ABSTRACT

THE FILTHIEST PEOPLE ALIVE: PRODUCTIONS OF URBAN SPACES AND POPULATIONS IN THE FILMS OF JOHN WATERS

by Dennis Wayne Everette

Within society, a variety of attitudes concerning urbanized spaces exists. Some people adore cities while others detest them. More specifically, there is often a fear of those that dwell in the city. These perceptions are based on difference of class, race, sexuality, or deviance from the constructed social norm. The portrayal of cities in film, both negatively and positively, is a well-established trend. This thesis offers insight into perceptions of the city, its spaces and culture, by bringing together processes of othering, abjection, socio-spatial exclusion, and territoriality to try to explain fear and apprehension of urban space. Cinematic film is a valuable source of geographic knowledge, and John Waters’ work speaks to urban spaces and inhabitants deemed undesirable by the hegemonic groups in society. This thesis elucidates his production of the city; his films depict his hometown of Baltimore, Maryland as a refuge of delinquents, miscreants, and perverts.

THE FILTHIEST PEOPLE ALIVE: PRODUCTIONS OF URBAN SPACES AND POPULATIONS IN THE FILMS OF JOHN WATERS

A Thesis

Submitted to the

Faculty of Miami University

in partial fulfillment of

the requirements for the degree of

Master of Arts

Department of Geography

By

Dennis Wayne Everette

Miami University

Oxford, Ohio

2011

Advisor______(Dr. Marcia England)

Reader______(Dr. Bruce D’Arcus)

Reader______(Dr. Roxanne Ornelas)

Contents

Abstract Table of Contents………………………………………………………………………….ii Acknowledgements………...…………………….………………………………………iii Chapter 1: Introduction: Cinema, Geography, John Waters, and Imaginings of the City…..………………………………………………………………………….....1 Chapter 2: Filmic Geographies and Productions of Abject Spaces, Socio-Spacial Exclusion, and Territoriality……..………………………………………………..5 Mass Media and its Use in Producing Place……………………………………....5 Abjection in Social Sciences………………...…………………..……………….10 Social exclusion through territoriality – Reacting to Perceived Threats in the City.…………………………………………..…………………………………..14 Chapter 3: Methods for Analyzing the Film Texts………………………………………22 Visual Ethnography – Applying Anthropology and Social Theory to Mass Media …………………………………………………………………………...22 Discourse Analysis – Exchanging Ideas between Interested Parties.……….…...24 Textual Analysis…………………………………………………………………26 The Components of Film Discourse……………………………...……………...28 Chapter 4: Film Explications – Emphasizing Critical Elements in the Films………...... 34 Film Synopses……………………………………………………………………35 Abjection in Waters’ Work………………..………………………………..……41 Socio-spatial Exclusion in Waters’ Work……..……………….………….…...... 50 Territoriality in Waters’ Work……………..……….……………………………57 Chapter 5: Concluding Remarks…………...………………………….…………………64 Films Cited..……...……….……………………………………………………………...67 John Waters’ Filmography……………………………………………………………….68 Literature Cited..…………………………………………………………………………69

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Acknowledgements

I would like to extend my complete gratitude and respect to the following for their support, patience, and understanding throughout this process. Thank you to:

Miami University Geography, for letting me in the building at all. Dr. Marcia England, Project Advisor Dr. Bruce D’Arcus and Dr. Roxanne Ornelas, Thesis Committee

Many thanks to the following for a lifetime of love, friendship, support, inspiration, or the occasional well-meaning tongue-lashing - Anthony Amstutz, Clyde Brown, Bryan Everette, Robert Everette, Keith Hazzard, Heather Heath, Michelle Holland, Kevin Hurst, Gregory Korbel, Hugh McKinney, Marci Mitchell, Davena NaDell, Christoph Peck, Anne Saunders, Joey Turner, and also to a certain stubborn bison residing somewhere near Interstate 80 in Carbon County, Wyoming.

I also want to extend my sincere appreciation to the following locations. Each of them has taught me very real and profound lessons about geography, place, identity, and how it all carries very real and powerful meanings within a human life. I am a much better person for having experienced them. Thanks to: Accomac, Virginia Albert Lea, Minnesota Alexandria, Ontario Athens, Georgia Baltimore, Maryland Bozeman, Montana Brooklyn, New York Buffalo, New York Camden, New Jersey Cannon Beach, Oregon Cary, North Carolina Collinsville, Illinois Cork, Ireland Eugene, Oregon Ferndale, Washington Halifax, Nova Scotia Kearney, Nebraska Kellogg, Idaho Kissimmee, Florida Laramie, Wyoming Lewes, Delaware Limerick, Ireland Lowell, Massachusetts Memphis, Tennessee Miramichi, New Brunswick Montreal, Quebec Muncie, Indiana Newport, Kentucky Nogales, Sonora Ogunquit, Maine Oxford, Ohio Pawtucket, Rhode Island Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Pt. Pleasant, West Virginia Portsmouth, Ohio Rivière-du-Loup, Quebec Savannah, Georgia Shediac, New Brunswick Southgate, Michigan St. Joseph, Missouri Stroud, Oklahoma Toronto, Ontario Tucumcari, New Mexico Tucson, Arizona Victoria, British Columbia Wall, South Dakota Washington, DC Wichita, Kansas Williams, Arizona Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin York, South Carolina Most importantly, to my hometown, Whitakers, North Carolina – Growing up there made me appreciate the value and joy of longing for whatever wonders lie beyond the horizon. In that way I have been a geographer since age 8.

…and finally to John Waters, filmmaker – You say the things many people think but don’t have the guts to say aloud for themselves. Also, thanks for teaching me the term “sneezing in the cabbage”.

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“Even the best exploitation movies were never meant to be ‘so bad they were good’. They were not made for the intelligentsia. They were made to be violent for real, or to be sexy for real.”

- John Waters

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CHAPTER 1 – INTRODUCTION: CINEMA,CHAPTER GEOGRAPHY, 1 - INTRODUCTION JOHN WATERS & IMAGININGS OF THE CITY

Motion pictures inundate American popular culture. The thousands of movie theaters located throughout the country cater to millions of paying consumers. From 2005 to 2008, 1.39 billion movie tickets were sold annually in the United States, resulting in a yearly revenue averaging $9.4 billion dollars (Nash Information Services, 2009). Simply put, film penetrates all segments of society, thereby carrying the power to inform very large numbers of people about the world around them. They both investigate place, time, and perception. Film creates whole worlds that may simultaneously exist in reality; therefore, it lends itself to more profound discussion and consideration within geographic discourse. Cultural geographers have recognized film’s importance in its influence on cultural landscape (Aitken and Zonn, 1994; Burgess and Gold, 1985; Denzin, 1991; Meinig, 1971; Relph, 1976). The films communicate many varied symbolic meanings. They create and reinforce cultural stereotypes, and can play a role in social identity creation (Halberstam, 2005; Mazzarella and Pecora, 1999). Most scholarly papers written on the subject recognize the need to fill gaps in what is known about the world through film, and through mass media in general. Geographers have investigated the cinema as a source of reasonably accurate representation of the conditions of people and spaces ever since its existence as a serious artform. However, the interest in film that developed among some geographers and other social scientists since the 1980s declines to accept any single straightforward manner with which film reflects a reality. Indeed, many geographers doubt the distinction between the real world and the cinematically-constructed “reel” world as they emphasize “the importance of cinematic representation to understanding our place in the world” (Aitken and Zonn, 1994, p. 5). Aitken and Zonn argue that movies provide charts of meaning with which the contemporary world can be navigated. They then argue cinema to be one of the most vital institutions in creating an increasingly imagined and spectacularized world. Nevertheless, these more recent geographies of film vary greatly in their analytical, methodological and empirical approaches.

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Here, geographers frequently concentrate on constructions of space, place, nature, landscape, and the ways in which specific visions of these serve to sustain or contest particular notions of social difference, particularly of class, race, gender and sexuality (Aitken and Zonn, 1993; Clarke, 1998; Hopkins, 1994; Natter, 1994; Natter and Jones III, 1993; Rose, 1994). This thesis serves as one such study; it examines the work of American filmmaker John Waters. John Waters stands as an icon of both cult film and the popular culture of his hometown, Baltimore, Maryland. His films date back as far as the early 1960s, and are famous for the highly transgressive subject matter on which he focuses (Davies, 2001). Waters’ self proclaimed “trash films” began with him and his group of friends, the “Dreamlanders” (named after his production company) shooting no-budget short films in the homes of family members. They also trespassed on farms and condemned buildings, among other private property. His films, typically comedic in genre, feature no shortage of crude humor. Waters created some of the most infamously absurd scenes set to film; no topic is taboo. He employs plotlines involving incest, rape, zoophilia, murder, arson, misandry and obsession with fame to shock audiences. This does not suggest, however, that his work lacks any sort of serious academic validity. His films speak volumes to the way in which mass media produces and proliferates cities as well as urban identities. In fact, with this project, I suggest that the academic community can and should give more serious attention to cult/underground/subversive cinema as a source of social, geographic, and cultural meaning. As most filmic geography studies focus on more popular or expertly-crafted works, I offer that there is much to be learned from all forms of cinematic work; cult, underground, or B-movies provide an equally illuminating glimpse into the state of the world as more critically-acclaimed fare. Waters repeatedly admits to loving his home city; he depicts Baltimore in each of his films. He shows it for what he loves about it, the “seedy underbelly” that most people find objectionable or vulgar. In this way, he, even if only inadvertently, promotes the city in that light as a hive of villainy and filth. This sentiment, while admired by Waters, accurately matches the fear some people construct in their minds when considering urban spaces.

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Cities are the combination of many, if not all, elements of socio-cultural experience (Malmberg, 1980). Mumford (1938, p. 3) described large urban centers as places where “the diffused rays of many separate beams of life fall into focus, with gains in both social effectiveness and significance. The city is the form and the symbol of an integrated social relationship: it is the seat of the temple, the market, the hall of justice, the academy of learning.” Assemblies of such diversity of human experience elicit an equally varied range of responses to them. In society’s collective imagination, cities exist as either a safe haven or a nightmare (Hannigan, 1998). Many desire for such environs, and subsequently build their life around urban settings. That is to say, many people actively seek out lives in cities. Still, others do not. In fact, some would simply have nothing to do with any large city (Ellin, 1997; Macek, 2006). For example, ex-urbanites from every large American city have left the city for a life in the exurbs or even further afield into rural areas. Others grow up in rural places; they develop an attachment or affinity for their home landscape. This attachment creates a rural identity, and this kind of identity can prevent an individual from understanding or accepting life in the city (Fitchen, 1991; Neal, 2009). Some people develop a fear of the city; this fear originates from differences of class, race, nationality, or sexuality, and the stereotypes that these qualities can produce (Bammer, 1995; Russell, 1998; Schiffauer, 2006). Here lies the crux of this study. I selected three of Waters’ films which offer demonstrable insight into concepts of abjection, othering, socio-spatial exclusion and territoriality. They are Pink Flamingos (1972), Hairspray (1988), and A Dirty Shame (2004). While Waters set these three films in a variety of locations within and surrounding Baltimore, they each reflect a great deal of insight about what he wanted to project about Baltimore as a city, as well as what it means to identify with, and dwell in, large cities. With this project, I seek to explicate Waters’ production of Baltimore in his films. While an increasing number of studies conducted on the cinema’s role in representations of place exist, to date, too few geographers or other scholars of social sciences give serious consideration to the underground cult genre of film. I see the potential for such media texts to influence the mental geographies of their audiences. In fact, with this project, I suggest that the academic community can and should give more serious attention to cult/underground/subversive cinema as a source of social, geographic,

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and cultural meaning. As most filmic geography studies focus on more popular or expertly-crafted works, I offer that there is much to be learned from all forms of cinematic work; cult, underground, or B-movies provide an equally illuminating glimpse into the state of the world as more critically-acclaimed fare. John Waters’s work clearly belongs in this genre of cinema. His productions of Baltimore reflect his unique perspective of his hometown. As works of mass media, his films inform the “real” world and contribute to a discourse of urban geography for the world to consider. Waters paints a picture of Baltimore as rife with danger, filth, and discord. Objective

The main objective of this thesis is to answer the question: What do the films of John Waters contribute to the urban geographic discourse of the city and its populace?

Specifically, I consider several pertinent themes within cultural geography to assist in that goal -- the cinema’s role in producing place, processes of othering, abjection in space, socio-spatial exclusion, and territoriality. This thesis describes how Waters’ work reflects and produces urbanized spaces; his themes of negativity toward cities often depict them as dirty, dangerous, and inhabited by the Other. Above all, this thesis serves to emphasize one filmmaker’s representation of urban spaces, and the antipathies of these spaces that he reinforces. This thesis adheres to the following structure. Chapter 2 provides a literature assessment of the various themes pertinent to this study. They include the history and principle tenets of filmic geographies, spaces of abjection, and territoriality. I integrate these geographies into a discourse of urban identity. Chapter 3 describes the methods used to undertake the study, specifically visual ethnography and discourse analysis. I also discuss film discourse and textual analysis specifically as both offer unique insight to this study. Chapter 4 will analyze the three films for their contribution to that dialogue of negative urban sentiment, while additionally offering more in-depth analysis of the texts. I then finish with concluding remarks and suggestions for possible future research.

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CHAPTER 2 – FILMIC GEOGRAPHIES AND PRODUCTION OF ABJECT

SPACES, SOCIO-SPACIAL EXCLUSION AND TERRITORIALITY

This study combines three separate bodies of geographic literature: media geographies, spaces of abjection, and territoriality. I use them to explain filmic urban geographies of Waters’ work using his characters, spaces, and narratives. Here, I will discuss each of these literatures and how they fit into this particular film study. I begin with the history of film as tool for geographic inquiry. In recent years, human geographers began looking to the cinema for explanations of how place, landscape, and identity form. Following this, I consider abject spaces, and how contact with the Other creates abjection in urban spaces and people occupying those spaces. Finally, I explain mechanisms of socio-spatial exclusion and the ways in which territoriality prohibits various groups from accessing specific spaces. Mass Media and its Use in Producing Place The entertainment choices made by individuals profoundly affect their mental image of the world around them. Burgess & Gold (1985) recognize the importance of the mass media in shaping the relationships between individuals and the places with which they interact. Such entities as radio, television, and film make any space or place readily available to us with much less effort than actually having to travel to them. However, Relph (1976) goes on to suggest that place experience through mass media results in only a few ways in which to experience place; if someone’s direct experience of real-world spaces can be considered authentic, then the stereotypical productions of place in mass media would appear inauthentic. Relph goes on to propose that the hegemonic cultural ideology employed at the time dominates the promoted image of a place. In that way, mass media does not allow the viewer to develop his or her own perception of a place. Wright (1947) showed, as of the mid-20th Century, the importance of “peripheral areas” as well as the traditional “core” areas of geographic inquiry. Wright stressed the value of such literature as fiction, travel writing, and magazines in developing a thorough knowledge of place. As part of this attention to literature in more recent decades, there exists an increasing number of studies in recent decades focusing on aesthetic geographies of these literatures (Pocock, 1981) and visual arts (Kwon, 2004; Tuan, 1990)

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as well as more popular forms of media, for instance television (Gold, 1987; Higson, 1987; Pitman, 2002), music (Gill, 1993; Moss, 1992), graphic novels (Lukinbeal and Kennedy, 1997), newspapers (Burgess, 1985), and film (Aitken, 1991; Cresswell and Dixon, 2004; Dixon, 2007; Do and Tarr, 2008, Dovey, 2007; England, 2006; Jenkins, 1990; Zonn, 1984), and internet media (Gatson and Zweernick, 2004). Given that the cinema is one such mass media formats, it is reasonable to consider it for serious geographic inquiry. Indeed, film studies are extremely valuable in explaining the formation and propagation of cultural, societal, and geographic productions. In recent years, cultural geographers use film and other mass media texts to learn about cultural landscapes, identity, and socio-spatial phenomena (Aitken and Zonn, 1994; Burgess and Gold, 1985; Ford, 1994; Jansson, 2003, 2005; Lukinbeal, 2005; Nowell-Smith, 2001; Zonn, 1984, 1985). Many people throughout the world view films and other mass media productions; these texts inform our worldview and shape our perceptions of the world in which we live. Films offer insight into personal attitudes and perceptions of culture and landscape. In contemporary American society, people tend to acquire a great deal of geographic information through mass media instead of actual real- world experience (Hanson, 2010). Given the wide spectrum of perspectives and voices in film, from mainstream blockbusters to small art films, there exists an equally wide range of ideas and communities represented in the cinema. No one would consider Waters’ body of work to be box office successes, but they do reach a large number of people via his increasingly loyal and growing cult following. Due to this, his films offer a visible and convincing point of view in observing the world (Richardson and Waters, 2006). Filmic Geography and its Recent Trends Many geographers consult maps as the principle tool used when discussing the geography of a given space. They also create new maps reflecting the results of their work. Maps involve the telling of a story by its creator. The cartographer achieves this through the selection, addition, omission or observation of key facts pertinent to the area being depicted. The first maps ever created, including Ptolemy’s multi-volume Geography tells the story of a flat Earth, while medieval maps warned of various ghastly sea monsters that lurk beyond the boundary of what land masses were then known to academic society (Harper and Rayner, 2010). Here we see very early attempts of

