The Cinematheque

“Problematic, troubling, dangerous even, but breathtakingly original, and absolutely true to the times. The cutting edge doesn’t get any sharper than this.”

Tom Charity, Time Out

Few American film debuts have incited such polarity (and ferocity) of opinion as Harmony Korine’s incendiary first feature. Met with a maelstrom of contempt when it premiered at Telluride—New York Times critic Janet Maslin called it the ​“worst film of the year”—it was defended by a handful of controversy-hardened auteurs who recognized its formal brilliance and willingness to reify new, sometimes unsavory things onscreen. (“A revolution in the language of cinema,” as Bernardo Bertolucci put it.) Named after the neglected Marx Brother, Korine’s calling-card masterpiece is a surreal, exhilaratingly nonlinear, non-judgemental snapshot of suburban ennui set in a strange, post-apocalyptic Xenia, Ohio—but really, the recesses of Korine’s own Nashville, Tennessee. Jean Yves Escoffier, handpicked for his pyrotechnic camerawork for Leos Carax, captures the film’s punkish nihilism—and overlooked beauty—with impromptu, vérité-style aplomb. The angular, unforgettable cast features local non-actors as well as Chloë Sevigny and a magnetic Linda Manz (Days of Heaven).

“A true science fiction film … The entertainment of the future.”

Werner Herzog