Multiple Maniacs

I have been a John Waters fan since the 70's. I remember seeing this one in the early 80's and was not impressed with it then, but decided to watch it again recently. Well, the years haven't been kind to the film. I could barely get thru it. From the meandering screenplay, subpar acting and directionless direction--it's all an amateurish affair. Fortunately, John Waters (Divine & Mink Stole) got so much better with each film. I would say bypass this unless you are a die-hard Waters fan.

I love the grainy, inky black and white look of this movie, the bad cuts and scratches and even all the jumps in sound. It's just so gorgeous and couldn't be duplicated today...just a strange feeling is captured here, amplified because it's populated with so many hedonistic weirdos and perverts. Of course, these perks only exist because Waters and his crew were completely inept in the technical ways of cinema, but hey, I'll take what I can get.

Content wise...this has at least a flash or two of brilliance, which is impressive for a film that cost around "5000" bucks. The opening at the Cavalcade of Perversions is great ("She is an auto-erotica copraphrasiac and a gerontophiliac!"), but modern audiences might not know what to make out of all the dated cultural references (too much Manson/Tate stuff)...then there's an incredibly tedious and overlong delusion with Divine narrating her version of Christ. Even more time is padded with endless scenes of characters sitting and/or lying in bed talking (and often forgetting their lines), plus topless jitterbugging from Cookie Mueller, people riding around in cars and Mink Stole ("the religious whore") and Divine walking down the street.

Despite all that, the closing sequences (starting with Lobstra) make up for it and are just priceless. Best use of the song "God Bless America" right here folks! And the film is still completely unique and original 30+ years later, so you really have to admire it on that front as well.

Positively revolting!! A tasteless piece of low-budget garbage, with not one redeeming value. It's just too bad John Waters doesn't make them like this anymore. Not that he ever really did. Multiple Maniacs is a bit different from the other Waters trash classics of the 70's. A bit more bizarre, and unpolished, and just a tad more unrealistic. Multiple Maniacs mostly comes off as a rough draft for Waters next and most famous trash epic, Pink Flamingos. Multiple Maniacs is the first real example of what this John Waters guy was all about, rubbing you the wrong way. Meet the cavalcade of perversion. Posing as a traveling freak show, an odd gang of criminals, led by Diving rob and/or murder unsuspecting shock enthusiasts, just looking for a thrill. Divine is an irritable, outlandish hog of a woman just looking for a reason to off someone... anyone. Lately, that boyfriend of hers, Mr. David has been a real pain in the ass, and today, he just might get it, that is, if he doesn't get her first. As the would-be love birds plot on each other, and cheat on one another with their new girlfriends, we, the audience are subjected (treated) to vulgar atrocity after outrageous one-liner after obscene sex act. A delightful little movie indeed. We got all our Dreamland favorites, Cookie, Mink, Mary, David, Divine, and even our pal, Edith pays us a visit. Everyone brings their A games, A, of course standing for amateur, really, unpolished doesn't even begin to describe what's going on here, but out here in Exploitation Country, flaws such as screwed up lines should be expected and embraced, if you didn't know, then now you know. Multiple Maniacs was Waters' first film that wasn't silent, as well as his last black & white. For more colorful trash check out Female Trouble and Desperate Living. As unpolished and inept as it might be, this is one of the most mean-spirited, unflinching, and flat-out rebellious comedies I've seen, and I passionately recommend it every bit as much as Pink Flamingos, unless you're Catholic, in that case, never mind. 9/10

This film suffers from what a lot of low-budget-inexperienced-director films suffer from: long intervals in which nothing happens in an attempt to get to the better parts of the movie. This one has it is spades, which makes it hard to sit through to get to the highlights. But the high points are some of the most inspired of any John Water's flick: the surreal appearance of "The Emperor of Prague," played by small boy in full monarch regalia who guides Lady Divine, and the completely unsolicited cameo of "Lobstora," the enormous lobster prop who, like nearly everybody in the early films, has its way with Divine. I found these scenes far more interesting than the film as a whole, despite the (possibly unintentional) social commentary of the opening sequence. Here, a crowd of "straights" visit the Carnival of Perversions and witness horrors ranging from the "Puke Eater" to the "Homosexuals." Each attraction is viewed with similar disgust from the suburbanites, yet they make no effort to leave the show, which seems to call to Water's fascination with the American public's fascination with the fringe of society.

The key to understanding this, John Waters' most profound film, is a understanding of its Roman Catholic content and allusions. Divine's long interior monolog inside the church, essentially a long meditation on being different, the Way of the Cross, and the crucifixion scene are all keys to the film's message. Notice that the actors who play the Way of the Cross and crucifixion scenes are the same ones who played in the Carnival of Perversions which opens the movie. And who plays Christ? The heroin addict. Now Waters doesn't use these actors again just to save on budget. The meaning is clear: those people that you smug, suburban do-gooders rejected and made fun of are Christ and his followers. Remember that Christ didn't hang out with sanctimonious, middle class people, but rather with whores, fallen women, the sick, the rejected, the stigmatized, the sinners. Waters draws the parallels very clearly, but most people view the film in such a middle-class way that they can't see Divine and Waters' troupe of hippie- weirdos as allegorical Christ figures. The real giveaway to this interpretation is the actual text of St. Francis's late medieval Way of the Cross which Waters quotes verbatim in the film. And of course, did you ever think about the literal meaning of "divine." Poor, abused Divine's symbolic sacrifice at the claws of Lobstora is yet another variation of the Passion theme. A very literary film indeed.