Sometimes I Write About Movies in Excited Tones and Alienate Everybody

Spring Breakers is the most America since Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas(the book).  It’s everything people told me Django Unchained was—but actually was.  I just got back from seeing it—and it was the richest, most engrossing film I’ve seen in a theater in awhile.  I wasn’t a fan of Harmony Korine’s early stuff—but with his short films and music videos for Die Antwoord I was very interested to see where he was going with all of this—and Spring Breakers was it.

It’s like if Dogville and Manderlay were told from an actual American.  A Terrence Mallick film used to be about something.  Tree of Life was just mindless bullshit by someone disconnected from anything—past their prime of being able to speak with force.  Korine owns that that shit—all of your lame voice overs of pretty cinematography are henceforth property of him.

This film is so rich.  There’s things to talk about in terms of race in america.  Guns in america.  Youtube.  Social Media.  Being a woman in America.  Money.  Drugs.  Spring Break. 

The scene with Selena Gomez where she’s basically in tears because up until that point black people were just something you heard on the radio—the way Alien keeps asking her why she’s uncomfortable—and Korine frames up that this isn’t the white washed fake artifice that she was wanting to relive from MTV.  That scene alone would have made the movie. 

Spring Break goes all the way back to reconcstruction.  It’s this shifty time mix of the fucked up brain soup we’re at in 2013.  The White girl terrorist.  The oppression of being a woman in america.  How Korine shows you how every second of every day women are broken down and sexualized—cut up continiually into body parts for the amusement of men, and the bottom line of making money.  It’s the come back on every rap song that talked about fucking bitches—and the logical end point of the white girls who grew up listening to that shit, still making no money compared to men.  No future but age 17 to 22.  Money, bitches, and guns culture.  Reconstituted to “pretend it’s a video game, pretend your in a movie”—click the picture, click the screen, freeze the moment—be young, be beautiful forever.

It’s a death cult movie about demons and witch burnings.  Cultural terrorists/tourists.  White girls shooting black men, directed by white privileged men.

And a million other things.  Fuck.  Something actually about something.  About nothing.  About the nothingness and how fucking poisoned the well is—and it’s not even exploitation cinema in that sense—this isn’t a moral film.  It doesn’t end with a this is horrible—this should be changed—look what we’ve done, the horror, the horror.  It’s about the liberation of death and nothingness.  The embrace of every thing of every second—because the emptiness is everything we have, will ever have, and you can be anything you want, no matter who you are—because the beautiful thing is you’ll always be nothing, and everything matters and doesn’t matter at the same time.  Are you crazy for Jesus?  Put a bullet in his brain, and pray harder.

I love that this movie happened, that there were ten million production companies at the front of it, that I saw it in a theater in fucking Tulsa, Oklahoma—that people left the theater confused, angry, and stupider for their time.

This is the kind of movie you have to take deep breaths after, before it completely warps what you’re doing in your own art.  If I weren’t broke, I’d go see it seven more times tomorrow.  Fuck every movie, you told me about for 2012 and 2013.

I love being alive in this fucked up weird brain warp of a future we live in now.

Cliff Martinez to score everything.  Is it too late to cast Vanessa Hudgens in Lords of Salem?  She’s #2013RaoulDuke.  Even making that reference makes me old.

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