A young shutterbug with a second-hand camera shoots his mixed-nuts family, friends, and neighbors in Baltimore, gets discovered by a Manhattan gallery dealer, gets a taste of the Big Apple (where he is toasted as "a teenage Weegee" and "a humane Diane Arbus"), gets a king-size tummy ache from it. John Waters's soft-edged comedy, with its topsy-turvy boosterism for his hometown (the gay-male topless bar, the lesbian bottomless strip club, the laundromat, the thrift shop, the fast-food joint, the roadside pit-beef stand: "Baltimore loves a pit-beef sandwich"), is incessantly good-natured but never very sharp-witted or smart-paced. Too good-natured, even, to take a passable swipe at the New York art scene. The funniest thing in the movie is the obscure Paul Evans goldie-oldie ("Ha-Ha-Ha-Happy-Go-Lucky Me") at the beginning and end of it. Waters, after all, has always been a bit of a curator, a tour guide, an arbiter of taste. He has sometimes been more aggressive about it. Edward Furlong, Christina Ricci, Lili Taylor, Martha Plimpton, Mary Kay Place, Brendan Sexton III. (1998) — Duncan Shepherd
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