The Big Johnson

SLAMDANCE FILM FESTIVAL 2025 REVIEW: Time to choke on a fashion accessory again with the stunning rock doc The Big Johnson, filmed with a vengeance by Lola Rocknrolla. The documentary follows the legendary Lower East Side performance master Dean Johnson and his bands Dean & The Weenies and The Velvet Mafia.

Coming to New York from a small town in Maine (been there), the very tall Johnson discovered the pier scene, where men would have sex with each other out in the sun. He discovered his love of drag and was there at the very first Wigstock in New York. He soon shaved his head and started wearing his own uniform of earrings, sunglasses, a little black dress, and heels.

It follows Dean & The Weenies’ MTV appearance and showcases at the Pyramid Club and elsewhere, which led to the band getting signed by Island Records. After Island found out Johnson was openly queer, the momentum behind marketing sagged, and Johnson was dropped by the label. He drowned in hard drugs for a horrible time period but got clean and formed a new band, The Velvet Mafia.

“…follows the legendary Lower East Side performance master Dean Johnson and his bands Dean & The Weenies and The Velvet Mafia.”

Rocknrolla interviews several of Johnson’s Village scene contemporaries, including club columnist for The Village Voice Michael Musto, Heather Litteer, Lady Bunny, Penny Arcade, and Dirty Martini, about how much fun Johnson made life downtown in New York during the turbulent 1980s. They also discuss Johnson’s mysterious death, the circumstances of which are still unclear.

I remember getting into the Pyramid Club in New York and being on the guest list. I got high in a secret chamber and knocked over a lava lamp. Oh yeah, and someone was getting whipped on a stage. Besides that, I remember the shock when the woman with the mohawk tending bar asked $5 for a bottle of beer, as this was 1991, and I could get a whole six for five in any New York bodega.

However, that New Year’s Eve on Saint Marks Place, we rang it in at The Big Bar, singing along to Dean & The Weenies’ anthem “F**k You.” I had drunk 10 drinks in less than 90 minutes and vomited out the window of a moving uptown taxi. A decade later, back on Saint Marks, my wife bought a Dean & The Weenies t-shirt she wore until it disintegrated.