Interview with John Waters: From the lunatic fringe to the ‘extreme middle’

Although his outrageous, boundary-pushing comedies earned him the monikers “Prince of Puke” and “Pope of Trash,” filmmaker John Waters, who turns 80 this year, finds it harder to shock in a world where extremism has become the new normal.

“So, I’m proudly an insane person in ‘the middle’ for the first time in my life,” he said.

Waters is currently on tour with his one-person show, “Going to Extremes,” which comes to The Lensic Performing Arts Center on Tuesday, March 24. In it, he celebrates what he calls “the extreme middle.”

Not quite stand-up, not quite spoken word or performance art, Waters touted the show as “a religious ceremony for the insane” and “a sermon, preaching to the converted, as we celebrate the joy of bad taste — spiritually.”

Bad taste is a subject near and dear to Waters’ heart. He wrote the book on it — literally — the critically acclaimed collection of personal essays, “Shock Value: A Tasteful Book about Bad Taste,” first published in 1981, which legitimized the strategic use of “bad taste” as high art, influencing generations of punk and queer artists and independent filmmakers.

Now, 44 years later, Waters said the unironic bad taste of President Donald J. Trump and first lady Melania Trump have ruined the fun of bad taste for everyone.

“Her (Melania’s) Christmas decorations, and the new documentary about her will be the final nail in the coffin of celebrating bad taste,” he said. “There’s no ‘good’ bad taste anymore. (They) have ruined even that.”

So, what does it mean to be part of “the extreme middle”?

“It means that we can’t stand people who are humor-impaired,” Waters said. “If you want to change somebody’s mind, you don’t make the enemy feel stupid, even when they are.”

He noted that even racists liked his 1988 musical comedy “Hairspray.”

“They were so stupid they didn’t realize it was against them,” he said.

But he got them to laugh, which is the first step in winning hearts and minds.

“We have to make our enemy laugh. That’s the only way. Then, they listen to you, and then you have sex with them — kind of like the Moonies did,” Waters joked. “We have to do that politically, and use humor — not preaching to people. I think that never works. It makes them go in the opposite direction.”

Over the course of his career, Waters, the underground film provocateur, has gained a level of respectability he never anticipated in his youth. His films “Hairspray” and “Pink Flamingos” were added to the U.S. Library of Congress’ National Film Registry, and his low-budget 1970 black comedy “Multiple Maniacs” was rereleased in 2016 by Janus Films, a venerable film distribution company associated with highbrow European cinema.

“When I saw that logo that I grew up on from (François) Truffaut and (Ingmar) Bergman, presenting ‘Multiple Maniacs’ — it was a shock for me to see that,” Waters said.

How does Waters keep his edge?

“You have to challenge yourself,” Waters said. “When I was 70 years old, I took LSD again, which I hadn’t done for 50 years. ... It’s good to take it as you get older, (because) if your family thinks you have dementia, you can just say, ‘I’m tripping.’”

He also said he has “youth spies” who keep him abreast of new music and cultural trends, and he consciously avoids nostalgia.

“I don’t think I had more fun in the ’60s when I was young,” Waters said, “and I think people are having just as much fun getting laid in Minneapolis in a riot today.”

Waters’ fan base, he often says, are “minorities who can’t even fit in with their own minorities.” While his films and books are infused with a queer sensibility, he considers much of old-school gay culture “too square.”

“The nonbinary world today is the new sexual revolution,” he said. “They could say, ‘We’re not queer, we’re here and nobody’s used to it.’ And I think that would be politically correct.”

Waters hopes people come to the show with an open mind.

“I hope I’ll make you laugh, and in that laughter, you’ll listen and open your mind and try to consider that there’s a reason for everybody’s behavior,” Waters said. “Maybe you weren’t lucky. Maybe you were unlucky and had a horrible family. Maybe you were lucky and got a good one. But life isn’t fair, and as soon as you begin to accept that — you can whine about how you were raised until you’re 30 years old. After that, get over it. Life isn’t fair. Stop complaining. Move on with the hand you were dealt.”

Logan Royce Beitmen is an arts writer for the Albuquerque Journal. He covers visual art, music, fashion, theater and more. Reach him at lbeitmen@abqjournal.com or on Instagram at @loganroycebeitmen.