I hate movies.
I wrote the screenplay for Spring Breakers where my residuals Harmony you asshole.
Sad to see the remnants of what might have been a fun and somewhat creative franchise entry torn to shreds for the sake of checking off every box on its list of “requirements”. At this point it’s kind like an elongated scavenger hunt for references and threads from previous entries of varying mediums. It’s all so tame.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Under regular circumstances I would have no interest in watching this self explanatory transgressive project but about a week ago, I stumbled upon a wrecked car at around 11:30PM. Said car had crashed though a guard rail and plummeted well over 20ft into a wash. I pulled over, unsure as to what I should do and just starred at the flipped and utterly wrecked car. The left turn signal was still blinking and the horn was still…
From the second the opening track by King Crimson started playing, I knew this was going to be something.
This hypnotic, acid washed nightmare, starring (the man himself) Nicolas Cage, Was exactly what I was looking for and nothing at all. Mandy felt like a metal inspired film yet it featured the most droning and cerebral soundtrack imaginable; it creeps into your skull and melts your spine. It feels less like a film and more of an experience. Incoherence is fully embraced here.