Jun 24, 2013
When I discovered that degenerate Judaic auteur and nihilistic neo-vaudevillian Harmony Korine (Gummo, Julien Donkey-Boy) was going to direct a relatively mainstream film featuring Hollywood heartthrob James Franco as a wacked out wigger, not to mention whoring out a couple of Disney mini divas, I was admittedly quite excited, especially considering his seemingly artistically contrived, subsequent post-junky features Mister Lonely (2007) and Trash Humpers (2009) were monumental disappointments of the first order that made me more than question the once ambitious and seemingly unstoppable filmmaker’s artistic integrity. As someone who still regards his directorial debut Gummo (1997) as a delightfully debauched kosher carny comedy masterpiece of the intricately goy-hating sort, I did not want to accept that Korine is a one-hit arthouse wonder who put everything he had to give in a single film at the mere age of 24, but it seems that after a decade lost to heroin/methadone addiction and his recent marriage and becoming a father, Korine lost the sort of untamable energy that made him one of the most loved and hated, as well as idiosyncratic and iconoclastic, independent filmmakers of his generation. Unfortunately, it seems that the time he spent directing music videos for hipster bands like Sonic Youth, Cat Power and Will Oldham had a radically negative effect on Korine’s once anarchistic vaudevillian directing style as his latest feature Spring Breakers—a pseudo-farcical look at a cutesy quartet of girls from the culturally and racially mongrelized iPod generation going on the nihilistic and hedonistic ‘rite of passage’ known as spring break—seems like one ceaselessly ugly, fiercely filler-filled, and aesthetically vacant music video banally depicting the sheer and utter worthlessness of a decidedly decadent and wanton yet worthless generation of Americans whose sole aspiration in life is pleasure for pleasure’s sake at any cost and nothing more. If Spring Breakers is another one of Korine’s celluloid pranks/jokes, the joke is certainly not funny anymore as his latest work is, at best, a sub-softcore flick for pathetic men (Korine included, as his much younger wife is one of the stars of the film) who swoon after pedomorphic teenage girls of the totally untalented and racially ambiguous sort and, at worst, a sign that the director has finally grownup and turned into the typical Hollywood Hebrew, who revoltingly slobbers over and cinematically defiles youthful shiksa chicks, especially of the ostensibly innocent and virginal sort, while also pushing all the most deleterious untermensch pseudo-kultur ingredients that reflect the racial, cultural, moral, and spiritual nightmare that is the seemingly apocalyptic, post-European United States of America. Like a vaguely heterosexual post-Finding Forrester (2000) Gus van Sant flick as directed by the ungodly hate child of Paris Hilton, Eminem, Hype Williams, and Howard Stern, Spring Breakers is a banally bacchanalian depiction of the post-counter-culture American dream where a fucked foursome of morally devoid and equally naïve bourgeois gals get a lesson from a loveable white trash wigger in what it takes to rise to the top of the sociopathic and cannibalistic American plutocracy in a film so stupid, artificial, and feckless in its storyline that it could have only been directed by an American Jew of the post-holocaust generation. Described by countless film reviewers as a so called “fever dream,” Spring Breakers features virtually every reason why America is the most infectious metaphysical disease the world has ever known as a putrid piece of phantasmagorical and kaleidoscopic celluloid anti-art, insipid nihilism of the needless and heedless sort, and cutthroat kosher capitalism. If you ever wonder why medieval-minded towelheads from the Middle East have described America as “Great Satan,” look no further than kosher Korine's totally tedious exercise in girls-gone-recklessly-wanton materialistic excess and pseudo-ecstasy, Spring Breakers.
The whorishly named Faith (Selena Gomez), Brit (Ashley Benson), Candy (Vanessa Hudgens), and Cotty (Rachel Korine) are four childhood friends and rather naïve college students from a small town who hope to “find themselves” via spring break vacation, but the problem is that they do not have the cash to fund their fun. Out of all the girls, Faith, the only one to not have trashy and unnaturally dyed hair, is also the only with any sort of moral compass due to her semi-serious dedication to Christianity, but her friends are a bunch of soulless sinners who take massive bong hits to forget their complete and utter lack of intrinsic values and spirituality. To fund their trip to the sunny and superlatively superficial sunny beaches of Florida, Brit and Candy nonsensically rob a family fast food restaurant with hammers and squirt guns and Cotty drives the getaway girl, thus figuratively making their pact with the devil. Although baby girl-like Faith is disturbed by her criminally-inclined friends’ senseless, if not monetarily fruitful, actions, she agrees to join them on their all-expenses paid spring break vacation in the dirty Southeast. Upon arriving on the sunny beaches of Florida, the frisky foursome immediately begins engaging in degenerate Dionysian spring break partying, which includes flashing and waving their twats and tits in front of random strangers’ faces, partying hard with fetus-like wimpy wiggers snorting lines of coke off flat-chested breasts, taking countless gigantic bong hits and shot gunning cans of beer, and various other forms of ecstasy-striving forms of momentary mental derangement. Unfortunately, the cops show up at one of these parties and busts the four girls, as well as two identical twin wigger gangstas known as the “ATL Twins” (played by quasi-incestuous degenerate skaters Sidney and Thurman Sewell, who also go by the name the ATL twins in real-life and are known to share the same girlfriend) for narcotic possession. Luckily, a superlatively loathsome yet paradoxically likeable white trash named fellow “Alien” (James Franco), the gang leader of the negrophiliac criminal outfit that the ATL twins belong to, takes an instant liking to the girls and bails them out of jail and hopes to make them special femme fatale-like members of his culturally retarded and proudly illiterate crew of spring-breaker-robbing and extraterrestrial dope and arms dealing philistine thugs with patently putrid pomo style. Not unsurprisingly, the only religious member of the curiously cutesy quartet, Faith decides to stick with her faith and bails on her friends and takes a bus home after being surrounded by Alien’s mostly Negroid, gun-stroking, four-wheeler riding, and drug-addled friends, but Brit, Candy, and Cotty take an instant liking to the out-of-this-world gang leader and become honorary half-naked members of his colorful crime ring. A true blue entrepreneur who achieved the American dream by going from rags to riches as the only white boy from an all-black neighborhood and the only member of his family to live to adulthood, Alien is proud to admit while showing the girls around his schlock-ridden and terribly tasteless mansion that: “This is the fuckin' American dream. This is my fuckin' dream, y'all! All this sheeyit! Look at my sheeyit! I got... I got SHORTS! Every fuckin' color. I got designer T-shirts! I got gold bullets. Motherfuckin' VAM-pires. I got Scarface. On repeat. SCARFACE ON REPEAT. Constant, y'all! I got Escape!” and, indeed, he lives a sort of Negro-fried postmodern take on the anti-hero of De Palma’s overrated 1983 mob flick, but that all changes when reality smacks him in his ugly gold-plated grill.
