A lot has been said about Harmony Korine’s so-terrible-it’s-kind-of-awesome film Spring Breakers, much of it questioning whether the film is a vapid cinematic redux of Girls Gone Wild: This Time They’re Armed or a profound social commentary on teenage overindulgence. A brief summary: Four girls—the type who ombré their hair pink and wear candy necklaces as accessories for their neon bikinis that they pretty much never change out of, even in jail (Floridian, age-of-Skrillex Lolitas on cocaine, if you will)—go on spring break and drink and snort and fuck and play with guns.