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imposing the artist’s (cartographer’s) unique voice onto their work. In addition, documentarians, creators of non-fiction cinema, choose where to point the camera and who to interview in order to effectively make their case about some subject about which their film speaks. Like films, maps are the product of one individual’s efforts, or a collaboration of a team working to tell an individual spatial story. One can start to quickly see the similarities that exist between cartography and filmmaking. The cartographer directs his/her story. Both maps and films adopt and place audiences within the narrative; the cartographers/filmmakers and their audiences embark on a journey that moves through a landscape. Here I see the link between geography and the cinema in order to understand the world in a much more profound way. Filmmakers manipulate the setting of their films just as they would with any other element of their artwork. Cinematic settings, rural and metropolitan, physical and social have realities independent of their depictions and uses in filmic imageries. The inclusion of setting and landscape in the frame symbolizes a realism that denies the artificial placement and unavoidable insincerity of the human drama in the more sharply focused foreground (Harper and Rayner, 2010). Scholars cannot suggest with assurance that a subjectively-depicted cinematic landscape acts purely as a pragmatic record, when it is as subject as any other cinematic element to artistic influence, technical augmentation and philosophical propagandizing. Its prominent and eloquent inclusion draws attention to itself as an intentional addition, a carrier of meanings pertinent to the enhancement of a visual aesthetic, a shared agreement between filmmaker and the maintenance, questioning and propagation of socio-cultural identity. Hence the need for geographers to focus on film as a valid source of ways in which artists produce geographic knowledge. Bartram (2003) also comments that these images inspire the audience to further develop their imagined geographies. These geographies move from the mind to real world manifestation as people apply their imaginations to the world in which they live. That is to say, films and other media show people how to interpret the world. While these suggestions do not act as mandate, they exist for viewers to consider, and incorporate as they see fit. Social constructions are everywhere in the films, advertising and TV programming we watch, the music we listen to, or the literature we read (Grossberg, Wartella, Whitney, and Wise, 2005). Society is told what behavior is socially acceptable

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based on how characters in various media move throughout life. Advertisers are very good at translating logos to almost subliminal symbolism promoting whatever product they are pushing. While some images and themes develop throughout media texts, they do not create a monolithic set of meanings. Cultural meaning is actually influenced or altered, rather than described as absolute truth. Aitken and Zonn (1994) describe filmic geography as focusing on a multitude of perspectives within filmic depictions of real-world spaces, including literary theory, psychoanalysis, symbolic landscape, and film criticism. As they pertain to this study, some of the more significant perspectives include the “real/reel” dichotomy, transactionalism, and urban representation. Following is an overview of these trends. Each of these add to the analysis of the films in this study. Film studies within geography frequently compare landscapes found on the reel to their real-world counterparts. Several geographers realized the benefit of placing filmic representations of landscape within their cultural, historic, or geographic contexts. They became concerned with ideologies encoded in film’s images (Jenkins, 1990; Natter and Jones, 1993; Wright, 1993; Youngs, 1985). They emphasized actual real-world conditions in order to question the authenticity of the on-screen landscapes. Hopkins (1994) explains that film alters interpretations of real landscapes and places. While it may be interesting to study spaces represented in film and other art strictly in and of itself, the larger significance lies in realizing the links between what we see on-screen and what we see occurring in the real world. The real influences the reel and vice versa. Geographers frequently employ transactionalism in media studies, including filmic projects (Kennedy and Lukinbeal, 1997). With this approach, the observers act as participating aspects of any whole system. In this case, the system consists of the film or films selected for any individual study. Observers derive meaning not from any of its component parts, but the complete collection of these components, including dialogue, set design, cinematography, editing, or art direction. With transactionalism, the observer alters the derived meaning based on their specific positionality. No matter how objective the observer attempts to be, the very act of their observation alters the system. Observers in different physical and psychological positions, or perhaps even ethnic, religious, or national positions, would yield alternate information about the same system. Most often,

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this means explaining transactions with individuals and symbolic landscapes found in films. Observers base reality on how they as individuals perceive it. Stuart Aiken (1991) utilized his previous work in transactionalism to establish a functional framework to serious research of the cinema and representations of landscape within it. Kennedy (1994), for instance, used a transactional approach to his work on the film Lawrence of Arabia in describing the link between the desert settings of that film with the shifting mindset of its main character, T.E. Lawrence. Urban representation is another trend of filmic geography. It is one specific form of transactional process. Observers of films understand the city differently from individual to individual, or from group to group, and these transactions change with succeeding generations. Representations change to reflect value systems of every new age group. Like this current study, several scholarly papers have been written on representation of cities in the cinema (Ford, 1994; Gold, 1984, 1985; Sherman, 1967). Also, several media scholars before (Holtan, 1971; McLaughlin, 1975) have highlighted anti-urban productions in mass media. Monkkonen (2001) shows that real- life instances of the city as savage can be traced back at least two centuries in the United States. It should be no surprise, then, that mass media texts can often echo similar sentiments. Holtan (1971) uncovered three basic assertions about the city in films of the late 20th Century, (1) relocation out of the city to find greater happiness, (2) city as taker of innocence, (3) and rural/urban othering. McLaughlin (1975) proposed that production designers construct unrealistic architectural forms; he suggests these buildings promote isolation and ill will in the city. Gold (1984) pointed out that an unbalanced amount of urban imagery in film depicts large metropolises, while tending to de-emphasize smaller cities and towns. One can find each of these points within the work of John Waters; the film analysis chapter discusses these points within the contexts of the three films included. Some geographers (Bruno, 1994; Kirby, 1989, Musser, 1984) show how cities evolved throughout the history of film from merely the stage to contain action to become central characters in films, for good or ill. Consider the importance of the city of New York in films like Taxi Driver, Annie Hall, Cloverfield, or Gypsy ‘83. These four films depict the same city as, simultaneously, salvation and cesspool. In these films, the

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interpretation of New York depends largely upon the point of view of the various characters in the films. This project adds to the portrayal of cities as dangerous, filthy, and abject throughout the history of film. Urban negativity, however, does not always have to be the only product or interpretation of film; many people may watch the same films and have their love for cities reinforced (Mennel, 2008). Again, contradictions of this type originate within the personal preference and opinion of the film’s audience. As this study is not an audience reception study, I limit discussion to the filmmaker’s comments on his films’ subject matter. Film studies vary significantly in scope and can focus on any number of topics within geographic thought. This study focuses on two elements of socio-spatial productions, abjection and territoriality through exclusion. These two elements frequently create pessimistic depictions of urbanized spaces. I now turn to the first of these topics with a discussion of abjection and abject spaces. Abjection in the Social Sciences

Scholars rely heavily upon abjection in understanding several components of social theory. Critical theorists use it as a lens through which they describe various social spaces (Fusco, 2007). Miller (1997) also investigated how it describes differences in class behavior. Abjection also extends from identities (like gender, race or sexuality) to behavioral qualities or life choices such as those that demonstrate criminal behavior (England, 2008) or those that work in the sex industry (Caldiera, 2000). Individuals of this type include members of organized crime, patrons of pornography shops, or spousal abusers. As it relates to this study, the “urban other” stands as the abject entity; non- white, impoverished, criminal, or non-religious individuals frequently constitute the urban Other. Those choosing to leave the city often do so because they imagine the city as a place where vile people are perpetrating vile things (Caldeira, 2000; Hubbard, 2004; Low, 2003; O’Dougherty, 2006; Sibley, 1981). The majority marginalizes abject individuals into the status of outsider; as such, abjection exists as a socially-constructed concept (Douglas, 1984; Miller, 1997; Moran, 1996). Much in the way African-Americans were only thought to be 3/5 of a complete human being, abject people/bodies do not fit into the mold of proper citizens (Haylett, 2001). The moral, social majority marginalizes, silences, and seemingly quarantines them

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to their own areas. As it relates to this study, several characters in Waters’ films represent the abject. In Pink Flamingos, most mainstream citizens of Baltimore reject the film’s protagonists, the Johnson family, owing to their criminally violent and sexually deviant behavior. The white community of Hairspray sees Baltimore’s black community as something that needs to be controlled and ostracized to their own separate spaces within the city. The two communities exist quite separately and unequally, until that film’s protagonist, Tracy Turnblad, begins to enlighten herself on issues of race. A Dirty Shame features numerous sex addicts, displaying any number of unusual fetishes. The law- abiding, so-called neuter establishment hates and fears the addicts due to the fact that they stand as their polar opposites. Abjection, as a visceral reaction, lends considerable insight to geographic inquiry, as abject people, or bodies, construct and occupy abject spaces. England (2008) states that abject spaces consist of the places where the boundaries of identity rupture when different identities freely intermingle. Several geographers give credence to concepts like abject individuals and the space they occupy (Grosz, 1998; Longhurst, 2000; Pile, 1996). Again, once a socially-hegemonic group levies judgment upon a place as being filthy, dangerous, or a site of morally-ambiguous activity, these dominant racial, religious, or economic groups in that vicinity attach an abject identity to that space. Abject experiences can also exacerbate both legal and civil exclusionary practices. Local governments frequently pass zoning or criminal laws banning particular behavior in restricted areas, while any residents with the means to do so may leave any area they wish, if living conditions there do not satisfy them. One of the films used in this study, A Dirty Shame, deals with the pleas by some urban residents to local authorities to take measures to rid their neighborhood of unwanted people. Waters’ films portray socio- spatial exclusion as a result of encounters with abject people and events within the city of Baltimore. Pink Flamingos stands as an excellent example of the kind of contemptible people and behavior stereotypical of urbanized places. Steve Macek (2000) highlights the demonization of urban areas prominent in the past two decades. Alarmist media portrayals describe cities as epicenter of moral decay, creating a dichotomy between cities and suburbs typically depicted as safe, clean, and structured. For Macek, the “savage urban Other” symbolizes a creation of conservative

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news media, particularly their commentary on crime, unemployment, and poverty in the wake of the Vietnam War. Depictions of the inner city emphasized the underclass and succeeded in blaming them for their existing state, instead of explaining the larger scope of socio-economic conditions that actually created inner city disadvantage. Conservative theorists describe largely immigrant neighborhoods like New York’s lower east side as innately corrupt. Their justification for such appraisals rests on the deplorable conditions in which immigrants lived. In this instance, the Right spins the effect of socio-economic imbalance (disproportionately unpleasant living conditions) into the cause, or evidence of, moral corruption. Macek goes on to describe racial components of urban othering as well: …by the Mid-‘60s, black migration to the urban centers of the North, white suburbanization, and deindustrialization had together begun to transform America’s inner cities into reservations for the minority poor. Indeed, the strict segregation of the nation’s metropolitan areas along lines of race and class was by 1965 already well entrenched. (p. 52)

So then, the Right historically constructed inner city areas as poor, foreign and non-White places. Such social productions construct the urban other as an antithesis of affluent white Americans who choose to leave the city for the suburbs and exurbs. This othering contributes to a culture of fear of the city (Cohen, 1973; Goode and Ben-Yehuda, 1994; Thompson, 1998). Cohen (1973) explains that this fear, or what he calls “moral panic” emerges when some peripheral or marginalized group poses a threat to the established cultural hegemony of the time. This concept proves useful when considering the film A Dirty Shame. There exists many real-world manifestations of such social constructs. People can develop highly negative sentiment towards these Others (Goode and Ben- Yehuda, 1994). Having to come into direct contact with Others constitutes the basis of the concept of abjection (Thompson, 1998). Othering influences several elements in social discourse, abjection being only one of them. It produces, exacerbates, and emphasizes difference, paving the way for exclusionary practices across space. When hegemonic groups decide that a particular group judged inferior needs to be contained, territoriality develops, and the defense of the territory from the unwanted becomes a perpetual struggle. At the same time, those on the outside constantly struggle to be recognized as equal.

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Abjection and its Genesis in Othering – Creating Negative Urban Sentiment

People associate the city with any number of qualities -- not all of them positive (Monkkonen, 2001). Often media texts portray cities as abject, undesirable spaces. The term “abjection” originates from Julia Kristeva, specifically her seminal book Powers of Horror: an Essay on Abjection (1982). She used the term to describe that which people cast off, or reject. Among additional points, she stated that abjection exists as the reaction we have when faced with the Other, the Other being the antithesis of one’s social identity. Groups mentioned earlier can elicit similar negative reactions; consider the poor, the mentally-ill, or the homosexual for instance (Douglas, 1984; Moran, 1996; Sibley, 1981). Typically, people maintain a boundary or shield between themselves and entities that are considered the opposite of self identity. England (2006) suggested that when an individual experiences a direct encounter with someone or something so patently different, that boundary disruption creates troubling or even frightening reactions. This transgression of boundaries contributes to a space of abjection (Cresswell, 1997; Hubbard, 2002; Kristeva, 1982; Sibley, 1995). Cresswell (1997) illustrated how spatial deviance reinforces the conventional order of society. Hubbard (2002) works with sexual identities and how they form through a relationship between “self” and “Other.” Similarly, people often represent geographic space in terms of “self” and “Other.” Sibley (1995) discusses how dominant social and cultural populations marginalize some “untouchable” members of society, like the populations of gypsies in Europe. Similar marginalizations are depicted in Waters’ work, where cultural hegemonies marginalize and limit criminal (Pink Flamingos), African-American (Hairspray), or sexually deviant (A Dirty Shame) elements of society into the abject spaces where qualities of the marginalized are simultaneously placed onto the space itself. Identity formation frequently includes an element that constructs everyone not associated with that identity as somehow different (Kapferer, 1996; McClintock et al. 1997; Woodward, 1997). Ashcroft, Griffiths, and Tiffin (2000) describe the Other as “anyone who is separate from one’s self. The existence of others is crucial in defining what is ‘normal’ and in locating one’s own place in the world (p. 169). If an individual identifies themselves with a unique group, the Other frequently exists as the “them” which stands in binary opposition to the group with which the individual identifies (van

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Houtum, 2005) . Group identity has many different origins; they can be based on any of the socio-cultural markers mentioned thus far such as race, gender, sexuality, or age, for example. Additionally, Othering occurs based on difference of place associations and attachments, including local, regional, national identities (Janssen 2003, 2005). This project on the films of John Waters focuses not on othering between regional or national identities, rather those that form as a result of attachment to or disconnection/alienation from the city in general. Cultural and physcoanalytical geographers and other social scientists make use of concepts like abjection and Othering to understand how social groups function in the real world. Social Exclusion through Territoriality – Reacting to Perceived Threats in the City

Many geographers and other social and cultural scientists offer many different definitions of territory. They span the range from biological to social. Uexküll (1957) and Ardrey (1972) emphasize the subjectivity of the concept. Ardrey (1972) suggests that territories do not exist in nature. Instead, they exist in the minds of animals inhabiting any given space. In fact, many non-human species display territorial defensive actions; particularly to defend food resources or to defend the community. Nice (1933) suggests that territory exists as an affirmative reaction to a specific place and an adverse reaction to other types of people. Such territorial behavior can be extended into human societies. For instance, Parr (1965) explains that territory acts as the space which a person, whether acting as an individual, or within a part of a social network (e.g., family, gang), in joint tenancy, claims as his or her own, and will “defend”. Once citizens create such divisions in society, they sometimes take steps to partition spaces to limit the likelihood of encountering the Other. Often this leads to the creation and defense of territory within public and private spaces. Privileged groups in power represent the hegemonic norm where he suggests caucasian, fit, male, young, heterosexual, Christian and affluent people come to represent the social standard (Perry, 2001). Perry (2001) also notes that such self/Other positioning frequently constructs a range of pluralistic dualisms which serve to devalue the difference due to their being seen as inferior or subordinate. Consider such dualisms as white/black, male/female, heterosexual/homosexual, or criminal/law-abiding. Normativity such as this implies a basis for acceptance or privilege. Dominant socio-cultural groups see the privileged as

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“normal”; they then do not have to be “marked” or in some way overtly observed or monitored as a special case, like those deemed inferior (Pease, 2009). Such monitoring places special emphasis on being aware of where certain groups of people exist in space, and what spaces hegemonic groups grant them access. Foucault (1977) adds to this notion when he developed the theory of the “carceral”, which is a manner of discipline which takes the form of hierarchical surveillance and standardizing judgment. Such methodologies of discipline can lead to notions of privilege or hegemonic normativity, socio-spatial exclusion being one such form of privilege denial. Altman (1975) encapsulated the essential components of territory, including geographic reference, motive for implementing territorial behavior, assumption of place ownership, personalization of place, use of territorialized places for group use, and the implied right to defend one’s space. Robert Sack (1986) gives a thorough explication of territorial behavior in society. His book Human Territoriality (1986) thoroughly demonstrates how people control each other through control of space. This book describes the historic, economic, sociological, and anthropological elements within human territorial behavior. Territoriality exists on a number of scales, from interpersonal to multi-national. Also, territorial theory spans the breadth of human history; several case studies vary from the Ojibwe people of pre-modern North America through contemporary issues of land ownership and commercial real estate as well as explorations of the ties between ethnicity and land in places like the Balkans and Palestine (Sack, 1986; Saltman, 2002). I consider the discourse of exclusionary practices to be a pluralistic one. Goodin (1996) offers three declarations on this plurality, suggesting that the excluded opted out, or dominant cultural hegemonies leave them out or keep them out. Ryan (2007) suggests that this third statement, the one based in power relations, reflects most accurate description of exclusionary conflicts in contemporary society. Human beings, among many other animal species, find a wide assortment of ways in which to establish power relations (Blomley, 1994; Bordieu, 1989). Exclusionary practices are manifested in space, typically mirroring spatial distributions of social difference (Herbert, 2008). These differences are the basis for Othering between people in urban areas. The United

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Kingdom’s Department of Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS) says that social exclusion can be: …direct or indirect, and can embrace both groups and individuals. Exclusion also has a geographical dimension embracing rural, urban, and suburban areas alike (DCMS, 1999).

