John Waters @ 75: Hairspray (1988)
Thursday, April 29, 2021 at 3:01PM 
As Oscar fever dies down, we return, here at The Film Experience, to the John Waters retrospective in celebration of the director's 75th birthday. I'm immensely grateful for Nathaniel, who invited us each to choose a movie, since it gave me a grand opportunity to dive deep into the filmography of this auteur. Before this month, I had only seen three of Waters' movies, but now I've watched most of his features, including five of the projects he did with legendary drag queen Divine. The picture I'm here to explore is fundamental in the legacy of both artists. Hairspray was to be Divine's last movie before a tragic death at the age of 42…
Despite his reputation as a dealer of trash, maker of provocative garbage, and vile cinema, I've found John Waters' movies to be peculiarly wholesome. Such conclusions may sound deranged, but there's something to be said about an artist who loves his characters and performers so dearly that the affection inflames the screen. While shooting his pictures with a fine-tuned sense of grubby artlessness, Waters made sure to celebrate the marginalized, the grotesque and infamous, showing as much effervescent enthusiasm for his villains as he did for the flicks' putative heroes. Publicized as showing the depths of human perversion, the movies are nonetheless undercut by deep wells of twisted humanism.
The way Waters' camera loves Divine is awe-inspiring, especially when what we see on-screen are the crassest of images. Whether eating dog's shit or grinning through acid-melted flesh, the drag superstar is an endless source of entertainment, a vivacious sight whose penchant for making cruelty fun is pretty unmatched in the annals of cinema history. That being said, it's interesting how her roles became softer as her tenure as Waters' muse continued. In Pink Flamingos and Female Trouble, she's an empress of filth willing to shoot her audiences without mercy. However, with the dawn of the 80s came a different archetype. There's her stint as a Sirkian heroine in the melodramatic Polyester and, of course, the iconic supporting turn in Hairspray.
After three decades of über-popularity, a Broadway musical, a remake, and a TV special, it's safe to say that Hairspray's basic plotline is pretty familiar to most moviegoers. Inspired by his experiences as a teenager, Waters tells a story set in early-1960s Baltimore, where Tracy Turnblad lives as a hefty high-schooler with dreams of making it big as a dancer on television. As luck would have it, the pleasantly plump teen has her dreams come true when she's cast as a regular on the Corny Collins Dance Show (a reference to the real-life Buddy Deane Show). Outspoken and suddenly famous, Tracy uses her celebrity to promote the cause of integration to the dismay of racist TV execs, greedy industrialists, and a villainous society of conservative assholes.
As she competes for the title of Miss Auto Show 1963, the controversy becomes particularly heated. Her biggest competition is Amber Von Tussle, whose pro-segregation parents will do anything to secure their brat's victory. They won't even stop at the heinous crime of destroying a fabulously turgid wig with homemade explosives. At the same time, Tracy's family supports her unconditionally. As for her best friend, Penny, she learns the pleasures of being a 'checkerboard chick', finding happiness away from her parents and in the arms of a Black dancer. All that, and there's some silly business about roaches, reformatory imprisonment, and a ton of hair products which are abused in the name of backcombed manes, bouffants, and beehives.
As horrible as some characters may behave, as hellish as the historical realities were, Hairspray is nothing short of joyful, and the direction constantly vibrates with delight. Even when showing Amber's temper tantrums or Penny's unsuccessful psychiatric reconditioning, John Waters is having fun and inviting the viewers to join him. That boundless joy helps justify some of the movie's more meandering passages, like the curiously lethargic dance-offs or the beatnik parody that occurs halfway through. If anything, we're reminded how much of the film comes from Waters' obsessions. The quirkiness of his references is intrinsically connected to the committed crassness of his oeuvre. If it were any more seamless or fluid, Hairspray wouldn't be half as fun. The brittle imperfection of the production is as much a part of the movie's glory as the matted messiness is essential to Tracy's half-peroxided hairdo.
Too much polish is poison in Waters' cinematic universe, and that extends to the matter of craft and performance. Van Smith's costumes and the wondrous hair designs are always far removed from any paradigm of tastefulness. The satin wrinkles and pulls, the follicular towers wobble perilously, almost as if they might tumble down at any given moment. Similarly, there's no skillful naturalism in the cast's abrasive acting style. Instead, Waters' chosen thespians confront the camera with giddy snarls and an acceptance of ridicule, an embrace even. It's true of Ricki Lake's ebullient Tracy, Debbie Harry's harpy-like perfidiousness as Velma Von Tussle, and Michael St. Gerard's weepy take on Link Larkin, the main love interest.
