Elizabeth Wood
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The movie, which observes the world from Leah’s entitled perspective, is the latest in a continuing line of shockers (including “Kids” and “Spring Breakers”), whose depictions of greedy drug-taking and promiscuity are inescapably titillating.
Like “Spring Breakers,” or “Kids,” “White Girl” speaks to youth in tailspin using its own prickly, audacious language, and in doing so announces Wood as one of 2016’s most vital new voices in filmmaking.
Comparisons will inevitably be made with Larry Clark’s Kids (1995), another New York-set succes de scandale about young people out of control that, like this, was produced by Christine Vachon’s Killer Films.
Brace yourself for the salvo that is Elizabeth Wood’s White Girl, the latest in the perennial state-of-the-union movie concerning “today’s youth,” a genre that, yes, goes beyond Larry Clark’s Kids (a film that I often wish never existed, just so people would stop referencing it).
Leah’s careless cavorting through the grimy underbelly of New York—where cocaine and oral sex are more abundant than cabs—has earned White Girl comparisons to Larry Clark’s provocative Kids and Harmony Korine’s hedonistic Spring Breakers.
Loud, flashy and acridly exuberant, an upper and a major downer rolled into one, the movie is one of two vividly cinematic youth portraits this year (the other being Andrea Arnold’s forthcoming “American Honey”) that seem to have been conceived under the spell of “Kids,” the landmark 1995 film about aimless, amoral New York teenagers that put Larry Clark on the map and confirmed the worst fears of parents who saw it.
Moreover, she projects an unquenchable sensuality that evokes young Samantha Morton in films like Carine Adler’s Under the Skin (1997) and Lynne Ramsay’s Morvern Callar, movies in which young women, pumped up full of emotion and hormones, also have a great time making bad choices.
Moreover, she projects an unquenchable sensuality that evokes young Samantha Morton in films like Carine Adler’s Under the Skin (1997) and Lynne Ramsay’s Morvern Callar, movies in which young women, pumped up full of emotion and hormones, also have a great time making bad choices.
Somewhere between Catherine Hardwicke’s Thirteen and Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers lies the rebellious mood of Elizabeth Wood’s White Girl, a Sundance firecracker that easily finds its place among the cinematic canon of great dramas cut from the good-girl-gone-bad cloth.
The movie, which observes the world from Leah’s entitled perspective, is the latest in a continuing line of shockers (including “Kids” and “Spring Breakers”), whose depictions of greedy drug-taking and promiscuity are inescapably titillating.
Like “Spring Breakers,” or “Kids,” “White Girl” speaks to youth in tailspin using its own prickly, audacious language, and in doing so announces Wood as one of 2016’s most vital new voices in filmmaking.
Leah’s careless cavorting through the grimy underbelly of New York—where cocaine and oral sex are more abundant than cabs—has earned White Girl comparisons to Larry Clark’s provocative Kids and Harmony Korine’s hedonistic Spring Breakers.
But Leah’s awakening is an entirely different kind of beast than Clark’s Kids, or Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers , another film White Girl has been compared to.
If this sounds like the kind of thing we’ve seen before, whether in “Kids” or “Spring Breakers” or any number of kids-do-shocking-things-these-days films, it is.
Somewhere between Catherine Hardwicke’s Thirteen and Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers lies the rebellious mood of Elizabeth Wood’s White Girl, a Sundance firecracker that easily finds its place among the cinematic canon of great dramas cut from the good-girl-gone-bad cloth.
Somewhere between Catherine Hardwicke’s Thirteen and Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers lies the rebellious mood of Elizabeth Wood’s White Girl , a Sundance firecracker that easily finds its place among the cinematic canon of great dramas cut from the good-girl-gone-bad cloth.
Whether their “West Side Story” romance is destined to last, Blue consistently gives Leah good advice: Don’t take the drugs I sell, stay away from the crazy and dangerous people in the neighborhood, and don’t get involved in selling to white people in Manhattan.
Served up as an extreme survival story, Wood’s gut-wrenching experience packs the same sickening effect as past Killer Films productions “Party Monster” and “Kids,” albeit with even less social value.
It’s the same indifference towards the future exemplified by the unmotivated Greta Gerwig in Frances Ha, but this is the much darker side of that coin.