Some years later the government added the following: Social exclusion is something that can happen to anyone. But some people are significantly more at risk than others. Research has found that people with certain backgrounds and experiences are disproportionately likely to suffer social exclusion. The key risk factors include: low income, family conflict, being in care, school problems, being an ex-prisoner, being from an ethic minority, living in a deprived neighbourhood in urban and rural areas, mental health problems, age and disability. (DCMS, 2005).

Although exclusionary practices frequently concentrate on the poor (Bonner, 2006), some researchers illustrate how the scope of social exclusion has broadened. Percy-Smith (2000) developed seven “dimensions” common to social exclusion. They include (1) economic, (2) social, (3) political, (4) neighborhood, (5) individual, (6) spatial, and (7) group aspects. Economic factors include those living under the poverty line and the unemployed. Social dimensions consist of homelessness or criminal activity. Those feeling alienated from the political process may also likely fall victim to exclusionary practices. Those living in poor quality housing or neighborhoods are vulnerable as well. Qualities of the individual like level of health or education attainment also tend to dictate likelihood of socio-spatial exclusion. Whole groups of people, such as ethnic minorities, the elderly, or physically disabled also become susceptible to such spatial discrimination. Regardless of how socio-spatial exclusion forms or operated, the concept typically lends itself to ideas of non-conformity and deviance. Utilizing exclusion in policy decisions imposes power structures which exacerbate disparity and runs counter to any empowerment endeavors by the excluded (Alexander, 2005). This thesis shows that John Waters utilizes ethnically, racially, and behaviorally-based exclusion in his body of work. Scholars describe territorial defense as the manifestation of exclusionary practices. As the establishment of territory implies ownership or dominion over space (Delaney, 2005; Sack, 1986), dominant social cultural groups frequently use it to further marginalize or restrict already underprivileged minority groups. Also, socio-spatial

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exclusion produced by territorial defense creates a link between place and identity (Agnew, 2003; Morley, 2000; Newman, 2006; Paasi, 1996). Identity is a key psychological need thought to be involved in territoriality (Malmberg, 1980). Kira (1970) expands on this concept: Since the dawn of time, man has searched in various ways to answer the question, who am I? This quest for personal sense of identity seems to be a fundamental aspect of man’s nature and is certainly a fundamental tenet of modern psychology which is becoming increasingly concerned with this question (p. 272).

Identity articulates a lingering sameness within oneself and an equal sharing of some fundamental character with other individuals. This manifests in space; certain neighborhoods in a city are typically known by their principal inhabitants. Soja (1971) describes spatial identity within territoriality as an expansion of personal space into a larger socio-spatial area, usually manifested in the development of territorial iconography, such as flags, insignia, or discreet physical structures. Fried (1963) goes further, describing an individual’s sense of spatial identity as being “fundamental to human functioning” (156). It represents an amalgamation of significant understanding concerning environmental arrangements and contacts in relation to the individual’s formation of their own body in space. Malmberg (1980) adds: “This sense is based on spatial memories, spatial imagery and the spatial framework of current activity, as well as on implicit spatial components of ideals and aspirations” (236). In other words, to have an identity means that it will very likely be readily manifested in space, along with those with whom one also sees as displaying that same identity. Phrases like “the poor side of town”, “the ‘hood”, or “where all the rich people live” carry insinuations about the given neighborhood. While most people choose to live wherever they like, there are both public and private institutions in place to restrict such movement (Malmberg, 1980). While superficially, entities like local governments, homeowners’ associations, or community watch groups implement such restrictions to preserve community standards, they also target the prevention of some people from living in or even entering specific places such as gated communities or high-end shopping centers. In his film A Dirty Shame, Waters depicts such entities, when a community watch group forms as a response to the arrival of a group of sex addicts in their neighborhood.

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Those with power over space tend to take measures to keep their power (Massey, 1994; Soja, 1989). The criminalization of city spaces acts as one popular way of achieving this in spatial terms (Herbert, 2008). Anyone deemed undesirable can be made to keep out of an area by the passage of local or state ordinances. Therefore, the socially- disadvantaged experience additional punishment, simply for occupying a particular space. Dominant social groups beseech government agencies, including law enforcement, in order to keep the peace and keep everything in the proper place. Throughout Waters’ films, citizens implore the local authorities to step in and remedy their situations. Assumptions sometimes develop that the presence of undesirables in one’s space is in some way illegal, and therefore carry legitimate ground for elimination. This kind of surveillance emphasizes the lengths to which some government entities will go in order to keep people out of spaces judged not to be suitable for them. A result of this is the increasingly segregated composition of discrete neighborhoods within a single city. We see several examples of these segregated neighborhoods in Waters’ work. He uses them to create a dynamic, charged urban atmosphere in these films. Various city neighborhoods largely consist of the poor while others only a few blocks away house the extremely wealthy. Others, contain only African-Americans, while some are predominantly white. One finds similarly homogeneous neighborhoods characterized by age, educational, or religious qualities. While some of these citizens willingly congregate in such ways, most do not. As Sibley (1995) suggests, hegemonic power manifests through the monopolization of space and the demotion of weaker groups in society to less advantageous environments, frequently via legal or financial channels. Simply put, some people have access to many more spaces than others, and frequently that comes down to hegemonies of identity. Those with power legally or financially dictate who has access to what space. Nevertheless, not all spatial restriction can be attributed to the disadvantages of the underclass. Some socio-spatial exclusion is quite voluntary. Generally, this trend is made up of the affluent who wish to isolate themselves from underclasses such as the poor or immigrants (Sibley, 1995). Socio-spatial exclusionary practices create much more segregated, homogenous neighborhoods in a city.

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Any observer can easily delineate areas in a city based on difference of class (McDowell, 2007) such as high-income areas like Brentwood in Los Angeles, Society Hill in Philadelphia, the Foothills in Tucson, or Georgetown in Washington, D.C. Indeed, a clear connection exists between the dispersal of income and socio-spatial exclusion. Such neighborhoods are quite similar to those formed as a result of white flight; many wealthy residents wish to construct exclusive space that lower-income individuals, or the racial Other, cannot financially be included. This separates them from the moral or social underclass which they perceive as being a detriment to the quality of life they seek. McDowell (2007) explains that often, the end result of this class-based exclusion in space results in territories of wealth forming where the poor, or even middle-class have no access. The few in power take all they desire, which leaves the most undesirable remnants for the underclass. Such territoriality serves as the antithesis of the idea of “the Commons” Hardin (1968) illustrates. He describes the results of people acting as individuals serving their own self-interests and how they can drain a given space of resources for all who must subsist from that same space. While politics of class weigh heavily in socio-spatial exclusion and self-segregation, it by no means acts as the only basis for them. Race clearly acts as motivator of spatial homogeneity. This can be seen in Waters’ works, particularly the film Hairspray. The analysis chapter will describe how African-American citizens in that film have little to no authority to access various spaces in Baltimore. Some neighborhoods form through difference of sexual orientation (Browne, 2007) such as the Short North in Columbus, Ohio, Capitol Hill in Seattle, or DuPont Circle in Washington, D.C. The gay community produces neighborhoods like these not so much to get away from those deemed fearful, but more to develop a safe haven for themselves (Brekhus, 2003; Castells, 1983; O’Connor, 2003). In that way these “gay ghettos” bear similarity to ethnic enclaves throughout many large cities. When such neighborhoods develop, it furthers the fears of those in the social majority who find such subcultures or minorities distasteful. It coagulates the feared characteristic into a tangible form within the city. Self-segregation like this is seen in several of Waters’ works, most notably A Dirty Shame. The film analysis chapter discusses how people establish

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neighborhoods where there an understanding exists of who constitutes both the appreciated and the unappreciated within their boundaries. Another neighborhood of difference has less to do with identity, but more the kinds of activities that take place in them. These are the red light districts found throughout the world, many in the United States. Activities like prostitution, alcohol consumption, body modification (tattoos, piercing, or branding, for instance), or the frequenting of pornography shops are often zoned as allowable only within these distinct areas within a city (Hubbard, 2004; Papayanis, 2000). Notable neighborhoods of this type include the Combat Zone in Boston, the Tenderloin in San Francisco, or the Block in Baltimore. As this relates to Waters’ films, a primary element of Waters’ films are the extremely counter-culture and subversive characters that inhabit them. They include people of nearly every race, sexuality, class level, or morality. Such subversive individuals may exist in society within the pre-determined spaces within a city, like red- light districts, with little protest from mainstream, dominant society. However, when the underclass breech spatial boundaries and enter other territories within the city, abject panic ensues. A majority of Waters’ films derive their conflict from this kind of transgression. The rejection of the repugnant, whether that judgment be overt or implicit, acts as the one chief similarity between all of these neighborhoods, and among all exclusionary practices across space. Abjection has a wide-reaching effect on space; specifically how people portray or imagine various places, and ultimately, claim them as property, and therefore defend them. When undesirables leave their allotted spaces and encroach upon hegemonic people in their spaces, conflict invariably ensues. Again, with certain culturally-based neighborhoods, there exist certain groups of people associated with them. As such, due to their attachment to these neighborhoods, they do not readily gain acceptance in other spaces in the city, like the country club or gated community by the occupants of these other spaces. This study combines several elements within geography that have not been juxtaposed previously. Cultural and social geographers see film, as well as other mass media texts such as music, television, magazines, among others, as a viable window into the interpretation and construction of place from space. In order to properly understand

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the full extent of construction of the city as a place of abject Othering, three separate bodies of knowledge must be considered. Individuals identify themselves according to any of several social, political, locational, or cultural qualities. Such identity formation creates an Other that stands in opposition to the formed identity. Much mass media coverage exacerbates urban Othering, creating tension between the dominant class and the underclass. Sometimes, when faced with the Other, the discomfort or fear generated produces abject bodies and spaces, entities that many avoid at all costs. Often this involves constructing and defending territories that exhibit racial, economic or ethnic homogeneity. When extensive numbers of excluded persons live in a specific space or community, the stigmatization of that entire population often results. When the Right uses perceptions of crime, drug use, adolescent pregnancy, or joblessness to stigmatize a community, the discourse of the “moral underclass” grows from a focus on individual citizens into sweeping generalizations about the entire community. Putting these themes together provides an opportunity for a unique film case study. Following I describe the methods used in this film analysis. In the next chapter on methods, I discuss how I analyzed film texts and looked for the socio-spatial elements I described above.

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CHAPTER 3 – METHODS FOR ANALYZING THE FILM TEXTS

The methods informing readings of film texts form a diverse and often implicit group of approaches. Scholars place specific emphasis on the film's narrative -- how its story develops and displays relations between characters, locations and events. Case studies constitute the most common technique utilized by geographers to date in their analysis of film. They focus on the geographies shown in specific cinematic texts. Rohdie (2001) describes how a given filmic case study can focus on one specific place. He offers case studies of films depicting Tahiti, Italy, Benin, and the Congo (2001). Indeed, case studies exist for most countries/states today. This project acts as a case study of one specific place. It looks at the city of Baltimore, Maryland, and how films (the work of John Waters specifically) reflect the filmmaker’s geographies of that city. Such a case study is of particular relevance given the ubiquity of mass media texts in American society today. This project is, at its foundation, a geographic study of film texts. Cultural and social scholars scrutinize films and television programming through the use of visual ethnography and discourse analysis. Therefore, an understanding of textual analysis must be grasped. This project uses visual ethnography and discourse analysis of media texts to discover the manner in which the film texts of director John Waters represent the ways in which he as an artist constructs cities and city dwellers in his imagined geographies. Specifically, the films Pink Flamingos, Hairspray, and A Dirty Shame are of particular importance to such representations. In the following, I elaborate on visual ethnography and discourse analysis as the tools for this study. I then describe textual analysis specifically. Subsequent then will be a description of the specific discourse of film, and how the films of this project and I, the viewer, exchange ideas. This discussion of film discourse helps in becoming able to answer my larger research questions on depictions and productions of the urban through film texts. Visual Ethnography – Applying Anthropology and Social Theory to Mass Media

I utilized visual ethnography as the primary method in this research. Derived from work being done by anthropologists in the field; who have a tradition of videotaping, or

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otherwise recording their subjects, and subsequently consulting the footage at any time they need (Bartram, 2003). It is a rational jump from analyzing participant observation footage to looking at cinematic texts in an equally critical way (Clifford and Valentine, 2003). Sociologists and geographers, among other cultural scholars, began adopting these techniques (Pink, 2007). Pink (2007) states how cultural studies concentrates mostly on studying visual representations. Mass media texts both produce and reflect real-world perceptions (Ford, 1994; Nowell-Smith, 2001). Filmmakers, authors, and television producers take the already constructed perceptions of the world and use them to shape the characters and events in their works. Simultaneously, this visual imagery transmits cultural significance and meaning to those that view it (Bartram, 2003). Typically these audiences are the paying movie-going spectators, but with projects such as this, the audience is the individual researcher. Surely any audience of fifty viewers will derive fifty slightly different interpretations of the events on-screen. In this project, I interpret three of John Waters’ films according to their story, visual aesthetic, and dialogue, as they relate to the themes of urban Othering, specifically abjection and socio-spatial exclusion. Looking at the film through these lenses aids in this interpretation (Bartram, 2003). With the production of a film, the most important element is the filmmaker. Such positionalities color the message produced in films, and as the auteur, Waters contributes vast amounts of input on how his films are to be interpreted. This aspect of film interpretation would be highly valuable in this study, and efforts were made by the researcher to contact John Waters for his input on themes of urban Othering in his work. Ultimately, however, all attempts to contact Mr. Waters were unsuccessful. Therefore, interpreting the film texts are left to aesthetics and dialogue as experienced and understood by the researcher. The second manner of analysis is film aesthetics. The aesthetics of the films include composition, sound, color, tone, or editing for instance. Such elements help construct meaning in the films. Waters depicts some neighborhoods in Baltimore as being strewn with litter or otherwise rather unkempt if not outright filthy and diseased. Sound engineers and foley artists contribute to the production of the city by adding sounds of traffic jams and echos of footfall from some unseen alleyway to heighten the sense of

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anxiety, for instance. Finally, the dialogue spoken and actions taken by the characters act as the most telling part of the films. In each of the films, people constantly encounter others in Baltimore that defies their notions of what is proper or acceptable. They attempt to separate themselves from such perceived impropriety, and create their own safe spaces within the city. The words used by the characters when referring to the abject elements of city life prove quite telling. I use a fictional text as ethnographic tool. While the characters and events depicted in the films did not actually exist, they offer real and reliable insights into how Waters produces social and spatial constructions by reflecting the real-world. Many people throughout the world unknowingly form their worldview through whatever entertainment products they consume. Discourse Analysis – Exchanging Ideas between Interested Parties

