Last Thursday I caught the showing of the lurid, controversial and oh so millennial work that is Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers as part of the Guilt-free Pleasures season at the Picture House. Having never seen the film in cinemas before, I was eager to revisit it in all of its neon-clad glory.

The existing cult following of Spring Breakers has seen a revival in recent years thanks to the pop culture phenomenon that was Charli XCX’s BRAT – a conceptual dance album that echoes the film’s motifs of party culture – and the track Spring Breakers that appeared on its deluxe edition last summer. This screening then seemed perfectly apt following the film experiencing somewhat of a renaissance, thirteen years after its initial release.

Intercut with frenzied, Skrillex-scored beach montages of (real life) spring breakers, the film follows Faith (Selena Gomez), Candy (Vanessa Hudgens), Brit (Ashley Benson) and Cotty (Rachel Korine), four young women studying in a Kentucky University town. Listless, jaded and left to their own devices during spring break, they hatch a plan to break free from their dorms and party with the masses. What begins as a quest for freedom and empowerment quickly turns sideways when we meet Alien (James Franco), a local drug dealer and wannabe gangster who has his own plans for the girls. As the third film to be picked up and distributed by A24, Spring Breakers certainly played its part in establishing the studio’s distinctive brand; It served as a stylistic and narrative precursor to later releases in the A24 catalogue like American Honey (2016), Good Time (2017) and Zola (2020), films that also employed naturalism, hyperreal elements and dream-like imagery to explore the intricacies of American life.

Before going into the rewatch, I hadn’t realised just how much of Spring Breakers I was missing watching at home. With the film being shot on 35mm, the intention behind the texture, colour and lighting was felt rather than just seen on the big screen. The encompassing warm pink hues briefly lure the audience into the same naive fantasy that the characters inhabit, where wealth and adventure promise escape from the boredom and emptiness of their lives back home. Sickly, seedy greens and moody blues soon seep in though, and they serve as a gnawing reminder of the rot that lies just beneath. The constant flux between these two states captures the familiar feeling of a night out turned sour – when the party goes on, but the fun ended hours ago.

The film lays its themes on thick, turning the American Dream inside out to expose the corruption, exploitation and violence that are indelibly tied to the pursuit of wealth and power. The hyperreal, oneiric world Korine builds around these forces warps them into their most absurd and heightened form. With a narrative that centres around the corruption and exploitation of four young women, it was of course by design that Disney starlets (Gomez and Hudgens) and their teen show adjacent (Benson) – women who grew up in the industry, mythologised as icons of teen girlhood and innocence – were cast for the starring roles. The same can also be said for Britney Spears, whose music features recurrently. The depiction of women has been a key point of contention for audiences from the film’s outset; it is left for us to decide whether or not the objectification of the film’s female subjects informs Korine’s satirical commentary on 2010s popular media, and the hypersexualised representations of women that were prevalent within it. Regardless of its intention, the voyeuristic gaze makes for uncomfortable viewing and cultivates a constant sense of foreboding for these women.

The performances are less than standout, with most veering into the ridiculous (Franco’s appearances especially elicited groans from the room). The dialogue and dynamics between characters are bizarre, and they more so monologue and chant ritualistically than talk to each other. This unpolished approach has, to me, always given the film its charm and only emphasised the parodic tone as it riffs off of the moment in which it was conceived. I would go as far as to say that there is no film that embodies 2012 quite like Spring Breakers. It emerged as part of the zeitgeist alongside – or perhaps in reaction to – cultural productions being churned out in the US during the late 2000s and early 2010s with a focus on hedonistic, party culture (see: Project X; Jersey Shore; Indie Sleaze; “Recession Pop” and every song released by LMFAO), material excess and celebrity scandal. It exists as a vestige of a bygone era in the not so distant past, when Instagram was in its infancy, “YOLO” was plastered everywhere, and being a care-free young adult was a novelty.

Despite being Korine’s arguably most accessible and definitely most mainstream film, it still stands today as one of the most polarising works I’ve seen. At the showing, both positive and negative post-credit debriefs could be overheard leaving screen one, but one phrase seemed to unite first-time watchers: “What was that?!”. Throughout the years, the film has amassed a slew of labels: messy, sleazy, vulgar, gratuitous, nonsensical – but I think this is also precisely what grants it staying power and keeps audiences coming back. Whether you see it as empty provocation or biting satire, Spring Breakers has undeniably left its mark.

Sophie Laing

Still showing this week (Tuesday 20:50, Wednesday 17:40 and Thursday 21:00)

Danny and Michael Phillipppu strike again, rather than go more commercial, they instead lean further into the arthouse horror direction than their prior nightmarish thrill ride sensation Talk to Me (2022).

Grief is not a new topic for the Racka Racka duo, but here it is handled in a more nuanced way than their prior film. Both interpret grief as an addictive drug, but this grapples with the moral repercussions of this addiction.

The story follows Andy and his partially blind step sister Piper, whose father has recently passed. They are taken up in the “care” of Laura, who lost her daughter years back. Laura wants to “Bring Her Back”, but has devised a rather demonic way of doing so. Andy sees Laura’s malnourished son Oliver, who appears possessed. Piper is however blind to this blatant abuse, so Laura twists her web to enact her outlandish plan.

Sally Hawkins plays Laura, a very clever casting decision. She plays Mrs Brown in the Paddington movies after all and has such a sweet voice she wouldn’t hurt a fly. It’s that feeling of comfort in her voice the film subverts, as very quickly she becomes this unsettling presence able to put on this kind persona.

It’s a slow burn piece of intrigue, as the depths of the grief and where they take the characters deepen. Laura is still in the denial stage, whereas Andy suffers PTSD- a product of the very different kinds of love lost.

And with Oliver, there’s certainly effective body horror to be found, making for gory scenes but beneath the genre thrills comes this tragic layer of the cycle of abuse and grief to be felt.

The cinematography also feels like a major upgrade, with the limited location providing more creativity with making stunning shots.

A dark horror that doesn’t just use grief as a set-up but as a key part to the narrative. This continues the Phillippou’s streak of harsh and moving horror that sticks.

Harry Denton

Now showing at the Picture House for the rest of the week