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CECIL B. DEMENTED
In shallow Waters The demented director loses some steam in his parody of Hollywood
By Jack Garner (August 25, 2000) -- Rebel movies, bad taste, gender-bender sex, Baltimore locales, Patricia Hearst and Mink Stole -- all the standard John Waters elements are present and accounted for in his new comedy. It's a slightly sicko, anti-Hollywood satire called Cecil B. Demented. For once, though, the Waters flair is diminished by an aura of self-righteousness -- something the Trash Master has steadfastly sidestepped in the past. There's probably just enough of the demented Waters' edge and elements to please most of his fans, but not enough to put this among his best work. Filming again in his hometown, Waters has fashioned a comedy about a gang of young guerrilla filmmakers who kidnap Hollywood star Honey Whitlock (Melanie Griffith) and force her at gunpoint to star in their shot-on-the-run no-budget movie. Griffith is a smart choice for the role and gleefully gets into the diva attitude, as well as the changes that occur when she's reborn as a rebel. At the helm of her new film is the wacky, spiked-hair, would-be auteur, Cecil B. Demented (Stephen Dorff), a blend of Charles Manson and Andy Warhol, with enough of Otto Preminger to know, generally, where to point the camera. He has assembled a patchwork cast and crew of society cast-offs and ne'er-do-wells, including a former porn queen (Alicia Witt), a drugged-up Method actor (Adrian Grenier) and a hairdresser (Jack Noseworthy) ashamed to be the only heterosexual hairdresser in the movie business. Together, they mouth anti-establishment platitudes, such as "Hey, hey, hey, MPAA, how many movies did you censor today" -- and disrupt screenings of Patch Adams, the Director's Cut and the Baltimore locations of a new Hollywood sequel, Gump Again, in which Forrest discovers that life is like soft-shell crabs. They also take a vow of celibacy, swearing to "save sexual energy for celluloid," which only makes them the most sex-obsessed crew in the industry. Soon, of course, Honey Whitlock sides with her kidnappers and joins them on their independent-movie crusade. Waters again demonstrates his longstanding fascination with the Patty Hearst kidnapping saga, in which she eventually joined in her kidnappers' activities. And, for the fourth time, Waters also casts Hearst in a small role, playing a filmmaker's mother. She might have been a fascinating kidnapping victim, but she's a horrible actress. Waters also briefly employs Mink Stole, a Baltimore actress who's had cameos in all his films. Here, she's a society matron. After a fabulous opening -- a funny, action-packed guerrilla attack on a Hollywood premiere -- Cecil B. Demented gradually loses momentum. Waters has a clever premise, but the target's a bit too easy to hit. Waters struggles to keep up the momentum, finally running out of steam in a slapdash finale, at a Baltimore area drive-in theater. Since 1988's Hairspray catapulted Waters from cult figure to the mainstream, he's frequently had trouble balancing what's hilariously offensive with what's acceptable to his newer broad audience. Veteran Waters fans will find Demented tame, while newer viewers may find it gross, especially in an extended porno-theater sequence. It's ironic that a film in praise of uncompromising filmmaking makes a few compromises itself.
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