Have yourself a John Waters Christmas
It's the sleaziest time of the year
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John Waters has spent his multi-decade career wallowing in everything from drag queens eating dog shit to snot fetishists, but beneath that tendency toward depravity beats the heart of a genuine traditionalist. An outspoken evangelist for kitsch and camp culture, Waters consistently points to the lowest-common denominator as the soul of "real America"—and when else is America at its most “real” if not during Christmas? The combination of crass commercialization and pseudo-pagan pageantry draped haphazardly over Jesus' origin story provides heaping tons of tacky novelties and surrealist traditions that should tickle any cultural trash collector. And from the secret sexual thrills of sitting on Santa's lap to the deeply inhumane bargain-ferreting of Black Friday, it's little wonder John Waters is such a fan of the season—so much so that he’s staging his very own holiday fete this Saturday at the Paramount. To prepare, here are some of Waters’ tips for getting in the filthy, outré spirit, culled from his oft-circulated essay, “Why I Love Christmas.” Because as Waters himself says, "If you don't have yourself a merry little Christmas, you might as well kill yourself."
“Go deeply in debt over Christmas shopping.”
It's best to ignore anyone who asserts that Christmas has some higher meaning beyond giving and receiving (but mostly receiving) store-bought goods, in what Waters terms the “jubilee of consumerism.” The foreplay to that orgy of unwrapping is, of course, Christmas cards—which the truly DIY director insists should be handmade, lest you end up being tacky in all the wrong ways. As for the main event, Waters advises that you should "always spend in exact correlation to how much you like the recipient." [A.V. Club tip: Don’t forget to adjust for the recession and any stupid things they may have said this year.] And if John Waters has taught us anything about Christmas, it's that if your daughter asks for cha-cha heels, you better damned well get her a pair.
“The real holy trinity is God the father, the son, and the holy Santa Claus.”
The service that Santa Claus (“or as he is known in Japan, Annual Gift Man”) provides to the seedier members of our society is invaluable: As Waters says, “Where else can drunks and fat people get temporary work?” And as the worldwide tradition Santacon demonstrates, most any kind of human debasement gets a free pass when it comes cloaked in a Santa suit. While Waters warns that lying to your kids about Santa is a gateway to inevitable heroin addiction (“All the stern warnings on the perils of drugs carry the same credibility as flying reindeer or fat men in your chimney”), he can also serve as an important formative “erotic figure,” ensuring your child will someday have years and years of festive fantasy play kissing “mommy” under the mistletoe and “taking the whip like a good reindeer.”
"Forget White Christmas, It's A Wonderful Life, and all the other hackneyed trash."
Instead, Waters advises you to “go for the classics: Silent Night, Bloody Night, Black Christmas, or the best seasonal film of all time, Christmas Evil." (As luck would have it, Christmas Evil—with director Lewis Jackson in attendance—screens at the Alamo Drafthouse on the same day as Waters' very own Christmastime classic, Female Trouble.) "I wish I had kids," Waters says of Evil. "I'd make them watch it every year, and if they didn't like it, they'd be punished."
“Ring doorbells, and when the Father Knows Best-type family answers, start screeching hostilely your favorite carol.”
Nothing can turn the holidays into Chinese water torture faster than an endless barrage of Christmas Muzak forcing alternately snoozy and bombastic glurge down our collective chimney. The antidote: Waters’ 2004 CD, A John Waters Christmas, on which he collects his favorite wonderfully obscure Christmas songs that should get you ready to terrorize the neighborhood with your off-color caroling. (“Especially if you're old, a drug addict, an alcoholic, or obviously homosexual and have a lot of effeminate friends.”) While Waters avows, “‘Santa Claus Is A Black Man’ is my favorite Christmas carol,” he also has a soft spot for The Barking Dogs’ “Jingle Bells” and the profanity-laced “Here Comes Fatty Claus”—two tunes that should help you take the inner torment of hearing Josh Groban sing “O Holy Night” yet again and inflict that shit outward. ’Tis the season for sharing, after all.
