When I saw this movie back in the l970s, I was knocked out of my BVD's with Joe the Magnificent. I had never seen a creature like him before: gorgeous, tough, sweet, funny and sex personified. I've read where this movie was NOT improvised, that Paul Morrisey adhered to a professional script and was a strict, but creative director. Then, I've heard it was just the opposite. I really don't think Joe was faking his drug induced stupor, expressions, mumblings. I loved Holly Woodlawn but nearly upchucked when her hideous, pregnant sister entered the picture. Gross is too mild a word. That drooling wet mouth and buck teeth, her bloated figure, yuck! I wish that sad little lost child, Andrea Feldman, had a bigger part. Thankfully, she was showcased in Andy Warhol's HEAT, another favorite. Once I was in the Village during that time and my boyfriend told me Joe Dellasandro was walking just ahead. I fled--not wanting to see a real embodiment of a movie icon. The same thing happened when Liz Taylor left the theater each night during her starring role in "The Little Foxes" during the 80s. Each night I would study the gigantic crowds, waiting to glimpse her. But when I'd see the stage door open and she began to make her exit, I fled. Reality's a nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there. Gotta run and watch Joe, my Joe, my wonderful Joe in "Trash." A real underground classic.