THE BEACH BUM: In The Land Of Filth & Excess

Harmony Korine has a fascination with Florida, as made clear by his 2012 cult hit Spring Breakers, which wields itself as a hallucinatory art house trip harboring commentary on the nature of capitalism, pop culture, and youthful self-destruction. But he’s also interested in duality, capable of admiring both the glow of the moon flickering across open ocean waters, and the grime hidden underneath the skinny girls in neon bathing suits and kitschy plastic margarita cups.

In what one could consider a similar vein as David Lynch, Korine seemed to be drawn to the darkness concealed within the outward gleam of the carefree, beach-going lifestyle; the malevolence people are capable of, even when shielded by a colorful façade of beach balls and blunts.

Thus, The Beach Bum feels decidedly different from Korine’s previous endeavor at prodding our innate wickedness, a film where Matthew McConaughey can be found basking in pique form: greasy and shirtless and lazing around with bare-breasted girls on a boat named “Well Hung,” while enduring minor consequences and evading them when actually dealt. The film takes us through the highs, and lows, and never-ending highs of McConaughey’s Moondog – a devil-may-care doper who is most at home when hanging with the lowlifes of the Florida Keys. It’s an experience bathed in pinks and greens and wreaking of sex; a film so caked in its own sickly sweet indulgence you struggle to discern what has to be a commentary on wealth, privilege, and excess. But the ride is so deliciously filthy, it’s hard to not enjoy what only sits on the cocaine-dusted surface.

Moondog’s Odyssey

Moondog is a once-successful poet who spends his autumn years wreaking hedonistic havoc in the Florida Keys. He recites his poetry at darkened, dingy clubs featuring the stylings of Jimmy Buffet, when he’s not flirting with women of all ages, partaking in whatever drugs happen to come his way, and struggling to work on his upcoming novel – an issue often belabored to him by his agent, Lewis (Jonah Hill). To say that Moondog is “carefree” would be an understatement, but he relishes in his status as a local legend in such a delightfully muck-encrusted part of the world that only someone like Moondog could view as a true paradise.

The Florida Keys are Moondog’s getaway from his real life, one of lavish opulence by way of his wealthy wife, Minnie (Isla Fisher). Though Moondog’s legacy as a celebrated poet is still alive and well (if mostly past its prime), its Minnie’s money that funds Moondog’s constant excursions from his upper-class reality. But Moondog soon finds himself briefly torn from his beloved delinquent kingdom in order to attend the wedding of his daughter, Heather (Stefania LaVie Owen) and her “limp dick” fiancé Frank (Joshua Ritter). There, after a night of drinking, smoking, general joyous debauchery and embarrassment of his own daughter, Moondog discovers that Minnie has been having an ongoing affair with the couples’ mutual friend, Lingerie (Snoop Dogg). Though he initially abandons the wedding party in shock, Moondog and Minnie soon find themselves back together, caught in an exhilaratingly intoxicated night that changes the course of Moondog’s life.

Miscreants, Margaritas, McConaughey

The film is a sensory overload of serene euphoria; somehow pure pleasure to watch Moondog snort coke, snuggle a kitten in a club, ramble absurd poetry about watching people “perish violently,” and go down on Minnie while she receives a pedicure (complete with animalistic slurping sounds). It’s not unlike Spring Breakers in the way it overwhelms you with its candy-colored neon lights and complete and total self-indulgence – simultaneously entrancing you to yearn for your own place within Moondog’s perverse story, while still remaining moderately appalled by it and thankful you’re sitting quietly in a darkened theater. But there’s still this sense of something you’re missing out on, of a life of total and utter inane luxury that can only be properly portrayed through Korine’s dreamlike filmmaking.

Watching McConaughey in such an unhinged yet utterly blissed-out role feels like the one his entire career has been building up to, and the “mature,” “serious” parts he’s taken on in the years since the advent of the McConaissance seem like child’s play by comparison. Moondog is less a separate being from McConaughey than he is like a reunion with McConaughey’s former celebrity self; the breezy, shirtless young ladies’ man who preceded unexpectedly highbrow turns from True Detective to Interstellar. If anything, The Beach Bum is a joy solely because of McConaughey and how much fun he’s having with the role. Whether or not he is truly at one with Moondog is one thing, but he’s still completely immersed in the character, intertwined with Moondog like a second layer of liquor-soaked skin.

The film’s equally starry cast is just as much a delight as McConaughey. Jonah Hill’s albeit brief appearances as Moondog’s manager are accented by a bizarre and hilarious attempt at a southern drawl, while Isla Fisher, ever-charming, is nothing short of believable as Moondog’s true soulmate. Martin Lawrence shows up at one point as a sleezy dolphin-watching tour guide, and then there’s Zac Efron and his gigantic pair of jeans. Also, yeah, Jimmy Buffet really does make a couple appearances. And he’s inexplicably friends with Snoop Dogg’s character!

Somewhere underneath the enchanting music cues and lavish set designs is something to be said about the nature of wealth and privilege. How a white man who writes mediocre poetry about f*cking his wife can deign to exude such a kinship with the dankest alleys of the Florida Keys, as a front for his own unwieldy affluence; or how he can be afforded as little character arc as a film that truly doesn’t know how to write one. How easily we can be distracted by this image of happiness and extravagance, while a derelict like Moondog can easily get away with murder and, in the end, only be rewarded. It’s true that The Beach Bum seems to celebrate Moondog’s actions, but knowing Korine there must be something that we’ve left overlooked, and the film begins to come off as an intentional misdirection –  a distraction from the true ugliness of its own lead character.

The Beach Bum: Conclusion

But even before swimming deeper below the surface, The Beach Bum is purely a good time. It’s joyous to watch Moondog cackle insanely into the night sky and smoke blunts bigger than his own hand. It’s a love letter to the unlikely beauty found in the gutters of Florida, the artsy stoner comedy only Harmony Korine could concoct and, perhaps, in a few years’ time, it will receive the cult acclaim and heady analysis that Spring Breakers was eventually granted.

“I’m a reverse paranoiac…” Moondog croons, “I believe the world is conspiring to make me happy.” For the moment, at least, it just feels like we should be happy alongside him.

What did you think of The Beach Bum?

The Beach Bum was released in the US on March 29th, 2019. For full international release dates, see here.

https://youtu.be/SQWgZ1OXBzU