While visual ethnography serves as the primary method in use for this project, I find it important to understand discourse theory to get a fuller understanding of the films. Discourse theory has its origins in semantics and linguistics (Rose, 2001). Discourse is, in simple terms, the collection of utterances and statements put forth between individuals engaged in communication with each other. These statements describe how individuals construct and perceive particular ideas. In this study, those individuals are me as the viewer, and the films being watched. The film is saying things, through dialogue and visual elements such as location, and I interpret these messages interpreting Waters’ vision of Baltimore through lenses of abjection, exclusion, and territoriality. In this sort of research, the researcher must take into account the various social classifications of the viewer, just as one must consider the positionalities of the filmmaker. These classifications could skew the meanings and interpretations of the texts being studied. With other similar projects, audiences could be interviewed to gather reception data, but in this project, the only important interpretation of the films will be formed by me, the researcher, and substantiated by the literatures employed earlier. Michel Foucault put forth the idea that utterances from a source constructs knowledge and power, again, based on whatever position the speaker holds (1969). Power struggles between women/men, poor/rich, outsider/insider or black/white, for instance can be viewed as a power struggle between hegemonic “dominant discourse”

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and the “resistance” with which it is opposed. Each of these points of view has their own agenda, and portrays the same information in a slightly different way based on the ambitions of the group. One other aspect of discourse that should be mentioned is the idea of intertextuality. Intertextuality as how a text relates to other texts that have come before, and how they add to what is already being communicated (Allen, 2011; Bauman, 2004; Fairclough, 1992; Orr, 2003). The films chosen for this project are responding to other statements made in earlier work. To say the least, the films I am studying do not necessarily stand up on their own. I could very easily compare what John Waters (Baltimore) says about city life to the views put forth by Jan Švankmajer (Prague in Otesánek), David Cronenberg (Toronto in Videodrome) or Martin Scorsese (New York in After Hours or Bringing Out the Dead). It opens the door for all sorts of art analysis, which could lead to some fascinating discoveries. Those pursuits, however, are beyond the scope of this research project. Implementing Discourse

Having explained what discourse is, I will now describe how to utilize it as a research technique. Gillian Rose, in her book Visual Methodologies (2001), provides a six-part process of the actual analysis of film through discourse. She suggests that the researcher: (1) use detailed textual or visual evidence to support analysis (2) use textual or visual details to support analysis (3) consider the coherence the study gives to the discourse examined (4) consider the coherence of the analysis itself (5) consider the coherence of the study in relation to previous related works (6) examine cases that run counter to the discursive norm established by the analysis, in order to affirm the disruption caused by such deviations. (161)

I examine both what the characters say and what cinematography, art direction, editing, sound, or locations might imply. I put the films into proper context, by being compared and contrasted with other similar studies. Other films about the city may either refute or re-enforce the discourse put forth by the three Waters movies I am studying. I took each film, and analyzed the dialogue and plot scene-by-scene, line-by-line to see if any part of the films contributes to ideas of urban Othering. Examples of this sort of

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words and actions include references to “them”, “those people”, “us” or any other phrasings used to differentiate between groups of people. More specifically, I searched for particular kinds of dialogue and plot devices that represent fear and revulsion. For example, I see the reference to a group of people or an area in which they inhabit as dangerous, dirty, inferior or strange as signs of territoriality, exclusion, or abjection. If, in an instance of fear, a character wants to keep “them” out of their space, it most probably represents an instance of territorial behavior. If individual people or groups treat members if different races, classes, or sexualities as some sort of different group, then Othering has most likely occurred. If the character wishes to deny access to one of “them” in a space that they themselves do not occupy, I see this as spatial exclusion. Of course these themes are not mutually exclusive; each of them frequently involves the others. Hairspray and A Dirty Shame contain many instances of unwarranted speech and sentiment betraying abject Othering and territorial exclusionary practices. Pink Flamingos depicts several lewd acts perpetrated by the main characters that reinforces some stereotypical fears that city dwellers are odd, dangerous or deranged, and thus, must be either contained or eliminated altogether. This kind of analysis is what Rose is suggesting with steps 1 and 2 listed above. Steps 3 through 6 are for the researcher to ensure that the project remains valid. A strong coherence exists between the films in the research and the discourse I selected for the study. Each of the themes selected cohere to the study, as each speaks to negative productions of the city. Textual Analysis

Textual analysis is a manner for scholars to collect information about how others in a given society make sense of the world around them. All cultures and subcultures have diverse means of making sense of the world: from the most faintly different (men and women, for example), to the most exceedingly different (British and Inuit, for instance). Analyzing texts provides researchers a means to comprehend the ways in which members of various cultures evaluate and decipher who they are, and how they fit into society (McKee, 2003). Researchers of cultural and social sciences, philosophy, media studies, and mass communication find textual analysis greatly helpful. When scholars implement analysis on a text, they postulate at the most probable interpretations

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that may be made of that text. Media scholars interpret texts, such as magazines, television programs, films, advertising, and music in an effort to understand how specific cultures within a given historical era make sense of the world. When this occurs, researchers can then also understand our own cultures better since they can then start to understand the restrictions and benefits of our own sense-making practices. If scholars agree that different cultures utilize different sense-making techniques, resulting in a wide variety of diverse ways in which to interpret reality, they must then recognize that judgments will be placed on these different cultural constructions of reality. McKee (2003) describes three different ways in which people react to such variations of how they construct reality. The first is the realist response. Realist responses tend to insist that our own sense-making practices are the only valid ones. A self-described realist may suggest that the culture to which they self-identify has “gotten it right”, that their cultural view simply describes reality, while other conflicting cultural interpretations of reality are simply incorrect. For example, the title of British anthropologist E. B. Tylor’s most influential publication, Primitive Culture (1871), succinctly describes the outlook he gave to most non-Western cultures. There existed a mentality that such cultures did not reach the level of evolution of, for example, Western society, and learning about them would; “throw light upon the earlier stages of culture of civilized peoples [i.e. British people]” (ibid.: 131). Anthropologists of the day operated under the assumption that their own culture simply defined the world. McKee suggests such realist approaches: “seemingly study other cultures if for no other reason than to illustrate just how wrong they were” (10). Conversely, there exists a more structuralist response, where scholars suggest all cultures seem to be making sense of the world differently, but really, underneath, they have common structures. They believe that people across the world are basically the same (McKee, 2003). Some anthropologists in the nineteenth century studied other cultures so they could find out what they had in common. They tried to look beyond superficial differences to find underlying similarities (Haddon, 1910). Typically these common themes were seen within religious symbolism; cultures separated by thousands of miles often demonstrate similarities regarding creation stories, imagery of sun and moon gods, and representations of fertility deities (ibid.: 142).

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One can also accept that other cultures do construct reality differently; this is a much more post-structuralist approach. Post-structuralist theory dates back to the work of philosophers such as Nietzsche, although such work only addressed strictly philosophical writing, not more broad themes like culture. Cuff (1998) explains that it is, however, possible to trace a history that connects Nietzsche’s thinking to cultural relativism this textual analysis section describes. He argued that Western culture was but one of many possible approaches to sense-making, and not the ideal destination of human evolution (ibid.: 242). Rather than seeing rational descriptions of the world as merely describing the “truth” of the world, post-structuralist approaches see all varieties of language and other sense-making strategies as having their own benefits as well as restrictions.

Each of these three approaches still exist in Western cultures. And because this question is, in the end, a philosophical one about the fundamental nature of truth and our connection to it, it is not possible to establish which is correct. There is no indisputable argument that one can make to prove one or the other. This project assumes that individuals make sense of reality through our cultures with which they identify, and that different cultures can have very different experiences of reality. No single representation of reality can be the only true one, or the only accurate one. Other filmmakers produce the city in entirely different ways than does John Waters. Moreover, my interpretation of Waters’ work will differ from another individual’s. The Components of Film Discourse

Taking the general principles of discourse and textual analysis and applying them to this specific project, I found several elements of film to scrutinize. Four components make up the transaction of ideas within film, the first two are fundamental to this study. They are (1) the message of the text, (2) the source, or maker of the message, (3) the medium by which the text is produced, and (4) the receiver, or viewer of the text. The core of film discourse lies with the message transmitted by the media text, and how that message is perceived by the audience of that text. The message is simply the set of thoughts or ideas the source of the message it trying to portray. Chatterji (2009) and Sack (1992) claim mass media to be a force in the generalization of attitudes toward place through their content, presentation, and positionality. Although Sack shows the

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connection between consumerism and mass media, one could go further and see how film can be its own system of ideology advertisement. An example of this could be habitual instances of product placement within many popular films, although art films are not free from the phenomenon. Any interpretation of reality put forth in a film, whether used to promote consumer goods, or to make a larger statement about any real-world situation is typically an effort by the filmmakers to convince the audience that their message being put forth is not only valid, but also believable and realistic. Filmmakers must produce a plausible (if not accurate) narrative and setting in order for the audience to more easily suspend their disbelief, and thus to more easily enjoy the cinematic experience. Given that this project is an inquiry into the cultural geographies of the city, the obvious emphasis is the spaces depicted in the films, and the associations, reactions, or identities formed through these spaces. A crucial element of geographic thought in the cinema is the concept of the symbolic landscape, and has seen attention in research on literature and art in general (Atkin & Rykwert, 2005; Backhaus & Murungi, 2010; Mallory & Simpson-Housley, 1987; Pocock, 1981). Cosgrove (1984, 1993), Daniels (1989), and Ross (2009) have shown that entities like landscape, place, and nature can be constructed socially. The symbolic qualities of landscape and place are important to geographic thought because they help to construct shared images of the world, which can go further to create mythic nationalistic images (Zonn & Aiken, 1994) and imagined readings of places. Meinig (1979) and Melbye (2010) made an effort to understand how a landscape becomes symbolic; they looked at set design and on-location shooting choices for films made during Hollywood’s golden era of the 1930s-50s. Also, they noticed how specific meanings were continually allotted to specific landscape backdrops, including the use of setting to serve as outward expressions of characters’ internal subjective states. I earlier described Relph’s (1976) concept of ready-made identities within film interpretation and the messages exchanged between text and audience. He spoke of the few hegemonic voices that shape the experience of place in mass media texts. Waters’ body of work is not within the realm of what most popular filmmakers want to produce; as such, the messages contained in his work tend to not fall outside the category of standard hegemonic agendas. He has an entirely unique voice in the world of cinema, and

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his films offer glimpses into pockets of society not typically seen in more popular fare. Waters’ positionality as a gay filmmaker in love with his hometown feeds into that unique vision; he is at least as fascinated, if not more so, with the seedy underbelly of Baltimore than the typical everyday city that most people experience when living or visiting there. John Waters’ films manifest the trepidation of many who do not care for large urbanized places. The filmmaker, the screenwriter, or larger entities like the entire Hollywood film industry all may serve as the source of any film text’s message. Beyond these two elements, many film studies focus on two additional components of film, medium and receiver. The filmmakers transmit the message through their choice of any medium they see fit. Various film technologies alter the way the message is interpreted by the receiver, or viewer, of the film message. Those responsible for the creation of a film, as well as the film’s contents are twofold. They are primarily the filmmaker, and secondarily, the film industry. Each of these elements both adds to and alters the construction of the film’s message. While there is no way to completely dictate the reception or interpretation of a film, the filmmaker is the individual who works closest with the material. The director has the ultimate say in how landscape depiction in his/her works (Zonn, 1990). Such an ideology is a concept known as “Auteur Theory.” It was developed in the 1950s, and states that a film is the artistic vision of the director, that this one person is solely responsible for the final film product (Truffaut, 1954). Filmmakers such as Alfred Hitchcock, François Truffaut, Sam Peckinpah, or more contemporary filmmakers like Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, Jim Jarmusch, Sofia Coppola, or the Coen Brothers basically have complete freedom to make films as they wish. I also place John Waters into this group of artists; These filmmakers enjoy a freedom to basically say whatever they like in their work, and can more easily avoid artistic meddling from studios, production companies, or talent agents. I mention this in order to be more assured that the material in Waters’ films consists of his voice only, and not that of anyone in the corporate filmmaking machinery. Films by these directors are not left for studio executives, editors, or producers to alter. Auteur theorists maintain that the director is the artist. While some directors leave the interpretation up to the audience, the decision to allow such freedom is for the director to

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make. Of course, any audience member will evaluate a film as they please, but if a filmmaker suggests that something in a film is meant in a particular way, any proponent of the auteur role of the filmmaker would then argue that the statement should be honored. I consider John Waters to be in this group of filmmakers. He completely writes, produces, and directs each of his films. It is easy to determine that the material in his films comes from him alone, thereby making the material much easier to attribute. This is another reason why I selected these films for the project. Because of his role as auteur, film scholars might consider Waters opinion the last word on the subject. I realize in reality, it is not. Any number of individuals derives any number of differing meanings from the same film. Conducting a study of this type would necessitate proper surveying of a gathered audience for which the films can be screened. For purposes of this study, I put emphasis on the literal dialogue and plot of the films, with emphasis on John Waters as the source of this material, while eschewing the surveying of audiences to gather data on their reception. Gibbs (2002) and MacDougall (1995) explain that viewers develop very complicated relationships with films they view. Films affect viewers through their cinematography, editing, dialogue, art direction, and plot. These elements “do not simply direct us to different visual points of view in a film but orchestrate a set of overlapping codes of position, narrative, metaphor, and moral attitude” (MacDougal, 223). An individual’s interpretation of a film, whether it is documentary, ethnographic, or fictional cinema, is the result of how we experience the complex fields this manipulation of elements creates. Differently formed visual texts both operate on and influence different viewers in their own unique ways (MacDougall, 1995). Gibbs (2002) explains that mise- en-scène, or the “visual style” of everything that appears in frame in a film, impress a substantial meaning of emotional tone or connection to narrative. Very early on in this process I realized the nearly infinite possibilities of film interpretation by an audience. To achieve this, I did not conduct any audience screenings or surveys. I would also suggest that in an effort to further reduce the number of unique audience interpretations, I selected a filmmaker whose cultural and social positionalities and identities at least somewhat mirror my own. Both Waters and I are gay, white, male, residents of the Mid- Atlantic, with a strong connection to the places of our upbringing and a fascination with

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the more subversive elements of society. Ideally I would have been successful in arranging an interview with Waters himself in order to get his exact opinions on the messages he, either intentionally included or unintentionally discovered in his work. Given that this interview did not take place, I was left to interpret his “closed texts” on my own. Martinez (1992) describes the difference between “open” and “closed” texts. He explains open texts as carrying a high level of semiotic or symbolic “movement”. This movement consists of a much more active interaction between audience and text, as well as intertextual relations; as such, the audience is invited to do much more of the interpretive work when compared to “closed” texts, which are considerably more unambiguous. Martinez also describes that open texts are typically created with some sort of “ideal” audience in mind; Martinez suggests such texts are susceptible to an effectively limitless range of potential readings. Given the unlimited array of possible interpretations, such texts were not ideal for this study. Water’s work is much more “closed”, in that his films carry specific information to be interpreted in a specific way. I came to this conclusion by noticing the manner in which he gives his audience very direct and specific information within the dialogue and plot progression that serve as a roadmap for interpreting the films. This pre-determined instruction substantially limits the variability of an audience’s interpretation. While such texts to not completely eliminate all alternate readings, they can focus more on the intended message of the filmmaker. Waters continually refers to his own work as depicting filthy characters committing lewd and immoral behavior. In that way he prepares his audience for what they are about to witness. His audience knows why they either love or loathe his work. He makes it quite clear. This project follows the basic methods and scope of other filmic case-studies within human geography and cultural anthropology. This project adds to these traditions, in that it gives serious attention to cult and underground cinema, a sub-genre of film. People view all sorts of mass media texts. They do not merely watch critically-acclaimed films, they view more television programming other than what is found on the biggest, most popular networks. Many people seek out more peripheral, alternative, subversive fare, as evidenced by the increasing number of niche television networks now in

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existance. Projects such as this are vital in providing a more complete analysis of mass media. Final Comments on Methods

Popular media culture is fairly ubiquitous in the lives of people around the world, and I argue these choices for entertainment are powerful in their ability to shape the imaginations and views of the audience. As such, mass media texts play a crucial role in understanding the world and its socio-cultural constructions. The use of visual ethnography and film (textual) discourse has proven to be useful tools in conducting social and cultural studies. I selected these two approaches over a number of possible methods used by several others in media studies. Given that I sought subjective evidence within the film texts, I found it inappropriate to utilize such methods. Content analysis is highly objective; it can easily cloak the subjective nature of filmic fictions. So then, discourse analysis as delineated by Mills (1997), rather than standard conventional critique, depicts urban spaces within the work of filmmaker John Waters. Pink’s (2007) work on visual ethnography provides a useful and insightful framework for this project. The real/reel duality and urban representation have been vital in more clearly understanding the films selected for this study. That is to say that each of these approaches contributes to understanding how cinema alters the attitudes towards spaces existing in the real world. The study centers on the idea that filmmakers use their work as a tool to make whatever statements they wish. They assume some degree of truth inherent in what ideas they are suggesting with their work, and that truth gets applied to what actually exists in the real world (Benshoff & Griffin, 2009; hooks, 2008; Jenkins, 1990; Natter and Jones, 1993; Wright, 1993). This study benefits greatly from another technique of analyzing film, the discourse of urban representation. This project adds to the body of work on urban productions that develop throughout film texts (Fitzmaurice & Shiel, 2009; Holtan, 1971; McLaughlin, 1975; Prakash, 2010). I believe Waters’ films I selected for this study demonstrate all three of Holtan’s (1971) assertions about urban representation in film: (1) relocation out of the city to find happiness, (2) city as taker of innocence, and (3) rural/urban othering.

