"He's from another dimension. He really is."
This is how Minnie (Isla Fisher), the absurdly wealthy wife of stoner beat poet Moondog (Matthew McConaughey), characterizes her husband during a brief conversation in the early goings of Harmony Korine's The Beach Bum, a raucous and loose comedy of sweetly lovable and profoundly intoxicated madness. At this point, Moondog's rampant immaturity and juvenile sensibilities are no secret-- he already rolled into the lavish wedding of his daughter Heather (Stefania LaVie Owen) at the very last minute, eventually opting to give her new groom the nickname of Limpdick (Joshua Ritter). He's the kind of dude who finds a cat on the street and gives it a unique concoction of milk and Pabst Blue Ribbon, later crashing a Key West concert to read his latest poem about his sex life. There's rarely a moment where he isn't high or drunk off some substance, and he always wakes up with a pair of models next to him. Moondog is, without question, a man who seems to have stumbled into our world from some other plane of existence.
But for all his flaws and one-of-a-kind quirks, his family still loves him. And eventually, most viewers will find a way to love him, too. This is the strangely satisfying trick of Korine's latest film, which itself seems to be a product of an inter-dimensional exchange of artistic products. We gave the aliens a copy of Green Book, and they gave us The Beach Bum in return. Six years after Korine sent a wrecking ball to the indie scene with Spring Breakers (and helped establish powerhouse brand A24 in the process), the American maestro of excess returns with another stylistically daring outing, albeit one that's significantly more pleasant and heartfelt than the aforementioned tale of drugs, violence, and "sprang braak" insanity. Still, this is a film that rides to the beat of its own disjointed, stoned out wavelength-- you'll either settle in or get lost in the haze.
*Spoilers (?) below*
To the extent that The Beach Bum features an actual plot, it kicks in shortly after Heather's wedding, when a surprising, drug-influenced car crash results in Minnie's death. Concerned that her perpetually wasteful husband would burn her fortune to the ground, Minnie inserted a crucial stipulation into her will: Moondog needs to publish his long-awaited magnum opus before he can receive his inheritance. Moondog may seem like your average stoner who hasn't showered in weeks, but he's actual viewed as something of an artistic genius in the Florida community, even if his talent is consistently held back by his predilection for beers and weed. After another run-in with the law, Moondog embarks on a quest that will see him drifting across the outer fringes of society, all in the hopes of completing his own poetic epic.
There is virtually no way to sell Korine's film without mentioning the indelible pleasures that make it such a joy. At one point, McConaughey's Moondog leads a motley crew of homeless skaters on a march to his late wife's mansion, where they promptly destroy a ton of property for no discernible reason. When Moondog is checked into rehab, he decides to escape with Flicker (Zac Efron), a Christian metal enthusiast with a taste for free-spirited mayhem that might even exceed his own. Jonah Hill stars as a literary agent with a ridiculous Southern accent; at one point, he calls Moondog a "f*ckboy." In maybe the centerpiece of the entire crazy affair, Moondog becomes an assistant to Captain Wack (Martin Lawrence), an irresponsible dolphin tour guide who loves to talk to innocent families about dolphin orgies. There's also a scene where Snoop Dogg and Jimmy Buffett (playing himself) sing a duet about McConaughey's character. This movie is, to put it mildly, awesome.
Together with cinematographer Benoît Debie (whose glowing images go a long way in giving the film its sun-baked, carefree vibe) and editor Douglas Crise, Korine relentlessly calls attention to his own complex and idiosyncratic aesthetic of logically organized messiness, where each individual scene seems to be taking place in two different locations at once. There's an almost surreal disjunctive method in play here, where time and space blend together in a way that leaves you dazed and confused, much like Moondog himself. So it's not necessarily surprising that with a jumpy approach to montage and a narrative that seems to logically flow from one bonkers event to the next, Korine's style actually feels like an extension of the mental world of his main character, even if the frenetic touches are sure to be off-putting for a number of viewers.
Yet if the film's first act is arguably its most immediately grating and tiresome, it's also so hyper-stylized that anyone who sticks around will find themselves perfectly situated in Moondog's world-- and more prepared to enjoy what comes next. After being slightly annoyed and exhausted, I found myself slowly entranced by the film, which eventually becomes a series of hilarious vignettes; call it The Many Adventures of Moondog. Korine's script often runs the gamut in terms of narrative content, tackling everything from reckless criminal behavior to the embrace of relaxing vibes. But the randomness of the affair has a cumulative atmospheric effect, plunging every willing audience member into a dream where nothing matters but the fun of the ride itself. I'm not even convinced everything in the film actually happens in the real world, but who cares? This nonsense is the stuff of poetic glory-- time to go with the flow.
Moondog is an irresponsible, perpetually wild figure, but there's a simple beauty to his life and an endearingly human quality to his character. Of course, Moondog is merely a brilliant extension of McConaughey's persona, which makes his contribution to the film and the character completely invaluable; without his unmistakable charms as a performer/movie star, would The Beach Bum even approach comedy classic status? With John Debney's sunny score and Buffett songs drifting in the background, Korine and McConaughey and the whole damn crew are given free reign to do whatever they please. Nobody would want to live life as a Moondog-esque drifter, but for 95 minutes, the blissed-out freedom is damn near intoxicating. By the time Moondog has decided to ride off into the sunset, it's hard to shake the feeling that you've been gifted a rare treat-- a film as hazily magical as it is downright bizarre.
He's from another dimension, indeed. And for a couple hours, we're just living in it.
