JOHN WATERS

John Waters debuted his new show, A Filthy World, in Fort Lauderdale last Saturday, to an almost sold-out crowd 

SHADE-O-METER RATING

OUTTA 5 WERKS: “10s ACROSS THE BOARD – LEGENDARY STATUS”

Who’s John WatersI think we all know who he is.  If you’re the one-in-a-million who doesn’t, look him up.  What’s Sunshine CathedralIt’s a predominately LGBT church/performing arts venue (yes, just like the original Ryman Auditorium, sans the LGBT part).  How was the venue?  For the most part, it looked like a modern church.  But there weren’t any wood pews (thank God).  The seats were comfortable.  The main décor on the stage were spotlight urns, which has sticks fanning out of them (very Blair Witch).  How was the parking?  Parking was available in various grass-lots, which only required a short walk to the venue.  Does the venue serve liquor?  I saw a few people with beer bottles in their hands, so there must be some type of cabaret license—probably for beer and wine only.  How were the drinks?  We didn’t get any.  Does the venue serve food?  Nope.  How much were the tickets?  $30.  Where were the seats?  Towards the back, but there really was no bad seat in the venue.  According to the website, it holds 450 people.  Was the show sold out?  Just about.  Who was the opening act?  Unless you count the one drag queen who sauntered up and down the aisle a few times as an “opening act,” there wasn’t any.


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How was the show?  To begin, Waters wasn’t quite the most natural or humanistic performer.  And for all intents and purposes, the show really was a scripted comedy show—it wasn’t simply him discussing his career.  Considering this, Waters wasn’t as proficient in this arena as, for example, Chris Rock or Gilbert Gottfried.  The show was loosely framed around several themes: Trump/politics (with Trump characterized as a “shithole in the White House” and an “orange anus”), a satirical look at what a “President Waters” administration would be like, the contradiction between being irreverent versus owning three houses, Hollywood directors and Hollywood itself, his film career (which took up half the show; Female Trouble probably got the loudest applause), and, finally, his desires for the future (i.e., open a store, have a fashion line, continue writing and touring).  As contained in Water’s films, he seemed to find the greatest glee in the off-beat and the absurdities of life.


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When John Waters delivered his gleefully subversive advice to the graduates of the Rhode Island School of Design, the speech went viral, in part because it was so brilliantly on point about making a living as a creative person. Now we can all enjoy his sly wisdom in a manifesto that reminds us, no matter what field we choose, to embrace chaos, be nosy, and outrage our critics.

Some of the better lines in the show were: “Old chickens make good soup.  Hunting isn’t a sport if the animals aren’t trained to shoot back.  I was at a party, and they handed poppers to a young person, and they drank them.  I feel bad for drag queens today; who would want to be Melania Trump?  Wouldn’t Hairpie be a great title for a porn spoof of Hairspray?  We’re [me and my actors] all going to be buried in plots near Divine; it’ll be called Disgraceland.  The only way that kids can rebel today is to tell their parents that they don’t want a phone.  We have too many gays already; new ones should have to ‘audition’ on a reality show.  Can you imagine a scatological porn version of Schindler’s List called Shitler’s List?  Everything is so PC today; you can’t even call someone a ‘cocksucker’ anymore.”  Waters closed the formal part of the show with a kind of poetic discourse about how his dreams came true because of “you, the audience,” but he urged them to stay on the “other side of dreamland,” like in Fort Lauderdale, which always had—among other things—the best hustlers.

How was the crowd?  They laughed, but there wasn’t any on-the-floor guffawing going on or any displays of uncontrollable stitches.  What could have improved the show?  The venue needs to teach some of the ushers some manners.  The producer made a pre-show announcement that no video recording was allowed.  I tried to take a picture when Waters came on the stage, but I barely had the phone up before an usher slammed his hand down on my shoulder, informing that no video was allowed.  When I clarified that I wasn’t taking video, he said that “no pictures were allowed, either.”  That’s all fine and dandy, but you need to tell the audience that first.  Very rude behavior, if you ask me.

What was surprising about the show?  Waters did a Q&A for a good 20 minutes at the end, with the house lights up, and, although it wasn’t necessarily shocking that he did it, I certainly wasn’t expecting it.  It was during this section that the full personality—more or less—was on display, and what Waters might have previously lacked in performance acumen during the formal set, he made up for during this segment.  The Q&A was prefaced with, “I’ll answer anything.”  During it, he discussed how the internet has hooked up the world to the point where you can create anywhere, but there are still a few cities left that have “local color” (for example, Baltimore).  How his books sell better than his last film did.  How one of his favorite recent films was Mom and Dad.  How “no’s” are free, but you only need one “yes” to make it in show business.  How dogs have been sentenced to a lifetime of “human caresses.”  That after he met Clint Eastwood, the press coined the meeting as, “The Odd Couple.”  How Divine could make it today, since it’s even easier to make “underground” films now.  His thoughts on glory holes (he likes them).  And, lastly, Waters urged the audience to keep creating.  For, “It’s easy to shock.  But it’s much harder to make people laugh at what they’re uncomfortable with—that’s what I always tried to do.”

Sunshine Cathedral is located at 1480 Southwest 9th Ave., in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.