Spring Breakers

"act like you're in a movie or something"
as utterly contemptuous as it is willing to luxuriate in the vapid sensuousness of white upper-middle class hedonism, an aesthetic defined by the drift between beauty and vulgarity, corniness and the sublimated genuine. and always, always conscious of the fact that what enables said hedonism is the displacement of violence and pain onto black people, who remain conspicuously marginal amongst the decadence of spring break (especially pointed is the fact that the first girl only goes home when she's finally brought into a predominantly nonwhite space, not to mention the obvious implications of the amoral, consequenceless slaughter the remaining girls commit before their 'vacation' ends). the metaphysical pretensions of their bender are dismantled with blunt irony, selena gomez's spiritual monologues ringing out over depersonalized, fetishistic party footage; the party itself is, as franco's "look at my shit" monologue makes plain, not a break with the emptiness of the capitalism around them but its apotheosis, the accumulation of power, money, and sexual capital so concentrated that cinematic time begins to fold in cycles and epicycles under its weight. white femininity at its purest
"what kind of fun did you wanna have?"

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