In the land of no taste, the man with bad taste is king. John Waters has been lobbing turd grenades at American culture since Pink Flamingos in 1972. These days, with unimaginative grossness prevailing in popular art, Waters seems a throwback, an Edwardian dandy forced to baby-sit the South Park kids. How to offend, he must wonder, without being an old fart?
Here's one way: make a comedy about a radical group that kidnaps a rich young woman and brainwashes her into joining their cause. And, in a piquant move, cast the real Patty Hearst in a small role. But since...
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