A Dirty Shame:
NC-17 Theatrical Version

John Waters is something of an enigma. He deals with perverse characters and perverse topics but he's constantly accused of being too sweet. He used to be criticized for his lack of technical skill, now he's criticized for having too much. It's understandable, then, that Waters is suffering from something of an identity crisis these days. With A Dirty Shame, he's clearly attempting to reclaim his gross-out credentials but, in spite of an NC-17 rating and endless references to obscure sexual perversions, this is one of the most conservative-minded films he's ever made.

That's all part of the joke in this parody of sexual prudishness that never manages to achieve the heights it's aiming for. Still, Waters' central idea is good. A conservative, small-town community goes out of control when people start suffering concussions that transform them into nymphomaniacs. A sexual-healing cult leader, Ray Ray (Johnny Knoxville), seizes the opportunity and tries to guide the community to sexual enlightenment. Meanwhile, the town's religious-minded "neuters" resist and, before long, complete chaos breaks out.

Digging through the archives, Waters and his collaborators have unearthed some hilarious movies clips and sex-themed pop song oddities -- more than anything, Waters is a pop culture historian -- but, other than that, this is a misguided, poorly realized hybrid of Waters' Serial Mom and Cecil B. Demented. Waters has never had much command of tone or comic timing but he's usually able to get by on the strength of weirdness alone. Unfortunately, this film lacks the conceptual discipline to succeed on those terms.

But who cares about the movie? This disc is all about extras and, thankfully, New Line has treated the film with far more respect than it deserves. This is a John Waters film so, of course, the best feature is a commentary by the iconic madman himself. Waters has recorded commentaries for almost all of his films -- New Line has boxed 7 of these together in conjunction with the release of this disc -- and, as someone who has actually listened to all of these commentaries, I think it's safe to say that he's one of the masters of the form. Waters' track on A Dirty Shame is rock solid with his usual assortment of bizarre pop culture anecdotes, unorthodox research stories, and assorted scatological odds-and-ends.

The other major feature is All the Dirt on A Dirty Shame, a hit-and-miss feature length documentary about the making of the film. If this had been distilled to its best 45 minutes, it might have been a real treat. Instead, we get something fascinating and ridiculous but also inconsistent and sloppy. There are plenty of funny stories, though, and, if nothing else, this confirms that Baltimore is one of the strangest places in the United States. For instance, Waters had no problem finding three actors who were a "bear" trio in real life -- Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and Baby Bear -- for comparable bear roles in the film. Very bizarre.

We also get a crew commentary which is entertaining but disposable. All of this material is extracted from interviews -- some of it is actually included in the documentary -- conducted before the participants had seen the film. As a result, the emphasis is on personality, not substance. The personalities of two Waters veterans stand-out: production designer Vincent Peranio and casting director Pat Moran. Moran's grouchy, jaded, know-it-all attitude is completely over-the-top. It's rare that a minute passes without her correcting or criticizing Peranio but she's totally entertaining, nonetheless. I don't know why but it's nice to hear these two old friends bicker.

Finally, we get several theatrical trailers (for this and other Waters films), a soundtrack listing, DVD-ROM features, and a deleted scene in which Johnny Knoxville performs fellatio on his trouser snake (you'll have to see the film to understand this). On the crew commentary, it's revealed that this moment of pure, uninhibited Knoxville madness actually made it into the French theatrical release of the film.

John Waters is really the definition of a cult filmmaker and his cast/crew literally behaves like a cult, making films that are increasingly about cults. If you're a member of the Waters cult, this disc shouldn't disappoint. The film, on the other hand...well, that's another story. -- Jonathan Doyle