POLYESTER
D: John Waters; with Divine, Tab Hunter, Edith Massey, David Sampson, Mary
Garlington, Ken King, Mink Stole.
Voyager/Criterion (laserdisc)
“If I’ve achieved one thing in my career,” says comedy auteur John Waters during a particularly reflexive moment on his commentary track for
this laserdisc release of Polyester, “it’s to have made bad taste
respectable.” Respectable? Well, maybe not; but highly entertaining? You
betcha. Polyester, Waters’ self-described “attempt to do my version of a
mainstream movie,” was also his first to sport an “R” rating and feature wide
theatrical distribution, so it seems only appropriate that it’s also the first
to receive the deluxe laserdisc treatment, courtesy of the fine folks at
Voyager/ Criterion. Justifiably legendary female impersonator Divine
(aka Glenn Milstead) stars as Francine Fishpaw, the tortured mother of
two crazed teenage delinquents and wife to a despicable husband who earns their
living from running a local porn theatre (currently showing the charmingly
titled My Burning Bush). Her sanity is slowly pushed to the limit as her
daughter Lu-Lu comes home pregnant; her drug-addicted, foot-fetishist son
Dexter is arrested for viciously stomping innocent women’s feet; and she
catches her hubby in the act of diddling his trashy secretary. Finding no
solace in the arms of her greedy, money-grubbing mother or in the company of
her borderline-retarded friend Cuddles (essayed by Waters regular Edith Massey,
about whom, as Waters relates, a reviewer once said: “She either deserves an
Oscar or a nurse.” Massey’s incredible reply? “I’d like both!”), Francine turns
to the bottle for comfort. She finally finds happiness however, when her
children are rehabilitated (via the therapeutic qualities of painting and
macram�), and she falls into a relationship with the coolly named Todd
Tomorrow (former matinee idol Tab Hunter), a hunky, Corvette-driving stud who
runs a local drive-in that specializes in showing obscure French art films.
But, like everything else in Waters’ hellish suburban landscape, things aren’t
as wonderful as they seem and a number of cruel betrayals threaten to destroy
Francine’s euphoria, culminating in a death-filled, yet uplifting, finale.
Filmed in glorious “Odor-Rama,” Polyester is a real hoot, directed and
acted with the same lurid playfulness that marks all of Waters’ movies. And
while it may not be as daring as Waters’ best work (e.g., Female
Trouble, Desperate Living), there’s more than enough outrageousness
here to satisfy die-hard fans… without scaring off the more sensitive members
of the audience. Criterion has done their usual great job of transferring this
film to laserdisc, with the 1.85:1 letterbox framing perfectly matted, thus
nicely eliminating the problem of exposed boom shots that plagued the earlier
“unmasked” videocassette release. They’ve also kept the price nicely affordable
for once; the extras include the aforementioned commentary track (where else
can you hear both Ingmar Bergman and H.G. Lewis mentioned in the same breath,
and with equal affection no less?), excerpts from Waters’ hilarious book
Shock Value, a short but truly sweet documentary about Edith Massey,
Waters’ infamous “No Smoking” theatre blurb (in which he gleefully encourages
moviegoers to go ahead and light up), various media clips, and the inclusion of
the essential “Odor-Rama” scratch-and-sniff gimmick, Polyester is a
steal at a mere $50. An absolute must for any aficionado of this true American
original.
– Joey O’Bryan
MY NEW GUN
D: Stacy Cochran; with Diane Lane, James LeGros, Steven Collins, Tess
Harper, Bill Raymond, Bruce Altman, Maddie Corman.
Columbia TriStar Home Video
This little-seen 1992 movie is a good example of American independent
filmmaking at its finest. Offbeat and assured, My New Gun tells its
simple story in an intriguing manner. For the most part, writer-director Stacy
Cochran sustains the film’s unusual tone throughout, a tone that verges between
hyperrealist drama and stone-faced comedy. This accomplishment is also due, in
large measure, to the outstanding performances of the film’s two leads, Diane
Lane and James LeGros. The story is told only sketchily; motivations and
explanations are barely present. This leaves most of the secondary characters
ill-developed, though the primaries fare little better. But it’s through the
accumulation of details that this story is told. And there’s also an
ever-present feminist arc to the narrative that traces the growing
self-definition of a suburban housewife. A gun is introduced into the story in
the film’s opening scenes. Dr. Gerald Bender (Collins), a lout who accuses his
wife Debbie (Lane) of revisiting the Valley of the Dolls, decides that it would
be a good idea to buy a gun for his wife so that she will be safe in their
suburban New Jersey home – though from what, he can’t define. And, ironically,
the gun that Debbie adamantly does not want in her house, becomes the means of
her deliverance from her dutiful housewife role. She “loans” the gun to her
mysterious neighbor Skippy (LeGros), who lives with his mother in an identical
tract home across the street. Skippy’s explanations about his odd mother and
his need for the gun, followed by his urgent need for Debbie’s car, are fishy.
But it’s clear from Skippy’s hangdog expression and his devoted attention that
he adores Debbie, and she, in turn, blossoms in his goofy company. Though the
action lags a bit in the middle part of the movie, the odd narrative tone never
lapses. All that’s missing from the movie is a Muzak rendition of “Happiness is
a Warm Gun.” Making up for that oversight, however, is a soundtrack featuring
several tunes sung by Syd Straw. My New Gun unfortunately shot blanks
during its theatrical release but thanks to video, it can remain loaded.
– Marjorie Baumgarten
This article appears in July 28 • 1995 and July 28 • 1995 (Cover).