Cine-Trash

Female Trouble (John Waters, 1974)
by William Ham

No survey of the finest celluloid slop would be complete without due props to the Pope of Trash himself. He may have tempered his temerity a trice in the last decade or so, but his low-budget schlock shockers still manage to amuse and nauseate simultaneously in ways few flix do. Many aficionados swear by Pink Flamingos (1972), and its dogshit-munching climax does tend to leave an impression. But for my money, you can’t beat his follow-up which plays something like a ’50s cautionary melodrama, only minus the cautionary stuff, as played by rejects from Warhol’s Factory. The late, great Divine plays a dual role: As the heroine, Dawn Davenport, a juvenile-delinquent-turned-psychotic-performance-artist, and as Earl, a truck-driving lout who picks Dawn up after she runs away from home and promptly… well, suffice to say that the words “go fuck yourself” have rarely been applied so literally. I wish I had 10,000 words to rhapsodize over the fetid wonderment of this film – Edith Massey as a vicious fag-hag in a truly ungodly dominatrix outfit, Mink Stole as Dawn’s insane daughter Taffy (a standout performance), Divine in a see-through wedding gown, Divine doing trampoline acts with an acid-scarred face and a mohawk, Divine getting shot up with liquid mascara… is your stomach churning? Good. That means it’s working. And the final scene, where Divine delivers an ecstatic acceptance speech as she (?) is strapped into the electric chair, may even beat Flamingos’ much-vaunted capper. What can I say? It’s a classic. For kicks, play this for someone who just “loves” Waters but has only ever seen Hairspray. Just bring a mop when you do.