"Spring Breakers," that cultural phenomenon about scantily clad college co-eds and James Franco's "sh-t," may also have another name: "fever dream."
From The New York Times and Rolling Stone to right here at HuffPost Entertainment, it seems that writing about "Spring Breakers" without also mentioning illness-caused hallucinations is forbidden. Calling Harmony Korine's film a fever dream is, to quote the film, constant, y'all. Ahead, the 17 best uses of fever dream as shorthand for the fever dream that is "Spring Breakers." ...
Every generation has movies that showcase the idiocy of youth, though. What Korine's film makes a haunting case for, among several other things, is that the current generation has absolutely nothing to say themselves.
Don’t let the sandy beaches and brightly colored bikini suits fool you, Korine’s not in the business of sloppy moviemaking. Behind the film’s vacuous candy-colored outer shell are ambiguous and morally challenging concepts.
For my generation (I’m 27), having that kind of rad “personal brand” is the neoliberal American dream. Now it goes dark. In and after that double-barrelled sequence, our gun molls-turned-gangsters are filmed to appear as interchangeable as possible. Brit and Candy, Candy and Brit, are a new, impersonal brand of girl. They don’t sell flesh for money, or anything else, nope. They are money made flesh.
This is precisely what makes the film work, the very thing that will threaten to drive you from the theater in protest: Korine presents this culture, not for the assessment of knowing outsider — within, for example, ironic quotes marks or a moralizing narrative — but through the eyes of its most ecstatic participants, the camera roaming through the seas of anonymous dancing body parts, palpably elated by the unhinged, unparented energy. When Faith (Selena Gomez), the film’s vague outline of a moral center, begs in confusion and panic, “I feel uncomfortable, I want to go home,” it’s like having one’s mind read: Yes, I feel uncomfortable and want to go home. But when these four girls sing Spears’s well-loved “Hit Me Baby One More Time” in a convenience store parking lot, you realize, of course, you are home, this is home turned up.
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