Sarah Morris’s review published on Letterboxd:
Impulse to watch this a few times soon, maybe like solid for a week, on a loop.
It’s hypnotic. Like the concept of Spring Break it paints, it feels like a habitable fantasy. At least until you’ve run out of euphemisms for frenzied sensation-seeking to use on your calls home to mom; like you’ll eventually run out of money for the hotel room, or come up short for bail.
I’ve felt this way, caught up in an escape to later come around to the realization of how swept away I’d been, how myopic my vision had become... mastered enough of the game to learn it wasn’t for me. For some of us this process is part of growing.
At times, watching film has become more than a momentary engagement or escape, becoming part of the fabric of a fantasy. It’s been elemental to setting the scene for a deeper dive part of me knows is unwise as much as, say, singing Britney songs on the bay in a pink balaclava may lead here to greater convolutions.
“Mom, I love this movie. All the characters are SO nice. I think I’ve really found myself in it.”