Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers has been quite the buzz of late. To quote SF filmaker/friend/artist, T. Siddle:
Did a double feature of Stoker and Spring Breakers yesterday. Stoker is very very good, I’m not convinced by Spring Breakers (though I liked all the neon and the hideous beach font it used for titles). My experience of the latter was somewhat hampered by the elderly man sitting behind me who made pornographic grunts whenever a semi-naked woman was on screen.
There are lots and lots and lots of half-naked women in this movie, so a grunt per visible breast would be distracting indeed. I also saw Spring Breakers recently, also during a double feature. We went Spring Breakers first, then Olympus Has Fallen. Surprisingly, I liked the first. I thought I would hate it, because I tend to dislike excuses to show naked girls for the sake of showing naked girls. I read about how anti-feminist it was, how exploitative. How the female leads were shallow and hard to differentiate. And yet I was surprised. Korine’s movie is all of those things — however I would argue everyone in this movie is exploited and exploiting, everything is shallow and everything is a product of a corrupt, late capitalist culture. The leading ladies are not liberated in a positive way, necessarily, but they have learned to be so hard and material, so soulless in a way, that they fulfill the very requirements of their image and then go beyond that image to exploit and manipulate and murder. Korine uses so much nudity it becomes boring — yes! — blending a vaccuous (and I’d say also American) desire to “find oneself” in pleasure and abundance, that offers this compelling, albeit gross, portrait of class (perhaps more than anything else) and gender.
It probably could have been shorter, and I think it’s a little too pretty for its own good — as a portrait of corruption, maybe there shouldn’t have been so many breathtaking moments (the Tiqqun-ish Young-Girls dancing in pink unicorn ski masks, pink bathings suits, dayglo sneakers and carrying artillery rifles as drug dealer James Franco plays a former-Mousekateer Brittany Spear’s song on a white piano) but. At least it exploits the rotten-ness of Vice Spring Break — drawing the narrative to an ethical nightmare that is almost lost in the mood of the moment. Blood is spilled in Tarantino proportions, feeling far more hopeless, more pathetic — if only because these main female protagonists (two of them as child stars, the third being Korine’s wife) seem to be on an unconcious gender-revenge mission: as though they are simply products (or surfaces) of a culture, not self-reflecting members. These girls have developed a steel-hearted strategy of care-less-ness. And maybe that’s a zeitgeist at the moment — consider Sofia Coppolo’s new movie about teenage girl robbers:
Spring Breakers felt like a kind of indictment against the American Dream that gave itself so that it’s youth could have any and all possibilities at its beer-guzzling feet, Olympus Has Fallen became such a freak show of propaganda (the White House is under siege and the President’s son is hiding in its halls as his father is held hostage by evil captors below ground). We walked out after 30 minutes of blood soaked not-ironic-enough patriotism. What I’d like to do is splice those two films together, to show the one myth on one side, (of priviledged youth in a commerically marketed Rumspringa excercising its American-ness), and on the other the myth of America’s need to defend itself from an evil Non-American.
Jeffrey Sconce wrote a great review about the film on his blog, Ludicdespair:
In a fair world, or at least one less crippled by stupidity and mediocrity, James Franco’s “Look at my shit” speech from Spring Breakers (2013) would be one of the scenes featured in the Academy’s “Best Picture” clip-reel at next year’s Oscars. Just imagine how amazing it would be to see Ron Howard, Ryan Gosling, or some other safely bankable Hollywood functionary forced to take the stage and read an Academy staff writer’s impression of what Spring Breakers is about:
“In a chilling performance, James Franco captures the essence of evil as he seduces four young girls into a life of crime…”
“James Franco is terrifying as the local crime kingpin who turns an innocent rite of passage into a nightmarish ordeal.”
All of this would be bullshit, of course, but probably as close as Hollywood could come to getting a moralistic bead on this movie’s unapologetic nihilism. But it would all be worth it to see the lights in the Kodak theater go dark so that TV America could witness the corn-rowed, grill-bedazzled “Alien” (James Franco) inventorying the contents of his sick St. Pete bedroom: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!
…This will never happen, of course, because Hollywood will be too busy auto-fellating itself with the historical import, social relevance, and quality competence of another Lincoln or Argo. Meanwhile, Harmony Korine’s sublimely ugly and mean-spirited takedown of American awesomeness will likely go unnoticed, a film that in its own way says, “yeah, Lincoln was a great guy for passing the 13th Amendment and Argo is the story of some very heroic patriots, but in the end, nothing could stop America’s manifestly obscene destiny to become a nightmare of beer funnels, breast implants, blow, and Skrillex. (read more)
This week: Bad at Sports changes in to 88.5 “the shack” for NADA Miami where we were kindly and patiently hosted by Ox-Bow and Jonas Sebura and Alex Gartelmann (who let us set up our lunacy in their sculptural installation).
We talk to John Riepenhoff, artist, gallerist, awesome person (who has work in a show at Western Exhibitions opening this Friday).
Then Art Practical sums up the fair(s) and Patricia expresses her desire to cross genre to breed with a sandwich. Which is odd in that early in the show, and uknown to Patricia, Richard expresses the crushing sadness caused by the loss of a sandwich when Abu’s on Farwell changed owners and became awful.
This show is a fucking masterpiece, stop reading this and listen.
This week: The final report from NADA 2009! Duncan and Amanda talk to artists Nicole Awai, and Valerie Blass.
This weeks intro contains lots of important information. Bad at Sports needs your help with an exciting new project. If you have a question you want answered related to the art world, we’ll get you answers!
January 10, 2010 · Print This Article
This week Bad at Sports begins a three or maybe four part series that we produced at NADA (the New Art Dealers Alliance) Art Fair for 2009.
This week Amanda Browder and Duncan MacKenzie we sit down with Heather Hubbs, NADA’s Director and Chris Duncan, a San Francisco based artist showing with Baer Ridgway Exhibitions. The conversations span a huge gulf as Heather talks about the roll she played in Chicago, galvanizing a scene and what she has done with NADA, while Chris talks about being in the studio, making and what things are like in SF.
Great conversations to kick off a great series that was produced inside one of the best fairs in the country.
We produced a set of limited edition Bad at Sports T-Shirts for the event and have a small number of L, XL, and XXL’s (maybe one or 2 mediums or smalls) left which are available from us for $20.00 a piece. Contact us at firstname.lastname@example.org if you are interested. Read more
This week: The AMANDA BROWDER SHOW! Amanda and Tom start 2010 off with an interview with Miami artists Alain Guerra and Neraldo de la Paz about their collective Guerra de la Paz (awesome composite of their names) about their work, and how clothing can be more than just a shell over one person’s nubile body..but a story and a basis for sculptural exploration.
Then, Mike Benedetto returns!!! He offers up a meditation on Steven Seagal, Lawman.
Guerra de la Paz is the composite name of Cuban born, American artist duo Alain Guerra (born 1968) and Neraldo de la Paz (born 1955), who have been collaborating since 1996. They are based in Miami.
Guerra was born in Havana and de le Paz in Matanzas. Guerra de la Paz work in sculpture, installation and photography. Their work references the politics of modern conflict and consumerism alongside symbols of faith; they often use old clothing to build their sculptures.