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CHAPTER 4 – FILM EXPLICATIONS AND FINDINGS – EMPHASIZING CRITICAL ELEMENTS IN THE FILMS

This project is an analysis on the portrayed urban geographies of large urban spaces in Waters’ films. Because his work focuses intently on one specific city, Baltimore, Maryland, I am limiting my conclusions to that place. Nevertheless, the films described here are all set in one particular city, Baltimore, Maryland. I made the decision to conduct this study with films made by a filmmaker who had an ostensibly intimate knowledge and familiarity with some American city. The city of Baltimore is frequently portrayed in film, television, and stage productions. Barry Levinson is another Baltimore filmmaker who chooses to feature his hometown in his work. Avalon, Diner, Liberty Heights, and Tin Man are all Levinson pictures set in Baltimore. A sampling of other films set in Baltimore includes Terry Gilliam’s 12 Monkeys, Hitchcock’s Marnie, and Johnathan Demme’s Silence of the Lambs. The Wire is a critically-acclaimed television drama that provides an in-depth glimpse into Baltimore’s drug and gang culture through the lens of Baltimore’s political system as well as the gang members and drug dealers. The show, which ran from 2002 through 2008, depicts their interminable battle for control of the city. Baltimore is a real-life representation of some people’s trepidation regarding cities in general; Baltimore has been described as a city with high crime, gang problems, and large non-American populations as well as being a city with a large African- American population. The Wire focused on the drug trade in Baltimore throughout the 2000s. Tourists coming into the town tend to visit only one neighborhood, the gentrified Inner Harbor for attractions such as the National Aquarium or Baltimore Orioles baseball games. While being set in Baltimore, the series is ultimately a more broad commentary on urban life. I can conclude, then, that there are several different artists working with the same real-world space, producing a variety of different urban constructions. The previous discussion on textual analysis admits this is a typical occurrence; for every text on a subject, there is a unique perspective. This project focuses on the perspective of John Waters. I begin the analysis of the films with a brief synopsis of each of them.

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Film Synopses

Pink Flamingos – (1972) Following his first two feature-length films and several shorts, John Waters became a staple of counter-culture art with his 1972 film Pink Flamingos. This cult classic is an excellent case study in spaces of abjection and fear. Its relatively shocking content encountered controversy and scorn from the public, including being banned in Australia and some counties of Norway (Waters, 2005). It was the first motion picture to portray several perverse and taboo acts, including its infamous finale where the protagonist eats dog feces from a sidewalk. It was the first nationally-released film starring Divine, a female impersonator and close friend of John Waters. He played leading roles in many of Waters first films until his death in 1988. Pink Flamingos’ plot centers around Divine, and her attempt to retain the title “filthiest person alive” while a married couple, Connie and Raymond Marble, challenges her for that designation. I selected this film for the study principally because the film contributes to discussion of spaces of abjection in urban areas. Abject bodies, such as the characters in Pink Flamingos, are the basis for creation of the Other in the minds of individuals. Pink Flamingos stands as a tongue-in-cheek the embodiment of such abjection and the spaces made abject by these “unsavory” people. While the characters and actions in the film are cartoonishly extreme, they represent a very valid construction of the urban Other. The film demonstrates this by juxtaposing abject urban identities against more rural backdrops. In the film, Divine lives in a mobile home on the outskirts of Baltimore with her obese and infantile mother Edie, her criminal son Crackers, and her sex-addicted traveling companion Cotton. They have a history of perpetrating all manner of deviant acts, including larceny, vandalism, indecent exposure, and assault; but as of the beginning of the film, choose to retire to the relative tranquility of rural Maryland. As such, they adopt the pseudonym “Johnson” to further avoid attention. Their reputation brings them to the attention of Connie and Raymond Marble of Baltimore. This husband and wife team runs a baby mill where they kidnap prostitutes, impregnate them, and sell the babies to wealthy lesbian couples. Profits from this business fund a heroin ring aimed at

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elementary school children. They are an affluent Caucasian couple, employing a servant, Channing, to carry out the actual inseminating and disposal of the kidnapped women once they have died. The remainder if the film depicts the ensuing competition between these two factions to determine which is “filthiest”. I would suggest it has much to say in that regard to life in the city, as well as depicting Waters’ portrayal of the city, specifically the criminal element, as well as other social minorities, like homosexuals, transients, and zoophiles. In this chapter, I will discuss this portrayal, and how he depicts the main characters of Pink Flamingos, as well as how public servants like police officers and government workers reflect normal law- abiding society. I also discuss the dichotomy between the urban and rural settings throughout the film, and how each of these help to either camouflage or conversely emphasize abject people and spaces. When juxtaposed against dissimilar surroundings, I believe it serves to emphasize the qualities of the individuals. That is, urban dwellers typically function in the city in a completely anonymous, inconspicuous fashion because they match their surroundings, whether that is in their appearance, language, or actions. Finding themselves in different surroundings such as the countryside, urban populations in this film, represented by Divine and her family, become extremely conspicuous; their actions and appearance become greatly magnified. They do not attempt to fit into their new rural environs; Divine still wears her loud cocktail dresses and the family still commits the same illegal deeds as they did in Baltimore proper. Only in the country, they are noticed more easily by authorities and are ultimately forced to flee. The same deeds, when perpetrated within city limits, went regularly unnoticed by anyone. They are no longer hidden and anonymous; instead they are made vividly distinct, thereby making them more visible and more easily scrutinized. This kind of obvious transgression of space is the basis for any “fish-out-of-water” cinematic narrative (Lehman and Luhr, 1991). Such films derive their plot devices from pointing out how different some people can be from others when they suddenly find themselves out of their familiar spaces. In that way, Waters has made it easier to witness what it is within the urban identity of the characters in Pink Flamingos.

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The Baltimore of Pink Flamingos contains many normal bystanders going about their daily lives. For example, we see shopkeepers, postal workers, and military servicemen quietly and happily living life. Also residing amongst them are the Johnsons and Marbles. For untold years they have successfully gone about their days exposing themselves to passers-by, defecating on the lawns of affluent homeowners, and kidnapping random teenage girls among a litany of other odd, perverse, or illegal acts. Waters attempts to visually depict both the Johnsons and Marbles in a way that would reflect their illicit natures. He depicts the Marbles with brightly and obviously artificially colored hair. What will become a staple of the punk-rock aesthetic of the late 1970s and 1980s looks in 1972 extremely shocking and counter-culture. Divine’s garish makeup and skimpy wardrobe are also examples of more urban attire that serve to make her all the more conspicuous living in the countryside. This is especially true given that Divine is considerably overweight. There is scarcely a better representation of variation from cultural norm than the primary characters in this film.

Hairspray – (1988) Lying underneath the surface of a seemingly docile family comedy is a very real commentary on how people can loathe and fear parts of the city as well as some of the people populating them. Hairspray is set in Baltimore in 1962, amid the racial tensions of segregation common in many areas of the United States during that time. In the film, the protagonist is Tracy Turnblad, an overweight teenager who seeks to join the cast of her favorite television dance program, The Corny Collins Show. Eventually, Tracy gains the opportunity to join the cast. Through their involvement in the program, they befriend several black teenagers, much to the dismay of several white members of the community, including Tracy’s parents and teachers. Racial tensions mount throughout the film, culminating in a race riot at the local amusement park. Eventually, Tracy and her friends succeed in integrating The Corny Collins Show. Hairspray is considered Waters’ family-friendly comedy. Its PG rating is the tamest for any of Waters’ feature-length motion pictures, and stands as his most mainstream work to date. The film readily exhibits othering processes such as race-based exclusionary practices and the establishment of abject urban spaces set in Baltimore

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during mid-twentieth century racial segregation. In the film, Baltimore consists of essentially two separate cities: a white one and a black one. Some white characters are terrified to venture into the black neighborhoods, while others work to keep their white territories off-limits to non-whites. Difference of race is the primary motivation of exclusionary practices in Hairspray. Race is also the attribute in which us/them dualisms form. Such otherness often develops into fear and abjection. Through the course of Hairspray, Tracy, the film’s protagonist becomes acutely aware of the racial tension and discrimination taking place around her. Many of the affluent white characters in the film utilize various dialogue and actions to exhibit their detest and fear of black citizens as well as the spaces they occupy in Baltimore; whites repeatedly refer to the black population of Baltimore as “dirty”, “savage”, or “dangerous.” Black citizens cannot gain access to spaces reserved for white citizens, and white parents forbid their children from venturing into predominantly black areas of town. Those white citizens that choose to side with the desegregationist movement also receive similar disdain. Given the setting and plot of the film, the bulk of this discussion focuses on difference of race and how this difference contributes to the city of fear. The film depicts the conflict between black and white citizens in Baltimore during the time in American history when many cities were experiencing similar racial upheavals. There is a history in the United States of particularly racist treatment of African-Americans; Hairspray emphasizes this history when describing the spatial distribution of Baltimore’s citizens into racially segregated spaces. In the film, black citizens are constantly referred to as “dirty”, “dangerous”, “foreign”, or simply different and incomprehensible. White citizens see the abject personified by their black counterparts. Some instances in the film depict transgression of abject space when whites venture into predominantly black neighborhoods. Due to this, some white residents repeatedly implement various exclusionary practices. Throughout the film, Waters describes certain neighborhoods or streets in Baltimore as white or black territories. Later I highlight some of the attitudes put forth by various characters, the abject people and spaces the white hegemony constructs, and exclusionary actions they take to defend their territory from undesirable urbanites.

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A Dirty Shame – (2004) Following his experimentation with more family-friendly material, Waters returns to his cult-film roots with his 2004 release A Dirty Shame. This film describes a neighborhood in Baltimore amid its residents’ attempts to defend their territory from encroachment by outside forces considered immoral and vulgar. A group of sex addicts move into the Harford Road area of Northeastern Baltimore. Through various character’s spoken dialogue, Waters informs us that prior to the addicts’ arrival, Harford Road was a very mundane place inhabited by “neuters”, that is to say, people believing they live a very morally upright existence. Each of the addicts displays one of several unique fetishes that offend the more puritanical residents who reject any activity deemed immoral or disgusting. Sexual activity considered deviant is a common source of abjection, and citizens can often establish territorial defenses to guard their spaces from such undesired societal elements. The sex addicts in this film are embodiments of both urban inhabitants and the fears that come when these citizens are juxtaposed with suburbanites. The neighborhood in the film is the representation of the typical middle- class neighborhood, and the contested space between urban and suburban identities. In A Dirty Shame, deeds perpetrated in city spaces play an important role in emphasizing the urban other in much the same way as the countryside did in Pink Flamingos. That is to say, abject urban space, as well as the countryside, are places where certain behavior is considered inappropriate, and therefore made all the more blatant and wrong. A Dirty Shame depicts the territorial struggle between a group of “sex addicts” and a group of citizens living in the Harford Road neighborhood of Baltimore. The self- described “neuters” mobilize to rid their neighborhood of all depravity brought forth by the sex addicts. The addicts mean no harm to any of their new neighbors, having no malice toward anyone, but the neuters feel that the sex addicts pose a serious threat to their neighborhood and lifestyle. The behavior of the neuters represent the fears of those who feel their space is being infiltrated by those who belong in the inner city, or at least display traits commonly attributed to city dwellers. One neuter woman in the film directly confronts a specific female sex addict, calling her a “whore” and suggesting that she “should move downtown where (she) belong(s)”. Here, we can see a formulation of the urban identity as sexually deviant. Sexuality is to A Dirty Shame what criminal behavior

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is to Pink Flamingos, and as race is to Hairspray, that is, they illustrate one potentially subversive quality Waters frequently attaches to Baltimore. Where Pink Flamingos takes place largely in the rural periphery of Baltimore, and Hairspray took place mainly in Baltimore’s inner city, A Dirty Shame depicts spaces somewhere in between these two extremes. It takes place near the city limits, adjacent to its inner ring of suburbs. Harford Road runs from central Baltimore, north and east to the city limits, and into the countryside, until it terminates near Bel Air, Maryland some twenty miles away. The neighborhood in A Dirty Shame seems much more suburban than the neighborhoods in Hairspray. Waters depicts Harford Road much more stereotypically, in that the neighborhood’s residents are homogeneously Caucasian and, while not wealthy, noticeably more financially well-off than in the Baltimore neighborhoods Tracy Turnblad grew to love in Hairspray or the streets where Divine paraded in Pink Flamingos. Indeed, Harford Road appears to be a decidedly “typical” middle-class American neighborhood: that is to say Waters depicts it as being safe, secure, unaffected by dangers elsewhere in town; he constructs it as a “clean slate” upon which the dregs of the city can be more clearly emphasized. He achieves this by depicting the neighborhood as utterly average, safe, and suburban. At the beginning of the film, we are introduced to a married heterosexual couple new to town from Washington D.C. Waters portrays them as well-meaning, genteel, and generally responsible. They claim to have moved there because they like that Baltimore is “a real city of diversity.” This statement in the first five minutes of the narrative lays the foundation for the conflict to come. Waters depicts Sylvia and Vaughn Stickles, the protagonists, as a completely average, if well-meaning married couple; both work at the Pinewood Park & Pay, a local convenience store. One morning, on their way into work, they happen by several people moving into the neighborhood. One house specifically is the new home of the “Three Bears,” a gay polyamorous set of men who identify as “bears”. Bears are generally in touch with a more physically masculine side of their gender, including larger, overweight body size, body hair, and affinity with rather (stereo)typical masculine elements of society, like sports or manual labor. They are a subculture within a subculture. This specific family displays not only homosexuality, but polyamory and promiscuity, three

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elements not typically thought of in mundane suburban life. One of them comments to Vaughn: “When we take over, it’s gonna be a…Bearquake!” Here they make it clear that they are moving into the neighborhood for the foreseeable future, with no intention of leaving. They seem to mean well, but their insistence that they wish to be firmly planted in on Harford Road worries several long-time residents. This is the basis for the entire film, the emergence of new elements in a neighborhood, and the objection of it by the established populace. Long-time residents of Harford Road see their space as an island of safety and normalcy surrounded by urban Others. When these Others start to move in, they demand that someone immediately restore order. Their first move is an appeal to the legal system and law enforcement. When that fails, they take matters upon themselves. Abjection in Waters’ Work

Having provided some background regarding the basic plotlines of the films, I now turn to specific discussion of the various elements of the discourse of urban fear. Here, I begin with abjection. Abjection in Pink Flamingos Certain locations within the setting of Pink Flamingos embody the idea of abject spaces. The residence of Connie and Raymond Marble is the epitome of abject space in the city, in that it is the setting for a variety of morally and legally objectionable activities. While the house would be abject in any setting, its situation within Baltimore proper adds to the negative reputation of cities, as places where such people committing horrible deeds can freely operate. The exterior of their house looks like any other neighborhood dwelling. It is a simple two-story white house with a well-kept lawn and hedges. It sits on a street occupied by other unassuming houses with unassuming physical features. It is a simple but effective cover for the horrible deeds that go on inside the house. Here, in their basement, they hold the teenage girls they kidnap for purposes of impregnating and selling their babies on the black market. The Marbles keep Channing, their servant, equally captive. They use him to impregnate the prisoners. The Marbles operate the entire operation from their house, completely unbeknownst to neighbors, police, or the media. No one stops to interact with the Marbles. The house is a safe haven

