The Beach Bum

How do I explain the sheer comedic goodness of The Beach Bum without sounding like a total stoner-eyed Matthew McConaughey stan? It’s true, we do predictably meet his Moondog playing bongos on a boat in Key West, bare-chested with a snake around his neck, but we’re also met with his infectious generosity of spirit that invites viewers to suspend their skepticism and watch the life of a bumbling, brilliant beach poet unfold.

As with other Harmony Korine films, the tone immediately feels bright, loud, larger than life and highly sexual. But The Beach Bum manages to blend carnal encounters, outlandish adventures and easy-breezy living with deep undercurrents of love, fun and friendship. Moondog’s initial declaration of “I gotta go low to get high” perfectly underscores his bottom-feeder aesthetic with his unrelentingly resolute spirit: He’s a beach-bumming “scumbro” with a heart of gold, and we are all invited to watch him sink and/or swim.

If Moondog doesn’t initially win you over with his flaming Guy Fieri-inspired “wedding suit,” he’s certain to make you cackle while he traipses around in an endless stream of women’s clothing, including purple thongs, glittering fanny packs, sequined dresses and deeply unbuttoned Aloha shirts, just to name a few pieces. He defies gender expectations in a surprisingly naturalistic way, which sets viewers up to root for him, even amid his hedonistic urges and countless self-inflicted wounds.

For those who aren’t immediately strapped in for the Moondog’s wild ride, there arises a surprisingly romantic tonal shift in which he and his wife, Minnie (portrayed in perfect manic-pixie Real Housewives of Miami fashion by Isla Fisher), dance on the deck in the afterglow of their daughter’s debaucherous wedding to a man affectionately called “Limp Dick.” This touching scene takes place just after Moondog witnesses Minnie kiss their mutual friend/party DJ, Rie (short for Lingerie, played supremely by Snoop Dogg) to the heartbreaking tune of The Cure’s “Just Like Heaven.” It’s during this painful moment that Moondog is forced to sober up to the reality that he, in all of his fun-loving, beach bum unicorn jerkiness, is actually not at the center of everyone’s universe.

Instead of confronting her, the two begin to sway in the moonlight to Peggy Lee’s “Is That All There Is?” and it’s this scene that attaches true affection and intimacy to its characters. These two, seemingly wed out of convenience, are established as a couple who love hard, fast and unapologetically. They vibrate off one another’s chaotic frequencies in almost exclusively inappropriate ways — cue the joint-smoking out of each other’s toes, plus poolside coitus in front of the hired help — but at the end of the day, they’re each other’s soulmates, and there’s a wonderful humanity to that.

As the film propels forward with a series of unexpectedly dramatic events, Moondog stays afloat with the help of a spectacular supporting cast. Jonah Hill appears as Moondog’s Southern-tongued, queer-adjacent literary agent, golfing in the loudest pants you’ve ever seen, all while scolding him for being an aimless (albeit brilliant) screw-up. Later on in a serenity circle at rehab, we meet another high jinks-enabler in the form of Zac Efron’s Flicker‍‍‍. He appears through a suffocatingly thick vape cloud, sporting what I can only describe as a grill-marked “panini beard” and a spiked jean vest declaring that he is, in fact, a “prayer warrior.” Moondog’s friendship with Flicker highlights the extremes to which they’re both willing to go to in order to find redemption. They declare, “Jesus already paid for our sins,” as they commit numerous criminal acts, and it feels as though they’re in on the irony and just want to give us a ridiculous show along the way.

Moondog repeatedly encounters glaring conflicts between reality and expectation throughout the film, but he seems to move through each with starry, stoned eyes and a shit-eating grin. His resolve to keep moving, keep swimming and keep writing on his typewriter (on the beach, naturally) is just as resolute as his dedication to his fanny-pack-sporting, naked tricycle-riding lifestyle. Like his McConaughey cousin Wooderson from Dazed and Confused, he just wants to keep L-I-V-I-N, even if that means he has to buckle down for a bit and turn his “poetic foreplay” into a published work to maintain his lavish lifestyle.

It’s worth noting that Benoît Debie’s cinematography is nothing short of a lush, dreamy delight. Viewers are invited to bask in the warm Miami sun along with Moondog as he grins up at the sky, donning his wife’s truly fantastic pink flamingo feather robe. It’s a sight bright enough to snap anyone out of any funk and it’s the kind of shot that sets this film apart from Korine’s other decidedly darker endeavors. This film is pure bliss — a comedic piña colada with endless refills.

As a native Floridian, I feel uniquely qualified to comment on Korine’s and Debie’s perfect encapsulation of Florida’s juxtaposing personas — the lush, vibrant, tropical paradise-on-earth vibe and its swampy, overwhelmingly neon, gas station sunglass-sporting tacky counterpart. That is Florida, and in essence, that is Moondog. He is equal parts poetry and beach trash, sweetness and hedonism, and that dichotomy is one that McConaughey pulls off with an earnest effortlessness that you can’t help but get behind.

It’s difficult to categorize this film, as it appears to be a stoner-bro, hippy-dippy love fest for McConaughey on its surface. But the pure, unabashed vulnerability of Moondog gives it unexpected (and welcome) heart. If you’re willing to allow yourself to get on board with Korine’s brazen, often aggressively explicit direction, you’ll almost certainly surf the delightful wave of sweetness that McConaughey naturally delivers.

Many of the endless youth themes Spring Breakers attempted (and ultimately failed) to explore are all fleshed out and mostly realized in The Beach Bum. It’s as if this is Korine’s attempt to show us what his previous film would have looked like with a heavy dose of heart, sunshine and L-O-V-E. Indeed, it’s love that tethers the characters together despite numerous outlandish, illegal and sometimes amoral adventures, and it’s love that anchors the film throughout.

I thought I’d come out of this one with a sigh and an eye roll, but instead, I left surprisingly cheerful and grinning, feeling like a sunburned idiot. My advice: If your heady winter brain needs a big dose of vitamin D, put on your boldest floral prints, grab a beer (or three) and head to the theater for some truly delightful brain candy.