ATLRetro

POLYESTER (1981); Dir: John Water; Starring Divine, Tab Hunter; Plaza Theatre, Saturday, December 1 at 10:00pm; presented by BLAST-OFF BURLESQUE’S TABOO-LA-LA in ODORAMA. Trailer here.

By Andrew Kemp
Contributing Writer

Let’s start with a question. What if I told you that, on Saturday night at the Plaza, you had a chance to experience a film in ODORAMA, a process that lets you scratch-and-sniff a card to experience with the, um, aromas of the movie you’re watching, aromas that include such delights as model airplane glue, skunk and flatulence? Does that sound like your idea of a fun weekend night?

Those of you who said “yes, please!” already know John Waters and his film, POLYESTER, playing as part of the regular TABOO-LA-LA series presented by Blast-Off Burlesque. You guys are going to be there anyway. For those of you who *ahem* politely declined, the burden now falls to me to change your mind.

John Waters is kind of a maniac, but movie nuts and those with a taste for the trashy have long considered him their maniac. Waters is a true indie, a guy whose tastes and warped sense of humor never stood a chance of playing in Hollywood, and so he made his own Hollywood in Baltimore, churning out a handful of homemade movies starring his friends, a company of actors who took to calling themselves the Dreamlanders. Perhaps the most famous Dreamlander was Divine, an actor who performed in drag and rose to fame as Waters’s muse, due equally to Divine’s incredible charisma and willingness to waltz into the darkest corners of Waters’s imagination. Divine starred in all of Waters’s early Baltimore films, never more famously (or infamously) as in PINK FLAMINGOES, which uses as its money shot a scene where Divine consumes dog shit. Did I mention that John Waters movies aren’t for the weak-stomached?

Baldly nasty content is what earned all of Waters’s early films an X-rating, when he bothered to have them rated at all. Waters sold himself as a master purveyor of camp, trash and kitsch, and his films can be endurance tests for the timid. So, Waters had to seek his audience, growing them like a culture through word of mouth. Many people watched Waters’s films with jaws dropped and raced from the theatre to tell friends who, of course, could never believe such filth existed at the cinema… and so they bought a ticket to find out for themselves. A passionate few liked what they saw and became fans for life. Waters’s movies owned midnight crowds back when late-night movies were for the deranged and the dangerous, but then a funny thing happened somewhere along the way: once the shock value numbed, fans noticed the actual craft and talent present both behind the camera and in front of it. Despite his image as the gleeful outsider with the pencil-thin moustache looking to tear down the system, Waters was the real deal, and as experience improved his work, his films became less pointedly offensive and more simply on-point. It was time for John Waters to go mainstream.

Enter POLYESTER, the film universally recognized as the transition from Waters’s early days with the Dreamlanders to an artist whose work could eventually be mined by Broadway (his hit 1988 film HAIRSPRAY eventually became a Broadway show, and then a movie musical, with John Travolta in the part originated by Divine. Times, they do change.) POLYESTER is John Waters’s take on the suburban aesthetic and weepy melodrama of Douglas Sirk, with Sirk’s painterly Technicolor tossed aside for garage-sale chic. Divine stars as a housewife named Francine Fishpaw whose marriage falls apart while her kids spin off in a variety of unsavory directions. To fully describe the plot would risk giving away many of its lightly-shocked laughs, but the movie isn’t afraid to explore. The more over-the-top the tragedy—and believe me, this clears the top by a half-a-foot–the more laughter Waters drags from the audience.

POLYESTER was the first John Waters film that could sit comfortably at the multiplex, and his first to receive an R-rating, bringing his work and his fans reluctantly blinking out into the sun. No matter which version of Waters you enjoy the most, generally everyone can agree that POLYESTER is one of his best and most accessible. In fact, The AV Club named POLYESTER as the ideal gateway into the director and his work.

And then there’s ODORAMA, the gimmick Waters cooked up to let his fans know that mainstream success wasn’t going to change him. In a nod to the showmanship of the great huckster William Castle, viewers of POLYESTER were handed scratch-and-sniff cards to keep up with the overactive olfactory system that helps Francine through the film’s plot. Now you can smell what Francine smells, and although the odors are rarely pleasant, the whole idea is just on the right side of wacky to lend the proceedings a heaping helping of charm. It’s Waters saying that it’s OK not to take his movie so seriously; he certainly doesn’t.

Blast-Off Burlesque is handing out ODORAMA cards for Saturday night’s viewing of POLYESTER, and they’re sweetening the deal with their usual variety show of burlesque performance and contests. The Dreamlanders would be proud.

Andrew Kemp is a screenwriter and game writer who started talking about movies in 1984 and got stuck that way. He writes at www.thehollywoodprojects.com and hosts a bimonthly screening series of classic films at theaters around Atlanta.

