At age 58, local legend John Waters has an uncanny ability to channel his inner adolescent -- or maybe he just never grew up. Either way, his most recent film, A Dirty Shame, represents a return to his earlier Pink Flamingo days that is sure to please his fans and thoroughly repulse everyone else.
Known affectionately by such monikers as The Sultan of Sleaze and The Baron of Bad Taste, Waters has become famous (or notorious) for his gross-out tactics and locker room humor. In recent years, his movies catered more to the mainstream; Hairspray was even adapted into a Tony-winning Broadway musical. His last movie, Cecil B. DeMented, while considerably less conventional, was downright awful. A Dirty Shame, therefore, feels like a vintage Waters' classic -- disgusting, envelope-pushing, and funny as hell.
Waters constructed his film around a winning premise -- a series of accidental concussions transform the residents of Harford Road into uncontrollable sex addicts. What results is a raunchy freak show replete with bizarre fetishes and clever, bawdy euphemisms. To be sure, this movie is inappropriate for children, but I have to question the NC-17 rating. Despite foul language and every sexual euphemism in the book (my personal favorite is "yodeling in the canyon"), there is relatively little nudity or depiction of actual sex acts. The film is meant to be rousing, not arousing.
Sylvia Stickles (Tracey Ullman) is a grumpy, repressed Baltimorean, too busy to be interested in her frustrated husband's (Chris Isaak) sexual advances. Unfortunately for her, lust is in the air on Harford Road: the elderly couple down the street makes out in broad daylight, the foliage takes on suggestive shapes, and even the squirrels are getting some action. The sexual lasciviousness hits even closer to home; Sylvia's daughter, Caprice (an unrecognizable Selma Blair), is a devoted go-go dancer and exhibitionist. She showcases her impossibly large breasts at bars on the Block, where she is known by her stage name, Ursula Udders. Now Caprice is under house arrest for nude drunk driving.
Everything changes when Sylvia suffers an unexpected concussion. Sexual healer Ray-Ray (Johnny Knoxville) comes to her "rescue," baptizing her into her new life as a sex addict. (Waters is ballsy enough to make blatant Christ analogies with Ray-Ray, my one big issue with the movie). It turns out that Sylvia is the twelfth disciple he needs for his quest to find a new sex position. Soon Sylvia befriends the other disciples, fetishists like Dingy Dave (James Ransone), who is aroused by dirt, and Messy Melinda (Susan Rome), who enjoys smearing food in her cleavage.
Her husband is confused but generally pleased with the new Sylvia, but others in the neighborhood are much less accepting. Sylvia's mother, Big Ethel (Suzanne Shepherd), can't believe the bad news. "My daughter is a good girl," she laments. "She hates sex." Big Ethel joins forces with Marge the Neuter (Waters' regular Mink Stole) to campaign against the "perverts" who are taking over the neighborhood.
A Dirty Shame flirts with the issues of tolerance and our society's often hypocritical and self-conscious approach to sex, but Waters never lets himself get serious. Instead we get treated to hilarious site gags and fabulous comedic dialogue. I especially enjoyed the touching moment of reconciliation between mother and daughter when Sylvia asks Caprice, "Sweetie, I know [your lover] Fat F--k Frank is a tit-man, but does he ever head down south?"
Given that the movie has more of a premise than a plot, Waters has a hard time sustaining the momentum through the 90-minute film. He recycles and overextends jokes, like Caprice's gigantic breasts or a cop who's into infantilism, until they are well past their expiration date. The movie hits its high point early on, with Sylvia's delightfully ironic interpretation of a popular children's song, then loses steam until its big finale, when the horny residents crowd the street in an erotic allusion to Night of the Living Dead for a truly explosive climax (pun intended).
Good acting, however, compensates for any deficiencies in the plot. Ullman is spectacular and euphoric as Sylvia, letting go of all inhibitions and clearly having the time of her life. Knoxville also delivers a fun performance, and I loved the token role for Patricia Hearst as a recovering sex addict in a twelve-step program.
As always, Waters provides plenty of winks to his loyal fans, including a cameo by Waters' film regular Ricki Lake, a bizarre appearance by David Hasselhoff that would make Divine proud and plenty of Baltimore in-jokes. Keep your eyes peeled for the syphilis ad on an MTA bus and a well-placed BELIEVE billboard. My favorite was the yuppie imports from D.C. who marvel at their neighbors' idiosyncrasies ("Things like this never happen in Washington!") while they formstone their house.
The bottom line? While not for the weak of heart, A Dirty Shame is devilishly fun, a Waters classic with a big heart and a very dirty mind.
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