John Waters

  • Seed of Chucky (2004)

    Seed of Chucky (2004)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, October 2020) I went into Seed of Chucky with very low expectations—I’ve never been taken by the series’ premise, which seemed like a joke carried too far even in the second sequel. Now that Seed of Chucky is the fifth instalment (of eight so far), I didn’t even bother to review my notes about the previous ones—killer doll, with a bride voiced by Jennifer Tilly, is about all I remembered. But as the film started, it became clear that this wasn’t the same kind of film as its first 1988 instalment—moving away from straight-up supernatural slasher to something akin to a bloody comedy, Seed of Chucky clearly spends a lot of time on what surrounds the kills—and is far more interesting when it’s not busy killing off various characters. The film quickly takes on a metafictional quality, as it plays with the notion that the dolls are celebrated Hollywood props, and Jennifer Tilly has a dual role playing herself and voicing the female killer doll. Once their son/daughter comes into the film, the script plays with notions of gender, in between throwing up as many pop-culture references and comically playing with expectations. (If you were expecting “Heeere’s Chucky!” then you’re going to be mildly amused.) Some of the jokes work: John Waters as a paparazzi is fun, the Glen or Glenda gag is amusing, and the technical aspects of the film are not bad. On the other hand, some of the series’ weaknesses remain: Chucky is just as annoying as he was, and some of the coarse humour of the film is more repellent than amusing. Some of the twists and turns are intriguing, but sadly, the film doesn’t quite manage to make it across the finish line: somewhere along the third act, Seed of Chucky disintegrates, perhaps in an attempt to subvert too many expectations. The ending doesn’t quite satisfy and doesn’t quite manage to pull all elements together. The result is still better than I expected at the beginning of the film, but still disappointing in how it introduces a few elements and a more comic tone without quite knowing how to wrap it all up. At least my expectations going into the next segments are back to being comfortably low.

  • Tab Hunter Confidential (2015)

    Tab Hunter Confidential (2015)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, June 2020) Even if you don’t know about Tab Hunter, you can still approach his engaging biography Tab Hunter Confidential with the assurance that you will learn plenty about this 1950s heartthrob whose career waned in the 1970s to the point where he was doing dinner theatre. Fear not: he bounced back in later years thanks to the success of the John Waters film Polyester. But Hunter wasn’t like most other 1950s icons—gay at a time when such things were strictly unacceptable in Hollywood, this difference ends up becoming the structural backbone of the film, as evolving social acceptance ends up reshaping his life and career. Hunter himself makes for a very likable subject, and the arc of his career from the 1940s to the 1980s is an interesting illustration of how things can go wrong for many actors even after hitting the limelight. Well-presented with some ironic footage (“I’m Tab Hunter, and I have a secret”), it sprouts interviews with notables such as George Takei, John Waters and Clint Eastwood, and digitally enhanced archival photos. Executed with more grace and substance than many other celebrity biographies, Tab Hunter Confidential offers a new light on Classic Hollywood, and makes for entertaining viewing as well.

  • Jingle Bell Rocks! (2013)

    Jingle Bell Rocks! (2013)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, February 2019) If you’re looking for a documentary to play while you’re putting up Christmas decoration, you can do far worse than Jingle Bell Rocks!, which studies not only Christmas music but the obsessive collectors (all of them men) of said holiday albums. This is a film about the thrill of hunting through used record stores, the joy of discovering good material among the dreck, and the fun for these collectors of meeting the recording artists. The collectors interviewed for the documentary claim that they’re not obsessive, not crazy and not weird (well, I think some of them may agree that they’re a bit weird) but we don’t care: their enthusiasm and their passion is endearing. Of course, this wouldn’t be a Christmas-themed documentary without exploring our relationship with that holiday. Then there is the music itself, which is a lot like listening to a good mix tape. (And yes, they do talk about mix tapes.) It comes wrapped in a history of Christmas music through the rock generation and into rap—including an extended discussion of one of my own holiday classics, “Christmas in Hollis”, through “Back-Door Santa”. Despite the seemingly straightforward subject matter, there are a lot of surprises in Jingle Bell Rocks! : At any given moment, you’re liable to hear from director John Waters, to touch upon the racial aspect of Christmas iconography, or feature an appearance by Doctor Demento. The climax of the film happens as it works its way to re-create a pivotal song for the film’s lead collector. As I’ve mentioned, Jingle Bell Rocks! is an ideal film to leave on the TV as you’re putting up decorations: It’s great background music, and you can drop in and listen to the film’s highlights at any time.