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for their activities. That is to say that if it were known by others what was occurring in that house, it would quickly be ended. The Marbles’ house stands as a metaphor for the urban spaces in which any variety of social difference can thrive unnoticed by other citizens; people can be quite ignorant of the population and events taking place in particular neighborhoods in the city. Frequently this occurs across lines of race, class, ethnicity, or sexuality. For instance, wealthy suburbanites can be fairly ignorant of the socio-cultural constitutions of ghettos. They can possibly suspect any variety of horrible conditions in any inner-city residence. Of course residents of the inner city can be equally ignorant of affluent suburbs. The exterior walls of the Marbles’ house acts as a mask for what is really going on within. I noticed his kind of ignorance with regard to law enforcement as well within the films; I suggest that those who feel negatively toward the city describe several “bad” neighborhoods as places where police are too afraid to go, even in the day. The possibility of danger comes from the social difference between resident and outsider. Residents of such neighborhoods see law enforcement as a possible adversary; the same holds true for the police when considering the residents (Harcourt, 2001; Hubbard, 2004; Russell, 1998). I do not suggest that the Marbles are left alone because people are afraid of them. Instead, they are free to lead their lives; media texts often characterize urbanites as desensitized, or too busy with their own lives to be concerned with their neighbors. Such acceptance or apathy leads to a wide variety of cultural and social variation to not only exist, but thrive. The freedom to move, live, and be exists not only in private space within the city, but spills over into public space as well. In fact, large urban areas, like nowhere else in space, provide more freedom to be as one is than any other location. The spaces of Baltimore in Waters’ films attest to that fact. Both the Marbles and Divine live and operate completely freely within Baltimore. They are confident in their movements and actions, with no question about the success of their plans. Raymond Marble is frequently shown lurking about city parks exposing himself to female passers-by. He is seen dressed in nothing but a trench coat, the flasher’s traditional garb. He is almost trying to get noticed by anyone, but, being surrounded by the city’s pre-occupied and desensitized population, it goes relatively undetected. The

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one exception of this is the group of individuals Raymond targets for harassment, those whom he flashes; they take complete, if unwanted, notice of him. This kind of hiding in plain sight serves only to emphasize whatever oddity, danger, and filth might exist in- town. That characters such as the Marbles can operate with such a high degree of freedom speaks to the fact that they have successfully transformed these urban spaces into abject territory. The parks, streets, and retail shops become associated with such activities. People seldom question or reject these spaces, but those who do not identify with such behavior often avoid them. Divine experiences the same freedom of movement when she returns to downtown Baltimore. In one scene, she ventures from her home into town; her first stop is to a small grocery store, where she steals meat from the butcher’s counter by hiding it underneath her skirt. She then proceeds to take a leisurely stroll around town, taking in the sights. She stops in a park to take in the view of downtown. She triumphantly surveys Baltimore as a place she seems to own. At the very least, she seems to identify with it, proven by her completely confident, bold, yet unapologetic jaunt through town in the first act of the film. It is where she can be herself and does not have to hide or pretend to be anything other than what she really is. This scene proves that Waters depicts Baltimore as an abject space, for Divine, an abject individual, experiences such freedom, even anonymity, living in that space. At the same time, some reject that identical freedom and variety of human culture present in larger cities as a sign of obvious cultural difference (Caldeira, 2000; Nowell-Smith, 2001; Thompson, 1998). Abjection in Hairspray Midway through the film, Waters shows Tracy Turnblad, the film’s protagonist, and her best friend Penny Pingleton socializing with several African-American teenagers in a Baltimore record shop located in a black ghetto. “Motormouth” Maybelle, the host of the monthly “Negro Day” on The Corny Collins Show, owns the shop. Tracy and Penny have accepted and befriended those of other races, and have no difficulty travelling into previously unknown spaces in their city. Tracy even expresses her excitement at this prospect during their bus trip to that destination. Once at the shop, they hear a new kind of music, the Motown sound popular with black youth of the day. They also try to learn

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to perform dances popular with black teenagers. Waters depicts Penny’s mother as the antithesis of this sort of acceptance and enthusiasm. Mrs. Pingleton is panic-stricken when she learns of her daughter’s trip into that neighborhood. She then perceives the need to venture into this neighborhood to rescue her daughter. She perceives the journey as travelling into a savage wasteland where sub- humans threaten her and her daughter’s safety. In this scene, she declares: I know you were snatched, Penny, and I’ve come to save you!

When approached by a black homeless man asking for change, she immediately thinks he wants to rob her. She quickly volunteers her entire purse. At one point, she begs assistance from a police officer. As the police officer then reveals himself to be black as well, she is horrified that even the ranks of law enforcement have been infiltrated by some of the very black “savages” from which she seeks protection. Waters describes the scene in the film’s screenplay: …We see a police car pull by and stop at light. Mrs. Pingleton approaches cop, he turns around and she sees he’s black. She screams in terror and runs back toward record store in hysterics. Cop laughs in astonishment.

To her, in this instance in time, this neighborhood inverts the natural order of things. For her, this neighborhood is clearly an abject space. Life in this neighborhood is a complete reversal from the safe white haven she typically inhabits. The horror of facing the Other is more than she can handle, and she flees the area as soon as she has accomplished her goal, the rescue of her daughter from a similar fate at the hands of, as she puts it, “native women” and others. Once she arrives at the record store, she sees Penny and Tracy together with their friends, the crowd of black teenagers dancing a “Dirty Boogie” and immediately assumes they kidnapped the two white girls. She barges in and pulls a weapon (a nail file) in self-defense. Upon leaving the shop with her daughter, Waters makes the children’s laughter quite apparent at the absurdity of the situation. In this scene, he uses abjection to great comedic effect. Ford (1994) remarks on the value of cinematography, set design, and art direction to place depiction in film. Gold (1974) reinforces that value. Waters’ choices in set design and art direction depict the ghetto as not particularly dirty or dangerous; the streets

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are well-lit with little space hidden in shadow, or around blind corners. A few residents were out in their yards and front porches enjoying the nice weather; no one, save for Mrs. Pingleton, seemed anxious, distressed, or afraid to be there. Also, there is very little trash strewn about the sidewalks and alleys. The streets seemed relatively clean. While the housing was not as grandiose as what might be found in a gated community, it did not appear to be an unkempt or neglected space. I argue this was Waters’ way of suggesting that the ghetto in Mrs. Pingleton’s imagination is a much more fearful and dangerous place than as it exists in reality. Waters explains, through the scene’s art direction and set design, that the condition places exist in reality are not the way observers may imagine them. Instead of properly observing these places as they exist, many people finding themselves in new surroundings tend to rely on their own perceptions, as well as the hearsay of those around them. Mrs. Pingleton simply assumes that since mostly black residents inhabit this neighborhood, then she is in danger of getting mugged, propositioned, or assaulted. This corresponds to what Holtan (1971) and Prakash (2010) believe about urban imagery in film, that is, directors frequently depict cities as site of the decaying of human innocence and moral compass. Waters uses this scene to depict certain urban neighborhoods as frequently misunderstood. As this scene relates to themes of abjection in space, we see how Mrs. Pingleton, being the mother of one of the protagonists, represents older, outdated, racist ideologies, which project African-Americans, indeed all non-white people, into abject entities, thereby transforming those spaces they occupy into the abject as well. Also, those reared in more racially heterogeneous places, like large cities, seem more apt to accept difference, although this is not always the case (Russell, 1998; Schiffauer, 2006). There is no metaphorical wall dividing Tracy Turnblad and her white friends from black teenagers in Baltimore. The same cannot be said for most of the older adults depicted in the film. Mrs. Pingleton would not expect to see such social inversions in her safe suburban neighborhood or in smaller rural communities. Characters such as Mrs. Pingleton imagine the inner city as a place where order collapses, and those at the peak of society are effortlessly thrust down into the mire with everyone else. Waters re-enforces this point in the scenes I recently described, including her journey into a predominantly black

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neighborhood. It is these kinds of inversions that create an uncomfortable, even frightening setting for those used to a very structured society (Goode and Ben-Yehuda, 1994; Grosz, 1995). Another place where these inversions occur in Hairspray is the mass media, typified by the popular teen after-school dance program, The Corny Collins Show. The show features only white teenagers dancing to their favorite songs of the day. Only once per month are non-white teens allowed on the show, the so-called “Negro Day.” I will speak more of this in the section on exclusion. Abjection in A Dirty Shame Waters depicts most of the addicts’ exploits as taking place in full view of the neuters living amongst them. The film depicts many things occurring both indoors, in the relative safety of the sex addicts’ domiciles, and out in plain view of any passer-by. Much like the points made with Pink Flamingos, the choice to situate actions against spaces of open areas serves to point out or emphasize the act’s lurid or morally questionable nature. I also argue that deeds done in such a free and unhindered manner become more objectionable due to their setting. Such actions also serve to transform the neighborhood into abject space. The opening scene of the film re-enforces this. The film opens with the Stickles going up to their garage apartment where their daughter, Caprice, lives. They are bringing her breakfast before they head out to work. Law enforcement confined Caprice to house arrest after finding her guilty of indecent exposure at a local bar; she is a self-proclaimed exhibitionist, and police caught her loitering outside of the bar completely nude. Vaughn states: “The ‘government’ wants (her) to stay indoors for a while, huh?” Society deemed her actions not fit for public display. Due to this string of events, Caprice experiences a surge in her reputation throughout Harford Road as a harlot and drug addict. Nudity can be deemed abject, although everyone is nude at various points in life. This goes back to what Fusco (2007) and Han (2007) say about everyone being abject at some point in life. That is, no one can avoid abject states at specific instances in life; everyone, at some point, exhibit states of nudity, sexual activity, or perhaps elimination of bodily waste. Here, Caprice learns the legal implications of exhibiting abject states in public space. When it is done in privacy, it is not abject or taboo. When done in public space, it frequently is (Brickell, 2000; Ellickson, 1996).

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The meetings held by the neuters to negate the addict’s new influence in the neighborhood. Almost every incident described involved public sex acts. One person’s anecdotal monologue went as follows: I found a used condom in my back yard. You think that’s bad? Somebody wrote the word ‘boner’ on our parking lot wall last night.

Similar complaints from other residents maintain the outrage and perception of danger. Various attendees of that same meeting offer several instances of sexual behavior observed as of late: “On my way over here, I saw a man performing oral sex on a lady in a car in broad daylight!”

“Lesbians are taking over the softball fields!”

“I live near what they call ‘The Bear House.’ Last night, hairy overweight men who call themselves bears were having sex outside the house. My children heard them. ‘Mommy, what’s that noise?’ They actually asked me. I raced outside clapping my hands loudly and I yelled…’No blow jobs!’ And they just laughed. Some of them even growled at me.”

In A Dirty Shame, frightened residents do not have to venture into the heart of the city to experience their fears. The city, manifested through the sex addicts, comes to them. The neuters and their ilk think that anyone daring to exhibit such activities in public are surely bankrupt morally and hopeless socially (Goode & Ben-Yehuda, 1994). A summary of abjection in Waters’ work

In film texts, people can fear places due to their attachment with who may occupy those places. Waters’ films vividly depict such abject people, the spaces these people occupy, and the negative responses to these spaces by some. Douglas (1984), Moran (1996), and Sibley (1981) all highlight various qualities of individuals, such as race, sexuality, or class, that sometimes elicit negative reactions or sentiment from others. Waters populates his films with characters that fill the complete spectrum of human identity, including the qualities mentioned here. He commonly juxtaposes people of different identities to create his narratives. Criminals meet up with law-abiding citizens in

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Pink Flamingos, whites with blacks in Hairspray, and heterosexuals with homosexuals in A Dirty Shame. Inevitably in his films, these juxtapositions create tension, if not blatant animosity and fear. Direct juxtaposition of such dualities serves to break down the boundary between the two. Such transgressions lead to the creation of abjection within individuals (Cresswell, 1997; Hubbard, 2002; Kristeva, 1982). We can see this in Waters’ work, whether it is in Hairspray with Mrs. Pingleton’s panic attack at the thought of having to venture into a black neighborhood, or in A Dirty Shame when a neighborhood of “neuters” meet several new neighbors, each exhibiting a unique sexual fetish. In general, people are comfortable being around members of groups with which they themselves identify; they are, conversely, quite uncomfortable when brought into direct contact with those not considered part of such groups. When people identify themselves as part of some social, religious, race, ethnic, or class-based group, the natural consequence is the creation of “the Other.” The Other is the difference from one’s self, and the perception that everyone not associated with one’s perceived identity is somehow the fundamental opposite (Kapferer, 1996; McClintock et al., 1997; Woodward, 1997). This project has focused on othering based in a disconnection or alienation from large urban spaces generally. Cities are typically more culturally heterogeneous than smaller incorporated areas, and the higher population densities of cities requires that people there, displaying these socio-cultural differences, share a much more intimate living arrangement than they might in smaller communities or rural areas. There is much more opportunity to contact the Other in such settings. Being brought into direct contact or juxtaposition with the Other is the basis of abjection. It is the complete antithesis of familiar comfort: it is uncertain, it is foreign, it is uncomfortable. Frequently, urban neighborhoods cause feelings of horror, distrust, or foreignness within the minds of some people, and this fear is based largely in the fear of difference. The films analyzed here often depict residents of Baltimore coming into direct contact with abject characters and spaces. The Johnson family of Pink Flamingos is the key example. Once placed against much more rural surroundings, their tawdry lifestyle seems all the more obvious. Once taken out of the city, their camouflage of urban Baltimore cannot protect them from the eyes of the audience, or, as we see in the narrative, the local authorities. A Dirty Shame also addresses the idea of background as betrayer of

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abjection. In that film, Waters uses public space within the city to emphasize the exploits of several sex addicts in one neighborhood. Given the population densities of cities mentioned earlier, strangers patronize public space much more frequently. As such, there is a much greater likelihood of contact with “the Other” here. This displacement helps to create abjection. If the sex acts depicted in the film confined their activities to within the participant’s domiciles, then would there be such an outcry for decency laws? Here is one of my main arguments: when certain remain restricted to the space deemed proper for those acts, then there is no real rejection of the acts. When the acts spill over into spaces considered off-limits, then that creates abject spaces, and causes real/reel strife. When people fear others, marginalization of these people frequently occurs; they are cast into status of the outsider (Miller, 1997; Moran, 1996). There is a sort of social quarantining of the marginalized into specific spaces; we can see this in Hairspray as white citizens try to simultaneously keep black citizens in their own neighborhoods, and out of the white-controlled parts of town, including the Tilted Acres park. Law enforcement frequently intervenes to ensure people stay away from where those in power do not want them. Their actions did not change from when they lived in-town; they merely carried out their lifestyle in a new setting outside of Baltimore proper. As soon as they gain exposure by the new rural surroundings, they became much more visible, and subject to police authority. We see this in Pink Flamingos, when the Johnson family flees their home in rural Maryland, due to imminent police apprehension. People attribute characteristics to spaces dependent upon the qualities exhibited by those who populate those spaces. If a group of people develop a reputation or image of being dangerous, then the neighborhoods they inhabit take on the same dangerous qualities themselves. Several cultural and social geographers argue that abject spaces are an extension of the abject human bodies that inhabit, and therefore, construct, them (Grosz, 1998; Longhurst, 2000; Pile, 1996; Squire, 2009). We see in Pink Flamingos how Waters constructs Baltimore as a place where the Johnsons and Marbles freely roam to perpetrate whatever vile deeds they wish. This implies the connection between individual and place, in that if they were in unfamiliar, foreign spaces, they would not feel the ability to act as they wish. This can be seen in the Marbles being killed when they are forced to operate outside of their urban comfort zone, and the Johnsons’ being forced to abandon Maryland

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altogether once they had to live out of city limits. People can identify urban spaces with the types of criminal and sexual behavior seen in Water’s work. This leads to apprehension of, if not outright revulsion of these urban spaces. People construct abject spaces in the imagination based on a few various factors, including negative mass media portrayals of place and space. Macek (2000) points out the media’s habit of demonizing urban spaces particularly within the last two decades. These entities tend to create a dichotomy between the morally vacant city and the safe, moral, structured suburban lifestyle. Further, dominant hegemonies often scapegoat the underclass into being solely responsible for the underprivileged, dangerous, or socially-liable (through unemployment) state of many city spaces. Waters’ work is a prime example of such tendencies seen in “real” life reflected in film. Socio-Spatial Exclusion in Waters’ Work

