How do you begin talking about Pink Flamingos in a way that captures not only the spirit of the film, but offers insights into the impact that it had on the industry? The answer is quite simply that you can’t – this is a film about which nearly everything has been written. Critiques of its artistic style and cinematic contributions, academic articles about its importance within the world of queer artistry, and multiple condemnations that are even more entertaining when you realize how they only prove the point John Waters was aiming to make when he set forward to make this film, which has pervaded through the culture in a way that few other films have ever been able to achieve (not that all that many have put in nearly a fraction of the effort that went into making works that will be remembered long after the viewer has walked away), and become the subject of folklore. One of the most daring and provocative films to ever be made – which in itself feels like a malicious understatement in itself – Pink Flamingos is an experience like no other – a rite of passage for film lovers with a perverse sense of humour, a masterwork in queer rebellion, and a deep and disconcerting voyage into the mind of one of cinema’s true revolutionaries, a director who has maintained his status as one of our true originals. He has earned the numerous titles that have been bestowed on him over the years, proudly carrying the mantle of Pope of Trash and Sultan of Sleaze like a badge of honour, and it can all be traced back to Pink Flamingos, which may not have been his first film, nor is it necessarily his best, but rather the one that not only put his work on the map, but signified his indelible impact on an industry and audience that was not yet ready for his delightful perversions – and there is an argument that they still aren’t prepared, since it seems like this film continues to shock and delight new viewers, who doubtlessly encounter the mythology that surrounds the film and choose to willingly subject themselves to this pure insanity, which is an experience few will ever forget, for better or worse.

Has there ever been a filmmaker whose entire brand has been so defined by his admiration for the most repulsive content imaginable more than Waters? There aren’t many directors who exude such impeccable confidence in their craft as him, and the results are rarely anything less than absolutely astonishing, granted we are able to make it far enough into his films to reap the rewards of persevering through his wicked vision. Pink Flamingos is certainly not a film for the faint of heart – it seems obvious to say this, but even fifty years later, this is a film that is as shocking and perverse today as it was when it was released, which is quite an achievement, considering modern culture is quite desensitized to a lot of violence, foul language and raw sexual imagery, all of which are the foundations for this film. Debauchery isn’t merely something that interests Waters – it’s his raison d’etre and the aspect that fuels almost all of his work (even if some may say that he became slightly less jagged as he matured, choosing to make more polished films that still skirted the edges of decency), and Pink Flamingos is ultimately the convergence of nearly all of his curiosities, being a film built on the idea of using filth as an artistic choice. In the same way Billy Wilder used humour and Douglas Sirk used melodrama, filth and depravity are tools that Waters utilize to get a particular message across, one that focuses on his fascination with the moral corruption that lingered beneath every society, particularly the one in which he grew up, which launched a new bout of interest in Baltimore, which Waters almost single-handedly made a city of global infamy due to his films, which presented a far darker image of suburban life than many other films that we had seen previously, which seemed to be the reason Waters was so invested in asserting his artistic vision, which was drawn from his own middle-class upbringing and his macabre sense of humour and penchant for the crude and vulgar, which manifest in every frame of his films, Pink Flamingos being the apex of his adoration for bad taste, a concept that he worked laboriously to redefine as something with sincere artistic resonance.

The challenge when it comes to speaking about films that carry with them such an immensely famous reputation is that we are inclined towards masquerading as objective, criticizing it like we would any other film, giving it a fair assessment and looking at it as an artistic work on its own. Logically, this is what it takes to write about film – but the reality is, we are rarely fully objective, and when it comes to a film like Pink Flamingos, its legacy is precisely what has propelled it to the status of being such an important work. Cult cinema may not have been pioneered with this film (since underground art had existed for decades), but it was certainly given a new boost as more viewers started to realize that art does not need to adhere to any rules – and viewers didn’t need to actively seek these works out any longer, since Waters and his demented cohorts brought it to them directly, plotting to sweep through the nation, corrupting one audience at a time as more people started to discover the insidious brilliance of this film. What makes Pink Flamingos (as well as nearly everything Waters has made) so extraordinarily special is its earnestness – there are far too many filmmakers in recent years that are using their platform to express their dark sense of humour, shocking audiences for the sake of inciting a reaction. There is always some degree of perverse pleasure in unsettling the status quo when it comes to Waters, but it never felt like it was just a matter of shock value without substance – he is an artist who genuinely and wholeheartedly believes that what he is putting on screen is exceptional art forged from his passionate, spirited commitment to his work, and even at its most shocking, it’s easy to sense that authentic affection the director felt for Pink Flamingos and the people who contributed to its creation.

