Only John Waters could stage a Charles Manson-style slaughter then think: "This could really do with a giant-lobster rape scene to spruce it up."

For all its ostensible unpleasantness, Multiple Maniacs is cheapo, indie, queer American cinema at its most adversarial and thrillingly vicious.

Is it some kind of lost masterpiece? No. It's merely an interesting milestone on the path to Mr. Waters's better-known works ...

... quite possibly the trashiest and most tasteless film to get the Criterion treatment. And I say that with love and appreciation.