THE FINAL GRADE: A- (8.4/10)
Images courtesy of NEON
This is how Minnie (Isla Fisher), the absurdly wealthy wife of stoner beat poet Moondog (Matthew McConaughey), characterizes her husband during a brief conversation in the early goings of Harmony Korine's The Beach Bum, a raucous and loose comedy of sweetly lovable and profoundly intoxicated madness. At this point, Moondog's rampant immaturity and juvenile sensibilities are no secret-- he already rolled into the lavish wedding of his daughter Heather (Stefania LaVie Owen) at the very last minute, eventually opting to give her new groom the nickname of Limpdick (Joshua Ritter). He's the kind of dude who finds a cat on the street and gives it a unique concoction of milk and Pabst Blue Ribbon, later crashing a Key West concert to read his latest poem about his sex life. There's rarely a moment where he isn't high or drunk off some substance, and he always wakes up with a pair of models next to him. Moondog is, without question, a man who seems to have stumbled into our world from some other plane of existence.
But for all his flaws and one-of-a-kind quirks, his family still loves him. And eventually, most viewers will find a way to love him, too. This is the strangely satisfying trick of Korine's latest film, which itself seems to be a product of an inter-dimensional exchange of artistic products. We gave the aliens a copy of Green Book, and they gave us The Beach Bum in return. Six years after Korine sent a wrecking ball to the indie scene with Spring Breakers (and helped establish powerhouse brand A24 in the process), the American maestro of excess returns with another stylistically daring outing, albeit one that's significantly more pleasant and heartfelt than the aforementioned tale of drugs, violence, and "sprang braak" insanity. Still, this is a film that rides to the beat of its own disjointed, stoned out wavelength-- you'll either settle in or get lost in the haze.
*Spoilers (?) below*
To the extent that The Beach Bum features an actual plot, it kicks in shortly after Heather's wedding, when a surprising, drug-influenced car crash results in Minnie's death. Concerned that her perpetually wasteful husband would burn her fortune to the ground, Minnie inserted a crucial stipulation into her will: Moondog needs to publish his long-awaited magnum opus before he can receive his inheritance. Moondog may seem like your average stoner who hasn't showered in weeks, but he's actual viewed as something of an artistic genius in the Florida community, even if his talent is consistently held back by his predilection for beers and weed. After another run-in with the law, Moondog embarks on a quest that will see him drifting across the outer fringes of society, all in the hopes of completing his own poetic epic.
There is virtually no way to sell Korine's film without mentioning the indelible pleasures that make it such a joy. At one point, McConaughey's Moondog leads a motley crew of homeless skaters on a march to his late wife's mansion, where they promptly destroy a ton of property for no discernible reason. When Moondog is checked into rehab, he decides to escape with Flicker (Zac Efron), a Christian metal enthusiast with a taste for free-spirited mayhem that might even exceed his own. Jonah Hill stars as a literary agent with a ridiculous Southern accent; at one point, he calls Moondog a "f*ckboy." In maybe the centerpiece of the entire crazy affair, Moondog becomes an assistant to Captain Wack (Martin Lawrence), an irresponsible dolphin tour guide who loves to talk to innocent families about dolphin orgies. There's also a scene where Snoop Dogg and Jimmy Buffett (playing himself) sing a duet about McConaughey's character. This movie is, to put it mildly, awesome.
Together with cinematographer Benoît Debie (whose glowing images go a long way in giving the film its sun-baked, carefree vibe) and editor Douglas Crise, Korine relentlessly calls attention to his own complex and idiosyncratic aesthetic of logically organized messiness, where each individual scene seems to be taking place in two different locations at once. There's an almost surreal disjunctive method in play here, where time and space blend together in a way that leaves you dazed and confused, much like Moondog himself. So it's not necessarily surprising that with a jumpy approach to montage and a narrative that seems to logically flow from one bonkers event to the next, Korine's style actually feels like an extension of the mental world of his main character, even if the frenetic touches are sure to be off-putting for a number of viewers.
Yet if the film's first act is arguably its most immediately grating and tiresome, it's also so hyper-stylized that anyone who sticks around will find themselves perfectly situated in Moondog's world-- and more prepared to enjoy what comes next. After being slightly annoyed and exhausted, I found myself slowly entranced by the film, which eventually becomes a series of hilarious vignettes; call it The Many Adventures of Moondog. Korine's script often runs the gamut in terms of narrative content, tackling everything from reckless criminal behavior to the embrace of relaxing vibes. But the randomness of the affair has a cumulative atmospheric effect, plunging every willing audience member into a dream where nothing matters but the fun of the ride itself. I'm not even convinced everything in the film actually happens in the real world, but who cares? This nonsense is the stuff of poetic glory-- time to go with the flow.
Moondog is an irresponsible, perpetually wild figure, but there's a simple beauty to his life and an endearingly human quality to his character. Of course, Moondog is merely a brilliant extension of McConaughey's persona, which makes his contribution to the film and the character completely invaluable; without his unmistakable charms as a performer/movie star, would The Beach Bum even approach comedy classic status? With John Debney's sunny score and Buffett songs drifting in the background, Korine and McConaughey and the whole damn crew are given free reign to do whatever they please. Nobody would want to live life as a Moondog-esque drifter, but for 95 minutes, the blissed-out freedom is damn near intoxicating. By the time Moondog has decided to ride off into the sunset, it's hard to shake the feeling that you've been gifted a rare treat-- a film as hazily magical as it is downright bizarre.
He's from another dimension, indeed. And for a couple hours, we're just living in it.
THE FINAL GRADE: A- (8.4/10)
Images courtesy of NEON
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