Shot on decidedly pre-DV tape, harmony Korine’s latest is a diary of ugly characters doing uglier things in the Nashville suburbs.
From kids cramming razor blades into apples to geriatrics inserting their unspeakables into dustbins, this could be either incisive and hilarious, or a colossal waste of time.
Korine’s visionary but self-indulgent talent make it neither. Sure, it’s an overbearing, structure-starved mess. And maybe it’s just a trick of those eerie midnight street lights, but there is a strange, horrible kind of poetry in the bizarre bombast.