Hamster sex. (Cecil B Demented (DVD))

Member Name: peel.rebekah

Product:	Cecil B Demented (DVD)
Date:	13/11/01 (771 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: I'm eating chocolate.

Disadvantages: Animal activists unite against Waters in Hamster Harem Horror.

I'm sure there was a time when 'cult' meant something other than 'slightly sideways of centre' or 'low budget/mass appeal'...maybe it simply meant 'stinkingly bad', who's to say? Anyway, awash with 'cult' propaganda and advertising at the local video shop, my mind wandered most warmly (probably with more respect than is due), to the king of smell-o-rama himself, John Waters...and I waited with baited breath for that bubble of nostalgia to burst.

*The Film.

Cecil B Demented (Stephen Dorff) is a misaligned and dangerously kooky film maker; he holds refuge in a disused cinema with a congregation of Hollywood iconoclasts, all of whom bare tattoos of independent cinema gurus, displaying their dedication to the cause. Cecil's latest resolve is to kidnap the rather dimming starlet, Honey Whitlock (Melanie Griffith), and to craft her into a vindictive and rebellious leading lady for his latest film.

Honey has just finished the filming of a rather schmaltzey piece of cherry pie and is about to attend the premiere: Pre the kidnapping (ala Patricia Hearst (who also has a minor part in the film)) we get to witness the absolute awfulness of her luvey self, as she verbally batters down the rather bored looking Ricki Lake, and unknowingly, her soon to be captors.

The coup goes off with a whizz and a bang - Honey is whisked away to the gang's hideout, and introduced to her new cast and crew. Her haughty gaze of disgust is quick to turn to one of despair as she meets her fellow thespians: The teenage porn star, the almost fluffy Satanist, the misguided straight/gay make up artist, the bearded lady, the constant penis fidget...you get the idea.

After simply a few moments of rehearsals and only one set shoot - as the rest will be filmed in 'realtime' and in real life - Honey is propelled into an anti Hollywood terrorist scenario. The film will be these viscous and real attacks
on the establishment - as well as its own propaganda machine for the cult of Demented - the only question that remains is whether Honey will be ONLY acting at the end of it all.

*The Acting.

Waters has held long and glorious relationships with some rather dubious actors: Although we may all lament the demise of the delicious Divine, we can hardly claim that he was that worthy of an Oscar nomination, and again so here; we have the 'usual' faces cropping up in true Waters style, and yet adding nothing more to the film than their name.

What is probably more interesting than should be (and of mildly more importance than Water would have it), is that the two 'mainstream' actors (Dorff and Griffith) run rings around the other performances - don't get me wrong, their performances are not diamond studded, yet it really does appear that a few years at an acting school may, perchance, aid you later in life as an actor.

Dorff is the slightly scarier side of Brad Pitt in Twelve Monkeys: We know he's crazy, we know he's a guru out of control, and he doesn't have that cheeky little grin of Brad's that persuades us that everything really is all right - rather a background of evil laughter, warning us that this guy really is cuckoo.

It feels like Dorff has been left to his own devices - the same can be said about Griffith as well - and one wonders if the whole art imitating life, imitating art thingy got completely out of control, and Waters simply forgot to direct any of his actors.

Melanie Griffith? Well, can't say I've ever been a fan of hers, and I'm kinda amazed she took this part on, unless, of course, we're coming back to the art imitating life stanza again.

I'm happy enough with her performance here; as I said before, she seems to have got on with the job without too much directorial interference. This does leave the character rather cold, and an audience
with the task of deciphering whether or not we believe a change of morals has occurred within the character, and on what level - but maybe this is an issue that should be leveled at the director and not at the actress.

Alicia Witt (red headed daughter from Cybil) plays the teenage porn star...ahem, my word, Waters should have slapped her round the face with wet fish for giving such a wooden performance - but for those who like their tottie, she does appear on screen with small amounts of coverage and a large sexual appetite (and a hamster).

Other performances are there, including Ricki Lake looking a little on the lardier side, and are absolutely forgettable - apart from Ricki Lake, bien sur, and that's only 'cos we get to see her airing her caring side on Channel 4.

*The Direction.

I started this opinion on an important note: Once upon a time John Waters was the King of Kitsch, the Daddy of doggy poo, a sick mother of a director who knew how and when to pull the shots. Pink Flamingos and Polyester rocked socks off of any other cult film, ever...and yet a certain amount of demise was eminent.

It's understandable, I suppose: It must have been easier to be John Waters when nobody knew who John Waters was; nobody had any expectations, and no bubbles existed out there, waiting to be burst. But one day it had to happen; one day Waters was bound to become aware of his self and his perceived persona...and what a sad day that was, 'cos once he realised and began being introspective, he also began to be self parodying and uncomfortably obvious. He was no longer free simply to make s**t films; he was now famous for making s**t films and he had a reputation to live up to.

Yadda yadda yadda. Pecker was a disappointment, Hairspray was really tense, but I thought Serial Mum was a move back to form. Cecil isn't as bad as so many people would have you believe, but it does have an open and aching wound that
Waters should have tended to: The whole 'let's blow up Hollywood and all it stands for' ideal has a sting in its tail for Waters - after all, here he is with Hollywood golden boy and girl in hand and a rather large budget to boot. Long gone are Waters underground days and shoestring budgets...so why make a movie that tries so hard to emulate to those standards?

Waters hasn't lost his funny bones and his comic timing, but he has managed to get himself neck deep in an analytical situation that should have nothing to do with his work. He also fills the screen with talentless actors and actresses and then fails to direct them in a convincing manner - oh, I know that acting is not THAT important in a Waters film, but the parody of the 'Hollywood' actors versus Waters' mates is just sooo excruciating.

*Conclusion.

Here I am whinging away and I'm failing to tell you that I actually liked this movie. I don't think it deserved to be trashed by the media in the way that it was, and I do think that some of the acting stinks...but that isn't that important.

I'd like to think that Waters was all knowing/all seeing...but I feel that maybe he missed the boat on this one, and while he has been conscious of the 'badness' of many of his films, I feel that perhaps a certain amount of 'badness' in this case was completely beyond his knowledge or control.

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