As close to unwatchable as cinema gets, Harmony Korine’s latest stab at alienating his audience seems perversely designed to test the loyalty of those who stuck with the underground auteur through Gummo and Mister Lonely.
How many of those die-hards will make it to the end of this plotless shock-mock-doc? Some might regard doing so as a bizarro badge of honour. Suffice to say, this mish-mash of Jackass-style skits is akin to watching a psychotic’s home video.
It’s a sensation heightened by Korine’s use of archaic VHS to record his protagonists’ activities (i.e. bush wanking, dumpster humping). Like wiping your eyeballs with shit.