'Pink Flamingos'

After watching this "cult" classic I started asking people what the value of this film was.

Was it kitsch? It's so bad, it's good? It's so over the top?

I can't get a good answer. No one can tell me why this film is "important" because it sure as hell ain't good. And I'm going to go ahead and deem it not only a bad film, but an unworthy film of viewing. It has no value. It doesn't add nor does it subtract and when art does neither than it might as well spend eternity in purgatory.

I realize how I'm supposed to feel and when feelings and emotions are as contrived as that, then value lessens. I supposed to be offended or to have my provincial, puritanical mores and lifestyle rocked and questioned by this hedonistic, sick and "filthy" comment on America's underbelly of hippies, transvestites, sex fiends and rednecks.

But it's lazy. The same way an antiestablishmentarian chokes at the idea of being force fed a certain way of life, so is the other side. People -- like me -- that don't eat dog shit or fuck girls with chickens tune out when they feel they're being preached to. And, yes, this film is preaching whether the director or actors think they are or not.

With all this said, the single worst acting job in the history of film is by the pregnant girl in the pit. Rewatch her scenes and you'll be begging for more chicken sex.