Spring Breakers

Spring Breakers ★★★★½

The first time I watched Spring Breakers I chuckled at James Franco's grill-grinning performance and greatly admired the stunning neon bathing suit enhanced cinematography of Benoit Debie. But the package left me cold. But, like a pop song, after brushing it off with a "meh", I couldn't get it out of my head. The chorus got better each time I sang it to myself. "Spring break for-ev-er."

Video games, pop music, and gangster posturing don't speak to me, but certain images and refrains took up space in my brain like all the lyrics to every popular 90s song when I was learning to drive. The glittery truancy notices are issued to the neon glow of the bikinis during a shootout that's filmed like an old school arcade game; the fast food robbery that is viewed from the getaway car that slowly moves to the employee entrance, presented first in a game-like single take, and second as a violent brag to impress people' and of course, Franco performing fillatio on a gun and bragging about all his shit.

Spring Breakers is a cotton candy film; it's full of empty calories, surrounded by blinking lights and tents promising freaks and tricks, and it's handed to us by a carnie filmmakers. Harmony Korine has hosed down the vomit on the roller coaster ride so we can put our hands up in the air as we swoosh down. Ultimately, like a pop song, the chorus might be inane, but the bridge has some major hooks. As a movie, Spring Breakers is an album that was made for remixes. And like the ironic desire of pop music, we'll be nostalgic for this film the older we get. In that way, it truly is "forever."

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