THE ROAD WARRIOR (1981); Dir: George Miller; Starring Mel Gibson, Bruce Spence, Kjell Nilsson; Wed. Nov. 21 9:30 p.m.; Plaza Theatre; Presented by Astrodog; trailer here.

By Andrew Kemp
Contributing Writer

George Miller’s THE ROAD WARRIOR is the STAR WARS of the post-apocalypse. The film didn’t invent the genre, but it seemed to perfect it and codify it for an entire generation of fans while simultaneously transforming Mel Gibson into a household name, and it’s returning to the big screen for one night only at the Plaza Theatre on November 21 at 9:30 p.m., presented by Astrodog.

One man alone in a wasteland. A growling convoy of modified trucks driven by thieves and thugs. A shantytown built from spare parts and spare people. We’ve seen these elements before, clichés of the post-apocalypse. Whenever we imagine a world-killing event, we tend to assume that society will give it about a week before we all start eating each other. It’s one of the oldest “what ifs” we have. What if tomorrow there was nothing left of the world but ruins, need and violent men?

But THE ROAD WARRIOR uses these familiar elements to create an action movie that transcends the grim parameters of its subject matter, making the end of the world thrilling, exciting, and even… fun. It’s the apocalypse-as-theme-park, but it completely, totally works, and although the film falls squarely in the middle of a larger franchise—the MAD MAX series—it’s easily the best of the bunch.

Gibson stars as Max, a lone warrior simply trying to survive in the aftermath of an unnamed apocalypse. Max’s world has been reduced to a barren desert (and one that looks awfully similar to the Australian outback), and vehicles have become as essential to survival as food and water. That means, naturally, gasoline (a suddenly non-renewable resource) is more precious than gold. In search of gas, Max enters an uneasy alliance with a rusty settlement of survivors, but he faces a tough choice when the town is besieged by brutal bandits led by the Lord Humongous (Nilsson). Will he abandon the town or put his life on the line to defend them? Hint: running away wouldn’t make for much of a movie.

It’s tough to look at Gibson today without getting tangled up in the headlines and scandals that have effectively ended his Hollywood career. It’s pretty clear at this point that Gibson has morphed into a fairly despicable person behind the camera, but his presence in front of the camera is impossible to deny. THE ROAD WARRIOR leaves no room for Max’s backstory, no tender moments to open up to the people around him. He’s nearly silent, a wandering ronin in the wrong place and time, but Gibson’s haunted eyes tell all the story you need. You can feel Max’s loneliness and pain even during the moments where he’s flint-hard. THE ROAD WARRIOR is a movie that doesn’t need its predecessor, but if you know that Max was once a cop and that he lost his family to thugs like Humongous, the extra layers start popping.

Mel Gibson as Mad Max in THE ROAD WARRIOR. Warner Brothers, 1981.

THE ROAD WARRIOR is also one of the crown jewels of raging car movies, a cinematic soulmate to films like DEATH RACE 2000 (1975) or VANISHING POINT (1971). George Miller arrived on the scene during the peak of “Ozploitation,” a golden age of Australian trash cinema that ran throughout the 1970s and ’80s and produced a slew of genre classics, from WAKE IN FRIGHT (1971), to LONG WEEKEND (1978) and DEAD END DRIVE-IN (1986). Miller was playing to an Aussie audience that knew their way around a car chase, and so he doesn’t skimp on the action, stuffing the film full of crunching metal, roaring engines, and cackling villains. The result is entertaining and often mythic. Stripped of its setting, THE ROAD WARRIOR is still a film about one man struggling against unbeatable odds for no other reason than it’s the right thing to do. The timelessness of the story has helped the movie age very well, and, if anything, it’s even more relevant today. Produced in the wake of the gas shortages and transportation nightmares of the 1970s, the film feels especially timely in a world of $4 a gallon gas and feasible projections that say we’ve either neared or reached (and passed) the peak of our oil production. The world of the future may belong to the likes of Humongous.

THE ROAD WARRIOR improved on its less-polished, more visceral predecessor MAD MAX (1979), but the series took a nose dive in the third film, MAD MAX BEYOND THUNDERDOME (1985). After that, Miller’s career went off into a variety of directions. Most recently, he’s been crafting thoughtful (if not entirely successful) fantasy films for children, producing Oscar-nominee BABE (1995) and directing its culty sequel, BABE: PIG IN THE CITY (1998) and both HAPPY FEET (2006) and HAPPY FEET TWO (2011). But that engine you’re hearing is the sound of that changing. Miller has been deep in production on the fourth film in his series, MAD MAX: FURY ROAD, for the last couple of years, replacing Gibson with the younger and suddenly very marketable Tom Hardy. Although the new film isn’t considered a remake or a reboot, it will still serve to introduce the franchise to a new generation of fans. For those who can’t wait that long, THE ROAD WARRIOR was born for the big screen.