Then there was Divine. There are many examples of directors working closely with their muses and drawing inspiration from them. However, there are few in which the existence of this muse was entirely necessary to the director’s existence as a whole. Without Divine, there would not be a John Waters, at least not the version of him we cherish today. Childhood friends who decided to get into the business of filmmaking after dabbling in it throughout their younger years, they were the epitome of a director-actor duo that worked together with such intensely symbiotic chemistry, they were responsible for defining an entire generation of artists, helping secure them in their identity and prove that being offbeat and having a love for the alternative side of life was not something shameful. Divine was a genuinely gifted actor, and his efforts to push himself as a performer are well-documented. However, absolutely nothing he did will ever be considered even marginally as iconic as his performance as Babs Johnson in Pink Flamingos. The garish makeup, distinctive costumes and his delivery of the many iconic lines in the film (“Kill everyone now! Condone first-degree murder! Advocate cannibalism! Eat sh*t! Filth is my politics! Filth is my life!” is one of the most memorable line readings in film history) – these are the foundations of a truly revolutionary performance, the kind that becomes entirely definitive of an entire generation, who saw themselves reflected in this film to some degree, not in the sense of being nearly as perverted as these characters, but rather existing on the margins of what is considered normal. Pink Flamingos is filled with eccentric characters who define the concept of going against what is seen as conventional, but unapologetically and quintessentially individual to their own desires and ambitions – perhaps its too liberal of a reading, and gives slightly more credence to the film as a social statement than it perhaps warrants, but there is a reason why Divine’s performance (as well as those of several other actors that constituted members of the Dreamlanders) has retained such cultural cache, making him a counterculture icon to match any other in the past.

Pink Flamingos does not push boundaries – it takes the entire principle of social order and decorum, and annihilates it, piecing together the most perverse and uncomfortable fragments to form a horrifying but brilliant satire that is as repulsive as it is hypnotic. It wasn’t enough to just shock – there needed to be some motivation behind it, and while Pink Flamingos is relatively thin when it comes to plot (the concept of two feuding families trying to overtake the other to become known as “the filthiest people alive” is such a simple but quintessential premise for Waters), there was a lot of detail in how he creates this nightmarish but outrageously funny depiction of society, which adds depth to a film many consider to be relentlessly crude without having any foundation. To understand the appeal of Pink Flamingos is to undergo a delicate process of both surrendering to the sheer absurdity of the film, as well as appreciating it on both an artistic and philosophical level. Contrary to what many consider to be true about the film, which is often constructed as nothing but pure narrative chaos, there is a method to the madness of the film, and Waters navigates a set of themes with a razor-sharp precision that only becomes clear once we look beneath the surface. There is a concept known as “queering” the culture, where an artist from a group known to be outside the heteronormative or patriarchal status quo, finds their way into a position of having a strong authorial voice, from which they are able to present a very different depiction of society through a perspective inspired by their identity. It’s not a surprise that Pink Flamingos has been appreciated as a queer masterpiece, one appreciated by the broader community, who find the representation of misfits and outcasts oddly endearing, as well as showing that there can be a place for those who don’t quite fit in – but Waters obviously avoids hammering on this topic too much (we can even question if it was intentional as a whole), instead drawing our attention to the absurd humour, which has become a foundation of the queer community in itself, with this wickedly funny and deeply depraved portrayal of the darker side of suburbia striking a chord with countless viewers who find solace in the realization that fitting in is not always ideal.

It seems almost hackneyed to use words like “poor taste” and “transgressive” to describe a film like Pink Flamingos, since these are not adjectives used to critically analyse it, but rather objective markers of its identity as a film, as well as the role it played in defining half a century of filmmaking, with its unique approach in terms of both form and content being truly defining beyond the confines of being a film. Since its release, we’ve seen so many imitations and homages – the images have become ingrained in the culture, and there are often attempts to recapture the raw energy of this film, whether in terms of how films push boundaries, or simply efforts to shock and terrifying viewers in the hopes of creating the next cult classic. However, these all pale in comparison to the genuine article, and all these years later, Pink Flamingos remains a cornerstone of multiple different corners of the culture – as an underground cult film, there are few better examples of a film defying the odds and becoming successful, not in spite of the controversy it inspired, but as a result of it. It is vitally important in looking at the development of independent film – Waters’ do-it-yourself approach to filmmaking, coupled with his very resourceful use of sets, actors and other elements, makes him a figure that any amateur director can admire. It’s a touchstone of the queer community, who have embraced this perverse love letter to the oddballs and freaks that populate our society, handcrafted by someone who has been canonized as the de facto leader of society’s oddballs, having made a career scratching around the furthest corners of decency and creating masterpieces from the jagged fragments he found in the process. There will never be another film like Pink Flamingos, which is both a tragedy and a blessing, since no one will be able to reach this level of pure debauchery and artistic chaos ever again, a fact for which we should be both profoundly thankful and deeply mournful, since in both theory and execution, it is a singular work that redefined art in its own small but significant way.