Has there ever been a filmmaker more enamoured with being labelled as a peddler of filth than John Waters? He has certainly made quite the career from shocking and provoking audiences, to the point where the iconic Pope of Trash has found himself becoming respectable after decades of being viewed as someone who was far more interested in making films that were uncomfortable and repulsive, a fact that even surprises the director himself. As part of our ongoing exploration of his career, we now come to the end of his body of work in terms of feature films, and it seemed only appropriate to save the lost position for the film that essentially started his career (or at least brought him to the public’s attention more than his previous short films – his original aim was to make Dorothy the Kansas City Pothead his first major film, but that was abandoned after only a day or two of filming), his feature-length debut Mondo Trasho, one of his rarest and most demented films. The film, which is formed in the style of the mondo genre that was very popular in underground cinema at the time, is a fictionalized documentary that aims to be an observation into the trials and tribulations of people who reside on the other side of the proverbial tracks, the deranged and sordid individuals who represent the less ideal version of society. The protagonists are The Bombshell, a mild-mannered woman making her way through suburban Baltimore on what she imagines to be an ordinary day of debauchery, and Divine, another glamorous woman who accidentally knocks the Bombshell down with her car, rendering her unconscious and requiring Divine to find a way to revive her before she is caught for partaking in a hit-and-run, leading to a series of bizarre events. A strange and wild film that only someone with the perverse worldview of Waters could even conceive, Mondo Trasho is a remarkable debut and the perfect encapsulation of the directors’ gifts, which were clearly present from the very beginning.

One of the most common excuses prospective directors have for not taking the leap and picking up a camera to make their films is the lack of resources or funding. It is true that finances are important for any film, but Waters proved that this should not be the determining factor when someone has aspirations to enter the industry. Amongst his many artistic virtues, he is considered a patron saint of the low-budget feature, since he refused to allow something as trivial as a lack of money to stand in the way of his artistic expression. His early short films were cobbled together from nothing more than spare change, and while Mondo Trasho had a slightly higher budget in comparison, it was still produced on a shoestring, and yet remains one of the most ambitious and daring debuts of the era. As far as Waters is concerned, a lack of a budget is not an obstacle but rather an opportunity to experiment, and not many directors have been more fervent in their belief that necessity breeds innovation, we find that his efforts to make this film are far more intriguing than they would have been with a larger set of resources. The low-budget aesthetic is very obvious and certainly inescapable, but it contributes to the overall experience, since the gritty, cheaply-produced visuals, coupled with a soundtrack composed of some of the biggest hits of the era (with the exorbitant music rights being the main reason why the film has never been restored or released in any official format) makes for a disorienting experience. It is difficult to pinpoint exactly what it is that makes this such a complex and engaging film, but its bold structure and willingness to tell a story that is certainly not conventional, in a manner even more unorthodox than we would expect, is certainly one of the most endearing traits.

Some of his detractors have used Mondo Trasho as an example of Waters’ supposed inability to tell a coherent story and his tendency towards just stringing together a dozen of the most repulsive scenes and labelling it as a film. Mercifully this perception has changed over time, and many look at this film as the perfect embodiment of his earlier work, which was not necessarily driven by plot but rather guided by the atmosphere of sordid depravity and the most lovable kind of debauchery. There is still a storyline, it is merely just very thin and somewhat inconsequential in comparison to the mood that the director attempts to spread over the film. Waters is intent on deconstructing the nature of society in a way that is daring and unconventional, refusing to soften his unconventional vision in favour of something more traditional. His fascination throughout all of his films is the deconstruct the very nature of society, going against the supposedly sacrosanct conventions of polite behaviour and elegant art by entirely subverting the status quo. Throughout this film, we see chickens beheaded and acts of sexual perversion conducted in broad daylight. Religion is lampooned and politics ridiculed, and absolutely no one is safe from the artistic provocation that Waters so gleefully provides throughout this film. It is very important that the audience doesn’t attempt to make sense of the film – the plot is simple enough to follow, but the many diversions into other ideas don’t always come across as being particularly coherent, which means that the only way to truly engage with this film is through surrendering to the madness and allowing its more unconventional ideas to place us in the most delightful of stupors.

One of the most appreciated aspects of Waters’ work over his career is that he started making films with his friends, and he retained them as the core casts of many of his projects going forward, giving them all a sense of consistency and intimacy in terms of artistic collaboration. Mondo Trasho features some of his most memorable collaborators – Mary Vivian Pearce is the doomed Bombshell who goes from being the prey of the local pervert to the victim of a reckless driver, played by the always brilliant Divine in one of his most daring performances. Divine in particular proves himself to be one of the great actors of his generation – despite the low-budget nature of the film, and the fact that he was playing such a thinly veiled caricature, he commands the screen and delivers a performance that is steeped so heavily in melodrama and excess, it is impossible to not be at least partially enamoured with the bold swings he was taking. In a long career filled with collaborations with some of the greatest actors of the period, Divine will always remain the one actor who represented Waters’ unique and daring perspective, more than anyone else. Mondo Trasho is filled with other members of the Dreamlanders, including Mink Stole and David Lochary who appear in smaller but not any less memorable parts – the former as a malicious gossip who begins to spread misinformation about the protagonist, the latter the most deranged of doctors who is responsible for one of the most hilariously shocking scenes in Waters’ entire oeuvre. They were all still relatively new to the art of acting, and none of them had much experience – but much like the visual approach, this raw style is actually a merit, since it fits in perfectly with the themes that Waters is examining, particularly those that relate directly to the underlying themes of depravity and social terror that are vital to the identity of the film.

Mondo Trasho is not a film that is easy to discuss, not necessarily due to the subject matter, but rather the fact that it’s such a strange and unconventional film, finding a particular entry-point to the broader conversation is quite challenging. This is not a film that follows a traditional narrative arc, and while the story itself is relatively simple, the general perspective we get as viewers is that the plot is mostly unimportant when it comes to the brilliance of the film. Instead, it’s the subversive structure and unconventional diversions into other themes that make the film so intriguing, drawing us into this chaotic world, one that is driven by carnal desire and a deep, disquieting glimpse into the more sordid underbelly of polite society. Not as well-formed as his later works, but still bordering on revolutionary in terms of both narrative and visual approach, Mondo Trasho is a vital step to understanding both Waters’ career development as well as his eventual ascent to the forefront of the independent film movement, which he helped develop in his unconventional way, particularly through how he challenges the artistic traditions that he found dull and inconsequential. Harsh but brilliant in both style and substance, and driven by nothing but pure artistic anarchy, Mondo Trasho is a masterpiece of trash cinema and a worthy start to one of the great film careers of the 20th century.