Although his former protégé and best friend, Alien now has a major beef with a seemingly half-braindead and beefy black gang leader Archie (real-life criminal rapper Gucci Mane), who feels the jaded white boy is steppin’ on his turf and proving to be bad for his black, black market business. In an essentially failed drive-by shooting meant to take out Alien and his girls, archenemy Archie’s associate wounds Cotty in the arm, so she comes to the realization that things are no longer fun and are getting dangerous, so her spring break has reached its dramatic conclusion and she decides to go back home, thus proving that Brit and Candy—the two girls who committed the seemingly insane robbery to get the money to go to spring break in the first place—are the two alpha-chicks among their clique. To show their solidarity with his capitalist cause, Brit and Candy engage in a threesome with Alien in his luxurious pool in a ritualistic manner and not long after they head to Archie’s neon-colored mansion estate for one final showdown for taking over the criminal underground of St. Petersburg. Rather absurdly, Alien is shot dead with a single bullet to the head before he barely makes it onto his negro nemesis’ flamboyant rainbow-colored property, but his two girls Brit and Candy, sporting their signature pink ski masks and bikinis, come in unloading a storm of bullets and killing everyone (no less than ten people) on the big-time crook’s property. While leaving Archie's crib, the two lurid and seemingly loony lethal lasses plant a kiss on the head of Alien’s cadaver, thus thanking their ghetto guru for schooling them in cannibalistic cutthroat capitalism that they will ultimately utilize after graduating from college and entering the corporate world.
While Faith proved to be too weak and meek to fully embrace her spring break and Cotty eventually quit when things got dangerous, ballsy yet brainless bitches Brit and Candy proved to be all-American business women and postmodern feminists as the only two of the foursome that could juggle business and pleasure, the two materialistic ingredients post-racial/post-cultural ‘successful’ Americans aspire for. Neither truly an indictment nor parody of Generation Y, Spring Breakers is essentially a cynical joke on the part of auteur Harmony Korine at the expense of a valueless generation of Americans—the very same zeitgeist of youth his film was marketed towards—that his racial kinsmen in heeb Hollywood, MTV, and the mainstream spiritually defiled with their anti-kultur bogus materialism, xenophilia, and unwaveringly glorification of crime and corruption. Of course, considering the film ending up grossing $31.7 million at the worldwide box office against a mere $5 million production budget, Korine is undoubtedly laughing all the way to the bank and has finally established himself as a mainstream Hollywood director to be reckoned with. Not unsurprisingly, Korine went so far as to even whore out his young wife and the mother of his daughter, Rachel Korine, who on top of flashing her little ass and tits, making out with anonymous buff bros, and acting like a tyrannical teen tramp, sings “you're never gonna get this pussy” while grabbing her naughty bits in a terribly tasteless scene in Spring Breakers that proves the director has finally whored himself out to Tinseltown and has taken his spouse and a couple ex-Disney dames along for the pseudo-risqué ride. Featuring James Franco giving a sensitive wiggerfied performance of Britney Spears’ “Everytime” on his angelically white poolside piano, soulless tracks by Skrillex and Nicki Minaj, the most emaciated holocaust survivor-esque looking white niggers in the history of filmmaking, a pseudo-hot hodgepodge of the stupidest scantily clad college kids in American history, and an apocalyptic candy-colored anti-aesthetic that once again proves that Korine is a magnet and worshipper of all that is ugly and stupid in this world like his kin in Hollywood as a people who derive almost spiritual satisfaction from destroying beauty and bringing physical and metaphysical disfigurement to the world, Spring Breakers is vivid proof that the director no longer has jokes/pranks worthy of telling, but has settled for recycling the same old Semitic gags from the Israelite bargain bin. The fact that Korine recently announced he planned to release a remix of Spring Breakers proves all the more that it is nothing more than one big and overly expensive music video of the supremely soulless, racially mongrelized, and culturally retarded sort that does more than enough to conform that what a certain German nationalist party from the early twentieth century said about the director’s people. Apparently, Korine was partially inspired to write the script for Spring Breakers to makeup for the fact that he missed out on such MTV-addled degeneracy when he was attempting to become a professional skateboarder during his early adult years and it certainly shows as a work that seems like an ADHD-ridden middle-life crisis piece directed by a curious kosher crackhead with an unhealthy fixation for pedomorphic ladies lacking in curves. Still, I wish Korine well on his unintentional quest to help speed up the decline of Judaic America with his future films and I have a feeling that Spring Breakers is just a small taste of the cultural decay and social malignancy that he will bring to Hollywood in uncoming years.
Posted by Soiled Sinema at 8:50 PM
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