Most of all, this is evident in Divine's double role as both Edna Turnblad, Tracy's Mom, and Arvin Hodgepile, a venal TV executive who opposes integration with every big bone in his body. Whilst bringing her acerbic wit and hostile screen persona to both roles, Divine finds a bizarre kind of familial warmth in Edna. Even as she spits one-liners and utters disdain for a slew of nearby characters as well as herself, this 60s housewife is a beacon of support for her daughter, a loving match for her goofy husband. She's also a movie star with gigantic lentils-padded breasts and drag makeup. Few would call Divine a great actor, but there's range shown in Hairspray. Best of all, John Waters is positively in love with his regular player's ability to electrify the screen, even when he pushes her to the sidelines in supporting roles.
Witnessing the way the camera adores Divine is an invigorating experience, one that's as valuable as a piece of underground expression as an off-color family flick. Growing up gay, fat, and weird, thinking myself as ugly as they come and unlovable to boot, I can't imagine how life-affirming it would have been to watch the movies of John Waters instead of an endless supply of Hollywood twaddle that didn't represent me or reflect my sensibilities. I'd always thought of this director's cinema as a bottomless pit of aggressive grossness. Still, I've come to find that his works represent a cinema of generosity, where provocation is a way of celebrating outsiders, where grotesquerie is a sort of beauty. This may have been my first foray into the crazy marvels of 1988's Hairspray. However, it's one of those films I'm sure to revisit many times over the years. What a blast!
More from our John Waters Celebration
Pink Flamingos (1972)
Female Trouble (1974)
Desperate Living (1977)
Polyester (1981)
Pecker (1998)
Reader Comments (11)
My introduction to John Waters!
Great write-up on a great film!
My 12 year old son has known since birth that if I say "I have a load of ironing to do and my diet pill is wearing off" that I mean business.
Great piece per usual, Claudio! Although I must take issue with this:
"Few would call Divine a great actor."
I legit think Divine was one of the greatest comic actors of all time. Nobody made John's lines funnier. (I'll call it a tie with Mink Stole.) Granted it was heightened performing (to put it mildly) but Divine understood every assignment, made every single word sing, and we wouldn't still be watching these movies without him.There'd be no John Waters without him -- John himself has said that repeatedly. And I think all the characters Divine did are distinguishable -- I'd never confuse Dawn Davenport, Francine Fishpaw, Edna Turnblad. Even the early variations of "Divine," in Multiple Maniacs and Flamingos, seem like totally different people.
I wish we'd gotten to see him branch out into other people's works -- I bet his turn out of drag on Married With Children (which he was set to start filming the same day he died) would've been it's own unique, hilarious thing.
I cannot agree hard enough when it comes to Waters' wholesomeness.
You nailed it.
while I love the original, I have to say that the musical version of 2007 is almost cinematic perfection... and one of the biggest Oscar snubs I can think of (given the raves and the b.o. smash hit)
Great write-up, but you need to wear a giant P on your Polo shirt. Tracy's best friend is named Penny (not Peggy). If you've watched this classic about 100 times already (like I have), you'd know by heart that 'Penny Pingleton, you are permanently, positively punished!'
This was my introduction to John Waters and man, it's such a fun film. Suprisingly wholesome as well and it actually has a lot of heat. Divine should've gotten accolades in his dual role as Edna Turnblad and Arvin. He was so fun to watch and it should've lead to bigger things as he was supposed to be in an episode of Married... with Children as Peg Bundy's mother but... he died and they ended up making Peg Bundy's mother an off-screen character with some other actress doing the voice.
@ Jason
Have you seen Alan Rudolph's Trouble in Mind? Divine (in male drag) is great in a supporting role as a gangster.
I'm so glad Divine lived long enough to read the positive reviews he got for HAIRSPRAY. He was, according to Waters, particularly happy about the Pauline Kael one...
THIS movie was such a big deal to me as a kid. I found it at the library in probably like... 2005? Which would make me 12. Idk, somewhere around there. I saw Ricki Lake who I know from her talk show and I was like "huh?" Anyway, I loved it. It was so grimy and raw, but as others have said, wholesome and good-spirited. Just a really fun movie. And to see it become so much bigger with the musical and musical movie is really nice, because it's that good.
I'm so eggcited for Cry-Baby and Serial Mom!!
"Your honor, can we take Wanda the fuck home?"
Serial's finale is just pure gold: from Patty Hearst's "Fashion has changed" to "Suzanne Somers, this is my BAD side!" and that delicious score...
Hahahaha. Waters is a living legend, and I love him so.