  • Hairspray (1988)

    Hairspray (1988)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, January 2019) I haven’t seen as many John Waters movies as I’d like yet, but I like what I’ve seen so far, and Hairspray seems to package his iconoclastic outlook in a very audience-friendly package. Set in early-1960s Baltimore, it focuses on a curvy teenager (play by the very cute Rikki Lake) who comes to compete against more conventionally beautiful girls in a dance pageant and break down the city’s racial segregation. The square targets are broad and easy, but the film does have an exaggerated fun factor clearly crossing over in camp aesthetics. Breaking from his most transgressive fare, Waters here offers a slightly subversive look at an earlier generation in the form of a musical comedy. The music is quite good, and the white perspective means that Hairspray is accessible to a very wide audience that can laugh at the heavy-handed racism. (It does remain aimed at a white audience, though—fine for the 1980s, maybe a bit limited in the 2010s.) It’s simply a lot of fun, and the good music means that it’s got replay value as well.

  • Cry-Baby (1990)

    Cry-Baby (1990)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, November 2017) Iconoclast writer/director John Waters takes on the 1950s teenage musical comedy with Cry-Baby, and the result is just as proudly weird as anything else from his filmography. The satirical intent is obvious, but so is the affectionate attempt at recreating a lineage that goes from Rebel Without a Cause to Grease, perhaps beginning with Romeo and Juliette. High on camp, Cry-Baby endures today partially because it’s a send-up that doesn’t betray its inspirations, and because it features Johnny Depp in intentional teenage-idol mode. It’s not always interesting: the opening half does push far too much in the freak-and-geeks-are-the-true-cool-people direction, and there’s strong feeling of déjà vu throughout it all. The affection for the grotesque can be off-putting even to the most iconoclast audiences—Kim McGuire’s bravura performance as “Hatchet-face” is the kind of thing liable to make everyone uncomfortable even as the discomfort is the joke. (On a related note: Do read up on Kim McGuire for an amazing life.) Still, the film does pick up a bit of steam toward the end, with a spirited “Please, Mr. Jailer” number leading to a good court scene and a classic teen-movie climax. It’s definitely not for everyone, but it’s not a bad time at all. Cry-Baby’s French dubbed version combines the best of both worlds by thankfully not translating the songs, and adding a delightful layer of French slang over fictional Fifties teen-speak—I recommend the result to everyone who understands even a bit of French.

  • Cecil B. Demented (2000)

    Cecil B. Demented (2000)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, December 2000) Very uneven satire of the Hollywood movie industry. Though John Waters is revered for his irreverence, Cecil B. Demented seems more like a half-hearted routine satire than a definitive statement on the industry. The best part of the film, aside from some great lines (“Patch Adams doesn’t deserve a director’s cut! It’s long enough as it is!”) is the endearingly kooky troupe of guerrilla filmmakers characters. They promise a much stronger film than what is ultimately presented here, as their innate interest is trampled by a script that simply goes through the motions. The low production values often show and hamper some scenes. The conclusion feels forced and somewhat immature. Film buffs, needless to say, will get much more out of the film than the “average moviegoers” that Cecil B. Demented is lambasting. Worth a rental whenever you’re at the video store and can’t stomach yet another syrupy Hollywood product.

    (Second Viewing, On Cable TV, January 2021) I was curious to revisit Cecil B. Demented after twenty years of film education, now that I can reliably recognize the directors whose names are referenced by the band of cinematic rebels at the heart of the film. The plot is simple enough, as movie outlaws kidnap a Hollywood star in order to force her to star in their guerilla-style production. The real point of the film is to allow writer-director John Waters to rail against the worst aspects of circa-2000 Hollywood (which have only been magnified twenty years later), with blatant messages inserted in the mouths of its speaking characters. It’s surprisingly fun, especially at first: This isn’t meant to be a polished or subtle production, and the rough-hewn charm of its explicit message is part of the film’s entertainment. Cecil B. Demented’s first half, in particular, is quite a bit of fun: Stephen Dorff leads an adorable bunch of misfits, each of them identifying as a rebellious director in cinema history. There’s some serious fun in seeing a young Maggie Gyllenhaal as a Satanist, or an equally baby-faced Michael Shannon as a gay driver. The first half of the film is heavy on jokes and comic wackiness, and stands above the second half, as Waters doesn’t seem to have as good a conclusion in mind for his crew. The deaths pile up, the jokes become cheaper, the suspension of disbelief snaps. Perhaps the film does itself a disservice by being insufficiently caricatural—there’s a clash between Waters’s wilder ideas and gritty cinematography of the film that keeps bringing the film back in the real world where it doesn’t belong. The conclusion seems engineered to be unsatisfying, perhaps betraying the corner in which Waters wrote himself in taking potshots—his rebels aren’t created to have a happy ending. Still, I had a bit of fun in watching Cecil B. Demented now that I can better appreciate where it’s coming from—but it’s not anywhere near to fulfilling its potential.