Exclusion in Pink Flamingos Characters are often placed in unfamiliar situations, and the resulting tension and awkwardness can make for interesting storytelling. One specific type of fish out of water is when a city dweller finds him or herself in the countryside. Complications inevitably occur when they have to maneuver through life outside the city. The countryside can emphasize the personality, characteristics, and tendencies of the city-dweller by their displacement out of the city, and juxtaposition against very dissimilar surroundings. City Slickers, La gloire de mon père, Did You Hear About the Morgans?, Funny Farm, and The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert are all examples of this sort of film. While Pink Flamingos is not strictly part of this group, some scenes in the film demonstrate similar narratives. That is to say that the Johnsons operate under the cover of camouflage in the city, as there are likely far more people there that are similar in appearance to the Johnsons and Marbles. In the countryside, they clash with the otherwise pristine, quaint, agrarian sensibilities of that setting. Given the vastly different backdrop from the city setting that molded their identities, the Johnsons contrast deeply against it, and therefore stand out. This serves to highlight the Johnson’s urban character; once made more visible, they much more easily succumb to exclusion by being banished from the area entirely. Local law enforcement track down the Johnsons and force them to go into hiding to avoid capture and incarceration. Notice again that it is only when the

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Johnsons move into the countryside that they attract the attention of the local authorities. They never encountered any legal repercussions while committing their lewd acts while actually in Baltimore proper. Divine and her family move out of Baltimore, into the woods outside of the suburb of Phoenix, Maryland. In the first minutes of the film, the narrator explains that they initially do this in order to more easily live a life of quiet anonymity. Journalists documented their previous exploits in local magazines, and the attention is making their lifestyle much more difficult to maintain. As they go about their lives in their new surroundings, the contrast between city and country becomes blatant. For instance, Divine, in her clownish makeup, cocktail dress, and heels, has a difficult time walking on the dirt path on their property. The imagery repeatedly depicts that family trying to exist in a setting so patently different from their comfort zone. There are several shots of Divine and her son, Crackers, as well as the Marbles, outside amongst the trees and chirping birds. Their garish appearance as well as the vividly artificial hair colors worn by the Marbles clashes with the more quaint country setting. While admittedly the characters are blatantly exaggerated in their appearance and actions, I read them as Waters’ effort to identify them specifically with Baltimore, that is to say, with the city in general. Crackers does not actually live in the mobile home with the rest of the family. Instead, he sleeps in the hen house adjacent to it. This could be read to suggest he is as inhuman as the chickens with which he shares the coop. Also, one of the more infamous scenes in Pink Flamingos depicts a particularly close relationship between humans and the chickens in the coop. In it, Crackers incorporates a live chicken in a sex act between himself and his date. He brings his date into the coop, and proceeds to stuff the live chicken between the two of them as they copulate. Here, the barrier between human and inhuman collapses. This scene speaks to my original research questions in that this depiction of bestiality portrays urbanites as those that would commit deeds that are at best eccentric, and at worst socially and morally taboo. This type of behavior is emblematic of the justifications some use for their fear and distrust of urban places and people who reside there. This also lends to the negative perceptions of city life; it depicts actions perpetrated by those that both originate from and identify with the city, and made

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transparent by their occurrence in the countryside. It insinuates that city-dwellers can be as wild and untamed as livestock. This would establish the dichotomy between an inhuman wilderness (the countryside), with the human wilderness (the city). Order returns when we see non-human species constituting the wild. When we see human beings as the wild, it constitutes a reversal of order, and the space where this occurs then becomes abject. Again, abject individuals suffer ostracism from spaces where the powers-that-be, such as law enforcement and the press, deem them to be excluded. Exclusion in Hairspray The core of Hairspray’s plot lies in the racial integration of Tracy Turnblad’s favorite television program, the Corny Collins Show. Black teenagers only gain entry into the program’s cast once every month, during “Negro Day.” The show’s administration goes so far as to shoot the Negro Day episodes in an entirely separate location, thereby preserving some racist “sterility” of the regular studio used for the white cast. Additionally, Mr. Hodgepile, the station’s general manager, freely admits that he does not consider Baltimore’s citizenry to be “ready” to see an integrated version of Corny Collins. In one scene, three teenage girls audition to be the next new Corny Collins cast member. Two of the contestants are Tracy and Penny, with the third being a black teenage girl named Nadine. The audition council consists of Corny Collins, his assistant Tammy, and several current cast members. It’s obvious that the younger council members want no part of allowing Nadine to pass the audition. They harshly grill her on her familiarity and comfort level with dancing to “white music” typically played on the show. The council essentially ignores Nadine’s answers, and quickly dismisses her from consideration. During Tracy’s audition, the council asks her if she would swim in an integrated pool. When she admits that she would, several council members wince in disapproval. The council succeeds in defending their territory from infiltration by the black Other. They fear that allowing African-Americans access to one aspect of strictly white society will trigger a series of similar infiltrations citywide. They fear that “their” space will no longer be theirs (Low, 2003; Malmberg, 1980). While those in charge of events like Corny Collins vehemently defend their established territory, disallowing non-white participants into their areas, the main white

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characters readily gain entry into the space occupied by the black teens at their dances and hops. These dances occur in a dance hall in a black neighborhood. The African- American teens there gladly welcome Tracy and her friends into such settings. In fact, the first romantic exchange between individuals of different races happens at the black-only dance. It seems that only white citizens are concerned with closely monitoring who goes where and who warrants permission to be in certain places. The spaces occupied by the oppressed are shown as being the most accepting and safe spaces for anyone (Agnew, 2003). Penny and her African-American love interest Seaweed, “go to second base” (as Penny describes it) in the relative safety and protection of the blacks-only dance. Such behavior between individuals of different races likely would not have been tolerated within the studio where Corny Collins broadcasts. It suggests that The Corny Collins Show exhibits qualities true of many hegemonic socio-spatial constructions; there is a clear imagined partition between that which is allowed and that which is rejected. Here we see another instance of the breakdown of the imagined social order, and the negative sentiment it generates among those in social power. We can also see here the manifestation of this order in space, and how these kinds of occurrences within large urban areas are juxtaposed against the much more diverse urban populace. Mass media entities, such as television stations, radio stations, and newspapers exist to serve an entire community, not just one section of it (Pitman, 2002). Although admittedly, several media outlets do exist catering to certain groups, such as Spanish-language newspapers, or television programming geared toward the African-American community. Nevertheless, any media content is there for everyone who would choose to have it. The white station owner feels a certain attachment to The Corny Collins Show, and does not want it influenced by outside players. He fears that certain Baltimore citizens will take it away from him. He does not want the black part of Baltimore to take part in that city’s media entities, although he would not complain at all to hear that ratings of his programs include non-white viewers. Exclusion in A Dirty Shame

Along with the Three Bears, the audience meets several other sex addicts living in Harford Road. These residents demonstrate all manner of sexualities and fetishes ; among them frottage, age regression, mysophilia, and exhibitionism. It takes very little time for

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Ethel, Sylvia’s mother, also working at the Park & Pay, to mobilize several concerned citizens to protest the infiltration. According to Ethel: “Used to be Harford Road was for families…now they got blatant homosexuals shopping right in our store…Did you see the new neighbors moving in? Grown men with hairy legs prancing around half naked…’we’re bears.’ What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

The preceding dialogue was Ethel speaking to a local police officer in her store. She then goes further to implore that he step in using his role in law enforcement to put down the infiltration: …we got laws to protect decency…and it would be nice if somebody enforced them…Perverts are taking over this neighborhood.

Soon after, Ethel organizes a concerned citizens meeting at the Park & Pay. There, several others voice their concerns, each regaling the meeting with incidents of public sex acts noticed in recent weeks. As they get more and more agitated from the anecdotes, one woman proclaims: “I mean, Jesus…for Christ’s sake! I’m moving to Towson!” Here again we see the imagined safety and tranquility of the suburbs when compared to tawdry goings-on in Baltimore. Harford Road is on the periphery of Baltimore, and fairly distanced (spatially and culturally) from the inner city; while it is not a proper suburb, Waters depicts it as functioning culturally like one. A Dirty Shame speaks to the ways in which some individuals appeal to established law enforcement in order to achieve their desired result: the expulsion of undesirable people within given spaces. Some in the film go so far as to threaten to remove themselves if the undesirables do not get removed. Summary of socio-spatial exclusion in Waters’ work

I previously described how the basis of exclusionary practice is the disproportionate distribution of power among groups in society. Groups tend to use such exclusionary practices to establish their power. Hegemonies of race, class, sexuality, or gender can influence people’s access to specific parts of space. In urban centers, large numbers of people gather into a relatively small area, and this juxtaposition of several cultural variances can create negative tension between those of different cultural identities.

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And those with power frequently separate themselves from what they consider repugnant or dangerous, while simultaneously keeping the moral underclass, the source of their fear, hemmed in to very discreet boundaries, thereby creating spaces where those with power know not to go in order to avoid that which they fear. It is this increased juxtaposition found in cities that creates Othering in general. Waters features this in Pink Flamingos. Divine is a career criminal and miscreant. Her son Crackers is a murderer and zoophile, while her arch nemeses, Connie and Raymond Marble, run a black market baby mill right from their Baltimore residence. The film describes the fact that all characters function completely freely within the city limits. They get away with whatever depravity and illegality they wish. Only when Pink Flamingos’ characters are taken out of their familiar and comfortable element, and forced into the countryside is their behavior emphasized, and ultimately noticed by law enforcement. In this film, the Other is the deviant, criminal element of urban life; it is this element that people wish to avoid by avoiding urban spaces in general. Hairspray is clear in its depiction of racial hegemonies in the city. White residents clearly hold the power in the film’s first scenes. They limit black inhabitants into occupying very specific residential spaces within Baltimore. They disallow black teenagers from to participating in The Corny Collins Show, perhaps recounting the way in which mass media paints an unfairly biased picture of all of its inhabitants. Some spaces, like the Tilted Acres amusement park are off limits for black residents in the film. The scene depicting the race riot offers an idea of just the type of violent consequences that come with transgressing boundaries established by those in power. A Dirty Shame depicts more instances of people being denied access to space based on cultural difference. Where Hairspray focused on race, A Dirty Shame focused on sexuality. A number of sex addicts begin moving into Harford Road in Baltimore; the film describes the long- standing tradition of quiet, law-abiding “neuters”, and how they are extremely unsettled when quite conspicuous homosexual, polyamorous, and exhibitionist individuals begin living adjacent to them. The “neuters” hold the power in the neighborhood, and seek to drive out any unwanted presence. With these three films, Waters shows how people who hold power seek to take total control over space and dictate where certain people and

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activities are allowed. In the framework of urban fear, such power keeps perceived danger, illegality, and immorality in the city, and away from the dominant groups. When those in power perceive a threat to their way of life, they often beseech the assistance of law enforcement and the legislative process to achieve their goals. The criminalization of space to achieve socio-spatial exclusion is a commonly-used tool. It is seen throughout the work of John Waters. Hairspray contains a fascinating scene in which Mrs. Pingleton, a middle-class white parent is forced to venture into a black neighborhood to retrieve her daughter, Penny from whatever imagined peril she may face while in that neighborhood. One of the first actions taken by Mrs. Pingleton is to seek help from a police officer she finds on the street. She reels in horror as she discovers that the officer is black; the very type of person she fears has infiltrated the ranks of the police force. A Dirty Shame contains a scene in which “Big Ethel” the leader of the “neuter resistance” appeals to a local police officer to assist them in ridding the neighborhood of the sex addicts. In this particular scene, the officer reminds Ethel that everyone has a right to exist in space as they see fit. This reply is not met favorably by Ethel, who then takes it upon herself to do what the police will not. While the police officer in A Dirty Shame refuses to help, the scene does comment on how there is a sentiment of policing morality, and this often extends to policing access to space. Monopolization of space can frequently create culturally-homogeneous spatial units, and transgression of these units only emphasizes whatever difference exists across these units. As people in cities either flee to the suburbs, or stay in the city to block themselves in from the imagined “unwashed masses” outside, it creates tangible zones of socio-cultural difference in space. In this way, it minimizes access to the Other and aggravates paranoia. Fear is self-perpetuating. Pink Flamingos, Hairspray and A Dirty Shame all offer very real demarcations of culture and difference within space due to fear of the Other. They each show how transgressing established boundaries serves to emphasize the differences that exist. In Pink Flamingos, Divine and her family blatantly clash with their rural surroundings after they are forced to leave Baltimore proper. They refuse to adopt a more “rural aesthetic” for their physical appearance or for their residence. They also continue to perpetrate their morally questionable, if not illegal behavior embodied by the scene depicting Divine’s birthday party. In this study, I provided a thorough description

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of the racial divide in Hairspray. In that film, Waters divided Baltimore into essentially two separate cities, the white city, and the black city. Black residents would love to freely intermingle with the white population, but the existing racist socio-spatial exclusionary practices will not allow it. A Dirty Shame depicts the sentiment that people exhibiting any sexual difference should be restricted to the inner city where the moral underclass traditionally becomes sequestered. If cultural hegemonies of wealth, race, and class indeed limit such people to these pre-determined spaces, those with power can more easily avoid contact with them by simply never entering these spaces. The “neuters” in A Dirty Shame want people displaying whatever negative characteristics frequently associated with urban life to remain in the inner-city, and away from the more outlying areas where the moral and cultural majority attempt to isolate themselves. Self-segregation leads to lack of access to space. This is frequently due to difference of wealth or class across space, as well as sexuality and socially-questionable but still legal activities and behavior. Those that hold the power in society place attributes of that group onto the space in which they occupy, thereby creating a sense of a specific space in the city as being “poor”/“affluent”, “white”/“black”, or “gay”/“straight.” Any of these are seen in the work of Waters. Territoriality in Waters’ Work

Territoriality in Pink Flamingos As mentioned earlier, the Johnsons were completely free to go about their unique lives when they were located in Baltimore proper. They were never depicted to be in any sort of legal or civic trouble until they were removed from that cover, and into the exposure of the countryside. Like Divine, Waters depicted their mobile home to be obviously out of place located in the rural outskirts of Balriore. It is a huge unkempt pink eyesore amongst the songbirds and trees. Such conspicuousness cannot lead to the anonymity they were searching. In fact, it is at this home that Divine murders the Marbles and thus relocates, along with her family, to another city to avoid detection by the police. After learning about Divine’s title of “filthiest person alive”, the Marbles quickly discover where she is hiding out. They then decide to retaliate by sending her human feces in the mail. The postal service has no problem locating Divine’s residence, even though the package is quite simply marked “Divine/A Trailer/Phoenix, MD”. This is a

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testament to the utter failure of Divine to successfully hide in the countryside, and the gaudy mobile home is the manifestation of it. It does, however, show how the Johnsons carve out a territory of their own, and go to any length to maintain it to their liking. Divine’s birthday party is another notorious scene in the film. It takes place at Divine’s home, and brings together her friends from Baltimore; they are all manner of, as Waters describes them in the screenplay, “hippies, hillbillies, and assorted lunatics. They are seen stuffing their mouths with refreshments, guzzling liquor, and smoking grass.” The guests bring birthday gifts for Divine; they include medication for pubic lice, a pig’s head, a huge meat cleaver, and amyl nitrate poppers. The party re-enforces the theme of building and defending a territory. Society looks to law enforcement and government to thwart illegal anti-social or counter-social behavior. In that way they are an embodiment and extension of society’s normative tendencies. They are the antithesis of the Johnsons and Marbles, who, to the author of this study, represent abject bodies living in a space that they claimed as their own. When an unfavorable person or group makes himself or herself known, law enforcement is quickly sought out to remedy the situation. It is depicted in Pink Flamingos, as the group of partygoers attracts the attention of local police, who swoop in to squelch the scene and restore order to the place. That is, to reclaim the territory in the name of law, decency, and order. Territoriality in Hairspray The climax of the film takes place at Tilted Acres, the white-only amusement park owned by the Von Tussle family. The Von Tussles, Franklin and Velma, are the parents of Amber Von Tussle, arch-rival of Tracy Turnblad on The Corny Collins Show; the program is producing a live episode from the park. It is on this particular broadcast where the winner of the “Miss Auto Show” contest will be announced. Tilted Acres is a space within Baltimore that has been claimed by some members of the white community solely for the white community. It, along with the Corny Collins Show are two microcosms of the entire city; the struggle to keep those spaces free from black Baltimoreans is the same struggle for control of the entire city. The racist white faction fervently believes that the African-American portion of the population is attempting to usurp the city from them. In this scene, we see several black protesters, including Motormouth, Seaweed, and Nadine picketing and otherwise voicing their opposition to the park’s racist

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admittance policy white counter-protesters form a boundary at the entrance of the park. When understood boundaries are not sufficient to keep the oppressed out, these counter- protestors form that same boundary with their bodies. There is a second group of white counter-protesters inside the park at the Corny Collins taping. They are shouting down Tracy as she attempts to perform a dance popular with black youth. This dance angers one of the counter-protesters, leading her to throw a lit cherry bomb onto the stage. When one’s territory is breached, the encroached often feel the right to use force in order to thwart the encroachment, and this exchange illustrates such force. Eventually the black crowd at the park entrance breaches the front line and sweeps into the white crowd, starting a full-fledged race riot. The ill will only escalated into violence once the boundary between the establishment and the Other was transgressed. Also, notice how this only occurs in one direction; when the white Mrs. Pingleton crossed the boundary into the ghetto, no one started a fight with her. It was only when the oppressed encroach into space occupied by the oppressor that such aggression manifests. Toward the end of the riot, police intervene in an attempt to control the situation. Although both sides were guilty of participating in the melee, Waters only shows us African-Americans, and those sympathizing with them, to be detained by the authorities. Most notably, police take Tracy away and put her into a women’s detention center. The segregationists were never shown to be punished for their violent activities. Again, we see the trepidation that comes with the disintegration of one’s ideas about what should and should not be. The Von Tussle family owns the park, and as such has the right to keep out whomever they wish. The same cannot be said for the city in general; it is there for whomever wished to be there. The segregationists use the park as a microcosm of the city, asserting their wish to control access to it. They do this because, predictably, they dislike the notion of having to intermingle with the Other. They attempt to make the city what they dream it to be: a white haven. A news crew interviews the Von Tussles as the riot begins to unfold. They exclaim: Tilted Acres will NEVER be integrated…Segregation today! Segregation tomorrow! Segregation forever!

