“Pecker.” Written and directed by John Waters. Running time: 87 minutes. Rated R (for language, graphic nudity and drug use). Nightly at 9:30, Oct. 26-29, Railroad Square Cinema, Waterville.

The very title of John Waters’ latest comedy offers the critic a wealth of unusual possibilities, somewhere in which is a line that must not be crossed. Still, there is that provocative title, that nagging word, and the sound of that word, that tends to cause an immediate, uncomfortable stir whenever spoken, however sheepishly, in mixed company.

Indeed, to the uninitiated, the uninformed, saying: “I saw John Waters’ `Pecker’ last night and I couldn’t stop laughing” appears to be in extremely bad taste, a line not merely crossed, but leaped over while ringing bells, waving flags and blowing whistles.

C’est la vie. “Pecker” is a campy, comic delight.

In the film, Edward Furlong is Pecker, a young photographer who allegedly earned his peculiar nickname because, as a child, he pecked at his food. (Sure. And the popular strip club Hooters got its name because the place is frequented by owls.)

Pecker takes photos of everything, and since this is a John Waters film, everything means the bizarre: two rats having sex in a trash can, the private parts of butch lesbian strippers, a talking statue of the Virgin Mary, and even his younger, sugar-addicted sister, Little Crissy (Laren Huilsey), who is so strung out on candy she easily could be the poster child for Ritalin.

As Pecker sees it, art is everywhere, and he gleefully snaps photos of his girlfriend, Shelley (Christina Ricci), his kleptomaniacal best friend, Matt (Brendan Sexton III), and deep inside The Fudge Place, the local gay bar where his sister Tina (Martha Plimpton) works as a strict, take-no-prisoners emcee.

Eventually, of course, Pecker’s life changes as only Waters could change it for him: A New York art dealer (Lili Taylor) happens upon Pecker’s photos, loves his work and immediately signs him to a show at her Manhattan gallery. It’s an official stamp of approval that brands Pecker as a major new artist — but at what cost? As all of the New York art world begins clamoring for Pecker, Waters introduces his film’s true purpose: To skewer modern art and its patrons while also highlighting how fame and fortune can corrupt.

Aesthietic pretension has long been an easy target, but in Waters’ capable hands makes for a film that is often very funny. Indeed, “Pecker” finds its director exactly where he belongs — deep inside the toilet bowl of life he continues to plunge from Baltimore. His latest may not be as outrageous as “Pink Flamingos” or “Polyester,” but it does take risks that push it far and away from the mainstream arena he courted somewhat unsuccessfully in “Serial Mom.”

For Waters, “Pecker” is divine. Grade: A-

Video of the Week

“Hope Floats.” Directed by Forest Whitaker. Written by Steven Rogers. Running time: 114 minutes. Rated PG-13 (for thematic elements).

“Hope Floats” begins promisingly enough. On a national television talk show reminiscent of “Ricki Lake,” Birdee Pruitt (Sandra Bullock) stands offstage awaiting what she believes will be a cosmetic makeover. She gets a makeover, all right, but it has nothing to do with cosmetics. Indeed, on that stage is her best friend, played icily by Rosanna Arquette, who bluntly informs Birdee that she’s having a torrid affair with Birdee’s husband.

Stunned and hurt, Birdee, a former Corn Queen, takes flight, dumping her husband, packing up her daughter and running home to Smithville, Texas, where she hopes to rebuild her life with her taxidermist mother, Ramona (Gena Rowlands).

All of this sounds well and good, but director Whitaker, an actor himself, weighs down his film with too many “moments,” many of which are so dull and long-winded, the film often feels as if it’s stuck in a great big Texas rut. In an effort to lift the film to higher ground, Whitaker hauls in Harry Connick Jr. as Birdee’s love interest, but their romance, while sweet, is absolutely contrived, and never generates the necessary heat to truly ignite our interest.

Still, “Hope Floats” isn’t a total wash. As Birdee comes to terms with her Corn Queen past, the film does find the measure of honesty it needed all along to keep it afloat.

Too bad the script wasn’t tossed that same life preserver right from the start. Grade: C+

Christopher Smith is the Bangor Daily News film critic. His reviews appear each Monday in the NEWS. Each Thursday on WLBZ’s “NewsCenter 5:30 Today,” he reviews what’s new and worth renting in video stores.