Francine Fishpaw (Harris Glen Milstead as Divine) would have you believe she is a quintessential housewife to an upstanding, Chrisitan family in the suburbs of Baltimore.  The illusion fades, however, when her husband, Elmer (David Samson), goes against the wishes of the community and continues to screen pornographic films at his cinema, her daughter Lu-Lu (Mary Garlington) is pregnant with local degenerate Bo-Bo Belsinger’s (Stiv Bators) child, and her son Dexter (Ken King) is the leading suspect in a string of crimes being committed by a serial foot fetishist who is breaking women’s feet.  With her life in shambles, Francine meets the handsome Todd Tomorrow (Tab Hunter) at the scene of a gruesome car wreck who promises the poor woman a path to the life she has strived to achieve, but, as with most things in life, his proposal is too good to be true. 

The ever-eccentric writer/director, John Waters, conceived of Polyester as a parody of the melodramas that graced the silver screen during the 1950s and ‘60s.  While it was still accomplished on a shoestring budget and featured many familiar faces of the Dreamland troupe, Polyester is an incredibly accessible film to a wide audience even today as much of the comedy still rings true.  While that may not speak kindly about the society we live in since it means not much has changed in the four decades since its release, Waters proved to have his finger on the pulse of the issues that matter as he breaks down the entire concept of the idyllic suburbia and the performative protection of the virtues those residents hold so dear. 

Originally released in 1981 by New Line Cinema, affording Waters certain freedoms that a studio budget can provide for the first time, meager as it may have been, The Criterion Collection later restored the film for home video in 2019, and with it saw the return of “Odorama” technology; a scratch and sniff card that would allow audiences to experience some of the various smells that play a part in the film.  The whole schtick behind Polyester is that Francine is blessed… cursed… gifted with an incredible sense of smell.  Dr. Arnold Quackenshaw (Rick Breitenfeld) opens the film during its initial theatrical release and its restoration run to introduce the new technology and showcase its wonders with the gentle aroma of fresh-cut roses.  Much like Francine’s own life, our introduction to Odorama may be pleasant and neat, but there is the promise of trash which Waters has claimed as his trademarked style just underneath.   

At the head of the film, Milstead delivers an absolutely charming performance as the housewife with all of his heart and passion for performance there on the screen.  The physicality of the role is one of the first things we notice, not just because we first see Francine primping herself at the vanity wearing just her bra and girdle, but because Waters opts at every opportunity to give us a close up as Milstead bats his eyes, engages his nose, and contorts his face in a displeased reaction to what Francine is smelling.  Some of this magnetism must be attributed to the writing as Francine is a wonderfully written comic character, but comedy is just as much made on the page as it is in front of the camera and Milstead has perfect timing and total commitment to the role.  There is a great amount of trust and enjoyment displayed on screen here and Milstead is not afraid to get down and dirty and go over the top to sell the joke.  There is such a light behind his eyes, and while Milstead already had quite a few titles to his name, Polyester was a big step forward to more main-stream stardom for the performer whose life would be tragically cut short a few years later at the age of 42 from heart failure; three weeks after the premiere of Hairspray (1988) and the night before taping an appearance on the Fox sitcom Married with Children (1987-1997). 

This commitment to the film is not limited to just Milstead, rather the entire cast leans into the parody and their enjoyment is present on-screen through all the absurdity.  It really does come down to the trust they have in Waters as their director and the deep bonds they shared off-camera with each other that allows this troupe to elevate this schlocky spoof concept into something truly great.  Edith Massey appears in her penultimate role – and final role in a Waters’ film – as Cuddles Kovinsky, Francine’s best friend and closest confidant.  The unrefined performance fits well into the overall step-above-guerilla-filmmaking style that Polyester puts on, but there are still moments of comic brilliance achieved by the actress.  The chemistry shared between her and Milstead as she encourages Francine to step out of the self-imposed good housewife image she is putting on and to stand up to her husband’s infidelity is one of the strongest relationships displayed in the film.  It should be mentioned here that another Waters mainstay, Mink Stole, appears as Elmer’s mistress Sandra Sullivan, a raunchy, sex-crazed, drug enthusiast that taunts Francine and feeds off of her prudish nature. It is a truly sleazy role, magnified by the costume design, but like any good villain Stole is chewing up the scenery with the best of them. 

Polyester‘s unique coming together of styles is two-fold; first is its imitation of the studio melodramas which add that air of class to the set design, and the second is the casting of Hollywood star Tab Hunter who occupies much of the third act of the film.  Now, Hunter has a decades-spanning career of highs and lows, but it is undeniable that he had the looks to make it big if nothing else, and while sometimes his performance can be a little rough around the edges, there is the undeniable charm and charisma that he brings to the screen.  There is a certain attitude and bravado that Hunter imbues into his character, Todd Tomorrow, the smoldering outsider who catches the eye of Francine and once the initial hesitations melt away for the Hollywood hunk, Hunter becomes fully committed to the wild turns of the story he fits right in with the rest of the Dreamland cast. 

Polyester is a really special film made by a core group of performers who, it is very clear, are having so much fun and enjoying making these films as part of their own acts of counterculture while embracing themselves and each other.  It has an authenticity about it, most likely because its creative team are mostly all from in and around the Baltimore area in which it is set.  They are able to take their life experiences and wield them in their takedown of suburban hypocrisy.  The team is unafraid and unabashed in their attack on the white picket fence lifestyle and that unity of purpose is evident in every scene.  In that sense, it is a beacon of truth.  Underneath the wigs and the makeup and it is a true expression of victory against the society which pushed its creators to the fringes because they did not quite fit the definition of expectations and with a foot in both camps of indie and studio filmmaking, Waters is declaring loudly for all to hear that anything is possible when you stand up in pursuit of your own happiness. With the knowledge of what happens next regarding Milstead, Polyester does take on a slightly melancholic feel – like it is the last summer a neighborhood crew is together before growing too old for make-believe games – even though Waters is only at the midpoint of his career. Do not let that deter you, however, from the raunchy fun that still lives on as the Dreamlanders seek to pry pearls from clutched fingers nationwide.