Art Doc of the Week | I Am Divine

“Divine was dangerous — part outlaw, part serial killer.” — John Waters

Divine wasn’t a gay icon; she was a queer one. That distinction is perhaps more crucial now than it was in the mid-1960s through ‘70s when Divine and director John Waters (one of cinema’s great filmmaker & muse duos) were crafting their subversive, groundbreaking movies: Mondo Trasho, Multiple Maniacs, Pink Flamingos, Female Trouble, Desperate Living, and Polyester. Divine’s bawdiness, crudeness, contempt for the status quo, and unapologetic libido are at firm odds with the focus-group honed, aspirational “gay” identity that is family-friendly, mainstream affirming, and market-friendly.

It’s the content and context of that early work that girds the delicate hat-trick of Hairspray (1988), the duo’s last project together. That film examined racism, class, and cultural miscegenation with both sweetness and real bite, all through the prism of segregated teen dance shows of the 1960s. It glided smoothly along the dividing line between mainstream appeal and underground cool where the early films would provide refuge for outcasts of all stripes, and in some ways foreshadow what American pop culture has become as the mainstream consumed much of its queer margins.

The iconic “cha-cha heels” scene from Female Trouble.

Director Jeffrey Schwarz’s documentary I Am Divine traces the taut conservative outlines of mid-century America with humor that never loses sight of how claustrophobic it was for queer people – gays and lesbians, but also anyone left-of-center in aesthetic, politic, or simply their being. Drag, like homosexuality, was a crime. That’s the backdrop against which fat, painfully shy, fledgling queer Harris Glenn Milstead came of age in Baltimore, bullied by classmates back when it was an acceptable practice. It didn’t help that he was drawn to drag as a boy.

All of that was the seed of Divine – rage at an excruciating status quo; an innate flair for the disturbingly and drolly funny dramatic. (Divine’s drag always had a thick undercurrent of menace to it. It wasn’t something to be beamed into homes to make a case for tolerance or acceptance.) To Schwarz’s credit, the film never drifts into sap or sentimentality, never relies on easy emotion, whether outlining these early years or detailing later battles with weight, depression, and feeling boxed in by the Divine persona. And as the film rolls out figures like Waters, Mink Stole, and Divine’s proud mama, all offering personal stories and sharp cultural analysis alike, with snippets of Divine’s film work (including early, rarely seen Waters shorts as well as work for other directors and in other mediums), I Am Divine unfolds into a raucous valentine that pulls a lump to your throat by the end.

Previously on Art Doc of the Week:

Top Photo: Getty Images
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