Review of Pink Flamingos (1972) by Edward S — 16 May 2012

If you're a fan of camp, inane children's book dialogue, tastelessness for the sake of tastelessness, gratuitous everything, filthy filthy filth, and you can't get enough that you need to have an hour and a half of it, then John Water's "Pink Flamingos" is your fetish-induced wet dream. However, if you don't relatively care for any of those things, then stay away. Far, far away. The phallic kielbasas, feet fetishes, boxes of turd, goatse beta, and many, many, many other moments will testify.

For whatever it's worth, John Waters has made a "film" of incessant amusement. His quirky attitude-laced narration, documentary styled filming, sense of fun in sleazy exploitation like little children who have just learned their first naughty or curse words, eccentric soundtrack, and endless personal touches in the screenplay guarantee any viewer to be intrigued. I don't feel very secure or even justified to recommend this film to anybody, but if you really feel the compulsion to watch a film that is so dynamically bad on purpose then go right ahead. Just don't complain about it afterwards.