In the midst of the abject Other, the Von Tussles, along with their sympathizers, strive to carve out a part of Baltimore that is “clean and safe”. Such people feel the need

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to do this in order to maintain their way of life. Because they illogically fear so many people and the places they occupy, they want a place in their city where they can feel safe. We can see this personified in Hairspray during the riot at Tilted Acres. Waters describes one scene: White families scream in panic at the sight of blacks hopping on Tilt-A-Whirl. One of them hops on kiddie ride and white families snatch their kids away. Police run into the park, swinging billy clubs.

At the very least, the fearful see the need to watch out for the dangers that lurk out in the dark corners of the non-white city. Large urban areas are places in which all different groups co-exist, and therefore, are seen by many as highly mysterious or undesirable. The amusement park is one territory in Waters’ Baltimore that white citizens claim and defend as their own. Territoriality in A Dirty Shame A Dirty Shame is an example of how people establish spatial territories in hopes of keeping unwanted elements out of said space. I see several of Percy-Smith’s (2000) dimensions of exclusion in the film; the undesirables fall into different classes and identities of social, individual, and political status. Most usually, the Others are seen as an attack to family decency and normalcy. Normalcy can only be dictated by the cultural and social hegemonies in place in any given space. To the addicts, the “neuters” could very well be considered abnormal. These are fairly typical lines across which territories construct. The audience readily sees an appeal to law enforcement by the “neuter” contingency in an effort to quell the newcomers. This fits squarely into Herbert’s (2008) ideas of criminalization of space for purposes of constructing and defending territories. In the film, however, it turns out that the policeman is secretly a sex addict himself. Eventually, he reveals himself to be an age regressionist; he dresses up like a baby, wanting to be bottle-fed and burped. This bit of comic irony speaks to the way that the law is no more effective than the individual people who fill the positions of the office. The law, or at least, those who enforce the law, is not omnipotent or faultless; it is as fallible and human as any other civic entity. If any sort of decency laws were being broken on Harford Road in the film, the police officer character who enjoys dressing up like an infant would have been as

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guilty as anyone else; civic entities like law enforcement are only as perfect as the humans who fill the roles. The neuters wish to express their power and dominance over Harford Road; they seek not merely to peacefully co-exist with the addicts, but to completely eliminate them from the area. Sibley (1995) might argue that such turf wars exist in real life. Much in the same way certain American politicians spoke of constructing a wall along the entire Mexican-American border, the neuters wished for the same level of complete exclusion. Also, several of Altman’s (1975) components of territory are demonstrated in A Dirty Shame. The first is geographic reference. Repeatedly in the film, one can hear references to “Harford Road” as the contested space. It is a very discrete spatial entity, and there is no confusion about where the addicts are not welcome. Next is the motive for territorial behavior. The need to rid themselves of salacious people and lifestyles is repeatedly referenced. Third is assumption of place ownership. Given that many of the neuters are older, the audience can safely infer that they have been living there on Harford Road for many years. Seniority often gives credence to feelings of entitlement over place. As far as the neuters know, they were there first; therefore they feel the right to keep the place as they wish it to remain. They see the Three Bears moving in, and assume all unsavory people are new to the neighborhood. By the end of the film, the audience learns this is not the case. Fourth is the use of territorialized space for group use. The neuters freely use the Pinewood Park & Pay to hold their meetings. Simultaneously, they loudly voice their objections to any Others’ patronage of the store. I have already referenced several bits of dialogue that will re-enforce this. A Summary of Territoriality in Waters’ works

When abject people or deeds threaten pre-established “off limits” spaces, there is retaliation by those who feel encroached upon. People wish to maintain the partition between themselves and the Other; such desires and retaliations exist throughout the work of John Waters. People produce a variety of ways in which to establish and articulate power relations in the real world (Blomley, 1994; Bordieu, 1989), including the establishment and defense of special territories. Social difference tends to be a primary factor in deciding how these power relations are delineated (Herbert, 2008). Percy-Smith (2000)

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generalized several “dimensions” typically used to justify social exclusion in space, including economic, social, political, neighborhood, individual, spatial, and group qualities. Differences in these types of identities frequently result in formations of abject “Others” and creation of abject spaces as a result. Hairspray is a classic example of racial othering within a city. In the film, black citizens are not allowed access to all the same spaces whites are permitted to occupy. We see this quite clearly in Hairspray, in the scene where Mrs. Pingleton “rescues” her daughter from the black neighborhood. She assumes the lives of her and her daughter are in danger in that place. Similar discomfort exists when one’s comfort zone is infiltrated by the Other. The “neuter” residents of Harford Road in A Dirty Shame develop the mentality that the newly-arrived sex addicts do not belong in their space. Residents repeatedly state that the neighborhood is reserved for decency; only those that are deemed good, moral, law- abiding citizens belong there, and the addicts represent an urban identity that the “neuters” wish would remain back in the inner city, and away from Harford Road. People often tend to appeal to law enforcement in order to restore any breach in a socially-constructed territory’s border (Herbert, 2008). This suggests that such breeches are not only received as uncomfortable, but illegal, immoral, or simply wrong. In Pink Flamingos, the Johnson family succumbs to the legal system in place within Baltimore, and is eventually forced away from Maryland altogether. They epitomize legal and sexual difference within urban society. Waters emphasizes this fact when he positions the family outside of the city, and against a more pastoral rural landscape; there, they are made much more visible, thereby easier to apprehend. There exists in places throughout the United States and the world various laws that prohibit the presences of specific behavior, and by extension, the presence of the people who display these behaviors. The laws are instituted to keep the status quo within a given territory. A Dirty Shame features a territorial struggle over one specific neighborhood in Baltimore. Long-standing residents disapprove of the newcomers into their territory, and appeal to law enforcement, the church, and medical professionals to deduce and eliminate the basis for the sex addicts’ behavior. They feel a right to the place, and a right to keep the place as they see fit. They fear the outside influence making itself known in “their” space, and take steps to thwart it. When law enforcement proves to be ineffective, even unwilling

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to take action, the residents set out to form their own local legal system, in the form of the community watch association. They have regular meetings to devise a plan of action against the sex addicts. All of these actions are done in order to maintain the way a person’s or a homogeneous group’s claimed territory they way they imagine it should be.

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CHAPTER 5 – CONCLUDING REMARKS

Summary

John Waters has made a career of depicting shocking and unusual stories and characters through his films. He thoroughly embraces his hometown of Baltimore, Maryland, and has used it to set each of his films. I chose to analyze his work to add to the body of literature on imagined productions of place within filmic geography. Cultural and social geographers embrace the analysis of film among many other mass media texts in order to illustrate various elements of the human condition in space (Adams, 1992; Aitken, 1991; Dixon, 2007; Forman, 2000; Kwon, 2004; Saldanha, 2007). Specifically, this project focuses on urbanized spaces as depicted by John Waters, focusing on his commentary on fear and paranoia of abject urban space. One frequent reaction to processes of Othering is to place one’s own position or identity in a status of superiority over those we differ (Thompson, 1998). Consequently then, those deemed inferior commonly face prejudice from those in power. John Waters’ body of work clearly illustrates this sort of prejudice, fear, and cultural hegemony as it often exists concerning urban centers. The place-based identities on which this study focuses makes it a valid piece of geographic inquiry. These tendencies are a simple way to establish conflict between people or groups of people; conflict leads to drama, and drama leads to interest and potential box office success. I have combined theories of abjection, socio-spatial exclusion, territoriality, and processes of Othering to create a framework to understand how Waters produces the city. With this study, I conclude that Waters paints such fears of the city as largely absurd. This absurdity is the primary basis of the humor of many of his films. While there exists a tradition of anti-urban sentiment in the mass media (Bruno, 1994; Ford, 1994; Holtan, 1971; Macek, 2000; McLaughlin, 1975; Monkkonen, 2001), Waters offers a clear rebuttal to it, suggesting that frightened hegemonic groups fear what they do not understand or do not frequently encounter. They minimize encountering the Other by constructing discreet socio-cultural territories in space that effectively bar the underclass from freely associating with those in power. Urban centers are traditionally places where social and cultural heterogeneity exists at higher rates than other spaces, such as rural communities, gated communities, or suburbs. I have selected three of Waters’ films due

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to what I believe they have to contribute to such spaces. Pink Flamingos is a portrait of an urban family relocated into the countryside. Their criminal lifestyle is emphasized all the more when juxtaposed against a tranquil rural backdrop. The film is filled with the types of characters that strike terror into the minds of people who are leery of venturing into the city. Divine, her family, and their rivals, the Marbles all display social, cultural, and legal deviance throughout their lives. Their habits of murder, larceny, drug abuse, and sexual oddity stand as extreme caricatures of abject individuals, and the places they occupy. These people are portrayed to be comfortable and anonymous within city limits, only to have their lives inverted when they find themselves in rural settings. Waters pokes fun at those afraid of cities, those that may assume if such “odd” people and behaviors can exist virtually unknown in Baltimore, or any other city, then that suggests certain social or cultural attributes about these places themselves. In that same way, they sometimes place opposing binary associations on rural spaces such as the surrounding countryside. Hairspray deals with issues of race during the era of integration in early-1960s Baltimore. In this film, we see the paranoia and horror that can exist when people are forced into contact with the Other. Although Hairspray is a family-friendly musical/comedy, there are some very frank and striking commentaries on how some people imagine large urban areas in reality. Waters uses these imaginings to great comedic effect in showing how ludicrous such trepidation can be. In the film, most white citizens fear African-Americans and the parts of Baltimore they inhabit, or, more precisely, are allowed to inhabit. There are several instances within Hairspray that represent private space as segregated, and illustrate how public space is also partitioned between, in this film, those of different races. The local media outlets, residential neighborhoods, and commercial spaces are all divided in this way. Overall, Hairspray is a window into the minds of those that harbor negative attitudes, delusions of ownership and power over space, and judgments about urban areas. We see Waters use these ideas to completely discredit those that retain such sentiment. A Dirty Shame offers a glimpse into how people can react when the urban Other violates their established territory. The audience can see how defensive people can become when socio-cultural difference occupies the same geographic space. Admittedly,

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A Dirty Shame is full of low-brow sight gags and toilet humor, but underneath it all are real statements on the human condition: how fears of Others are processed, and how space is contested every day in the real world. When a group of sex addicts begins to relocate into a quiet Baltimore neighborhood, a group of locals reacts with swift retaliation. The sex addicts’ exploits are made all the more egregious by their placement in public space. Perhaps if they kept their acts behind closed doors, then no one would have noticed, and the turf war might have been avoided. When faced with extreme human difference, a common reaction is to stake a claim for some space, and defend the territory as owned by those who claim it. In this case, when one dislikes, fears, or overtly hates what urbanized areas stand for in their minds, people will withdraw from that space, establish a new one for themselves, and bitterly defend it from becoming whatever it is they hate. In the film, Waters continually depicts the sex addicts as an amiable, well- meaning, and benign, if not an entirely demure segment of society. His message is that just because another individual’s behavior differs greatly from one’s own, that does not mean they are bad people. Sharing a space with other well-meaning people is always a good thing, even if, as in this film, they choose to wear diapers for fun. Final Comments

With this project, I am not intending to paint all suburbanites and rural residents as fear-mongering racists or ignorant elitists. I am instead suggesting that one specific filmmaker, John Waters, utilizes the city of Baltimore, Maryland, to satirize those that may imagine urban spaces in such negative ways. In his films, the transgression of abject spaces creates reactions amongst those who experience the transgressions: exclusionary policies and territorial behavior. If we choose, we can read his productions of Baltimore as a larger reading of any highly urbanized space. Waters’ portrayal of Baltimore attests to his personal love of the profane, the vile, and the subversive. These portrayals have the potential of depicting the city in a way that many people might find repulsive; in this case however, Waters uses his depictions of Baltimore to highlight the spectacularly lurid, salacious, or dissident elements of society as something to be cherished and celebrated, not feared and squelched. Some people may find any sort of space potentially undesirable for any number of reasons, while others may enjoy those exact same qualities in a place. The spectrum of human emotion, preference, experience, and desire is incredibly broad.

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Films Cited

12 Monkeys (Terry Gilliam, 1995, United States) Avalon (Barry Levinson, 1990, United States) The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (Stephan Elliott, 1994, Australia) After Hours (Martin Scorsese, 1985, United States) Annie Hall (Woody Allen, 1977, United States) Bringing Out the Dead (Martin Scorsese, 1999, United States) Children of the Corn (Fritz Kiersch, 1984, United States) City Slickers (Ron Underwood, 1991, United States) Cloverfield (Matt Reeves, 2008, United States) Deliverance (John Boorman, 1972, United States) Did You Hear About the Morgans? (Marc Lawrence, 2009, United States) Diner (Barry Levinson, 1982, United States) A Dirty Shame (John Waters, 2004, United States) Easy Rider (Dennis Hopper, 1969, United States) The Fall (Tarsem Singh, 2006, India) Flag Wars (Linda Goode Bryant, 2003, United States) Funny Farm (George Roy Hill, 1988, United States) Gone With the Wind (Victor Fleming, 1939, United States) Gypsy ’83 (Todd Stevens, 2001, United States) Haute Tension (Alexandre Aja, 2003, France) La gloire de mon père (Yves Robert, 1990, France) Lawrence of Arabia (David Lean, 1962, United Kingdom) Liberty Heights (Barry Levinson, 1999, United States) Hairspray (John Waters, 1988, United States) Marnie (Alfred Hitchcock, 1964, United States) Otesánek (Jan Švankmajer, 2000, Czech Republic) Pink Flamingos (John Waters, 1972, United States) Quinceañera (Wash Westmoreland, 2006, United States) The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, 1980, United Kingdom) Signs (M. Night Shyamalan, 2002, United States) Silence of the Lambs (Jonathan Demme, 1991, United States) Taxi Driver (Martin Scorsese, 1976, United States) Tin Men (Barry Levinson, 1987, United States) Up in the Air (Jason Reitman, 2009, United States) Videodrome (David Cronenberg, 1983, Canada)

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John Waters’ Filmography

Hag in a Black Leather Jacket (1964) Roman Candles (1966) Eat Your Makeup (1968) Mondo Trasho (1969) The Diane Linkletter Story (1969) Multiple Maniacs (1970) Pink Flamingos (1972) Female Trouble (1974) Desperate Living (1977) Polyester (1981) Hairspray (1988) Cry-Baby (1990) Serial Mom (1994) Pecker (1998) Cecil B. Demented (2000) A Dirty Shame (2004) Fruitcake (forthcoming)

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