-Staiger Hall last Sunday, as part of the Chicago Humanities Festival, and a great time was had by all. All of Waters' screenplays were available for purchase, and ticket buyers received two free screenplays in a "mystery bundle." The conversation was hosted by Mark Bazer, writer and host of The Interview Show. I use the term host as a courtesy because Waters barely needed an introduction, much less someone trying to ask salient questions. Waters is an iconoclast and what follows here are snippets and snatches of his 90 minutes on a Sunday afternoon. Buckle up!
Waters entered the hall to a rousing standing ovation. His outfit included a jacket with groovy polka dot lapels. He smiled and graciously stood amid the applause. Right out of the gate, Waters was in charge. He read from Pink Flamingos (1972) and performed each character in a voice similar to that of the original actors. It was one of the coolest things I have seen in a long time. Have you really lived and not heard John Waters reading Edith Massey's role as Edie the Egg Lady? I would argue, not. Then there was a lucky audience member who won the chance to read onstage with Waters. The winner was Emma, who sat in front of me. I was thrilled for her, and she did such a good job that even Waters laughed.
Bazer asked how Waters cast his films, and it turns out that almost all of his cast are his neighbors and friends from outside Baltimore. His childhood was quite midcentury "normal." His first two films were shot on his parents' lawn, and despite the outrageous nature of his art, his parents supported him. He lived in the same town as Glenn Milstead, who transformed himself into Divine, aka The Filthiest Woman on Earth. By 1970, he had made his name as an underground filmmaker, which is a term hardly heard any more. Mostly, "underground" meant 16mm movies, shot without permits, nudity, and everyone, even the actors, as part of the crew.
Serendipitously, Northwestern was the first university to screen Pink Flamingos. I recall seeing a few gems at Northwestern, including the R-rated Cinderella (1977), which has a fairy "godmutha" who endows Cinderella with a snapping lady part, and David Lynch's Eraserhead (1977). All of Waters' films made the midnight circuit at arthouse cinemas like the 400 or Parkway. He reminisced about the days when door prizes were under the seats, like two pounds of raw and thawed hamburger. I recall the '70s being very much like living in a Waters or a Blaxploitation flick. There were news stories about the ground beef—really.
He talked about having to lug 16mm cameras around and how today's filmmakers have it easy, making movies with their phones. Gone are the days of "dyke strippers and Johnny Cash Lesbians." Divine was his muse, and they made eight gloriously filthy movies together. Bazer asked how he came up with the characters and plots. He replied that the fun is in the writing. "I made fun of myself. Divine made fun of himself. We made fun of the rules we had to live by." He reminisced about the early days of punk. "Punks were my people! Eat that bonus hole! We're here, not queer, and nobody's used to it!"
Waters is not fond of actors who talk in hyperbole or metaphors like "my journey." He said, "A journey is escaping from Ukraine; winning a Spirit Award is not." He was also quite openly political, saying that our next president should be someone nobody knows, like Obama, who he called the best president we ever had. Bazer pointed out that we here in Illinois knew Obama, and Waters retorted that no one else knew who he was except us. Bazer also asked if Waters had a pet. Waters replied, "I'm not lonely."
Waters is a raconteur who says whatever is on his mind in the vernacular he knows best. He had a poem published in The Atlantic titled "Catch." It's about balls, and you will have to just look it up. Speaking of, Waters has autographed almost every body part there is. He caught RSV at a Nine Inch Nails concert. His Sirius XM channels are Outlaw Country, Real Jazz, Opera, and Rap. He advises that if there is a line that is crossed, to be transgressive; it has to change how people think. An example is to confuse your enemy without making them feel stupid. He calls Hairspray (1988) his most devious film. "Even racists liked it."
He believes in marriage, but he does not want to do gay alimony. He got a custom Easter basket from his parents, with a carton of Kools inside. Back in the day, everyone smoked, and there was a smoker's lounge in his Catholic school. His only regret is smoking, and it has been 4556 days since he quit. He carries a card in his pocket, with each day added as a reminder and an incentive not to start again. He advised an audience member to never call themselves an artist; let others be the judge of that. He also hates it when people say that they are humbled by winning an award. He thinks that Steve Buscemi could play him. I agree. Include your kids in everything you do and make them feel safe. Finally, writing the movies was fun. Making the movies was not fun. It was fun when he got to cash the check.
I am a fan of John Waters. My favorite Waters film was Polyester (1981)—in Odorama. I wish I had kept the scratch-and-sniff card. Spending 90 minutes listening to this man regale the audience with such openness, and not giving a $*#1*@ what anyone thought, was fantastic. I bought two of his autographed screenplays, Female Trouble (1974) and Desperate Living (1977). John Waters appeared May 17 at Pick-Staiger Concert Hall, 50 Arts Circle Drive, in Evanston. I highly recommend attending if he stops in Chicago again.
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