In his acknowledgments, Waters aptly describes how, in writing Liarmouth, he risked veering into “fictitious anarchy.” That’s as good a description as any for this campy, raunchy, surreal story, rife with ribald pleasures. Their cat-and-mouse caper brings them into contact with unforgettable characters like Marsha’s mother Adora, who runs a dog facelift clinic Richard, Darryl’s talking penis and Poppy, Marsha’s trampoline-addicted daughter, who’s also the leader of a cult for bouncing enthusiasts. Marsha has promised Darryl sex for his services after one year of employment, but when she skips out without paying up, Darryl is out for revenge. with Liarmouth, a 'perfectly perverted feel-bad romance” about Marsha “Liarmouth” Sprinkle, a con woman caught up in a bad romance with Darryl, the degenerate loser with whom she steals suitcases from airport luggage carousels. The filmmaker, writer, and artist takes his first bow. His debut in the format arrives today, and it’s a characteristically Waters-ian phantasmagoria of good, unclean fun. The legendary Pope of Trash has battled censorship, dropped acid, and hitchhiked across America, but until recently, one thing eluded him: writing a novel. At 76 years old, there’s not much John Waters hasn’t tried.
