The Beach Bum

Where does one go as an artist after shoot­ing a film about socio­path­ic geri­atrics, or birthing the image of a corn­row-sport­ing James Fran­co fel­lat­ing a pis­tol? Har­mo­ny Korine, the Unit­ed States’ pre­em­i­nent chron­i­cler of bad taste, has tak­en some time off to pon­der this conun­drum. Sev­en years after Spring Break­ers gave us sweet­heart Sele­na Gomez play­ing a col­lege-age gang­banger, his lat­est ram­ble down to the Flori­da Keys refash­ions anoth­er Amer­i­can all-star in Korine’s warped image: this time it’s Matthew McConaugh­ey who plays a leath­ery pseu­do-nomad by the name of Moondog.

In the open­ing scenes of Korine’s 1997 direc­to­r­i­al debut, Gum­mo, a teenage boy drowns a yowl­ing black cat in a bar­rel of water; 22 years lat­er, The Beach Bum starts with Moon­dog hap­pen­ing across a small, impos­si­bly cute white kit­ten, who he prompt­ly adopts and dubs ​‘Angel Pussy’. Per­haps Korine has mel­lowed in the two decades since his first fea­ture, which was an angry, vaude­vil­lian descent into madness.

Cer­tain­ly the sun-drenched spec­ta­cle of south­ern Flori­da feels more mel­low than it did last time Korine vis­it­ed, when it was scored by Skrillex and pop­u­lat­ed by gun-tot­ing girls in pink bal­a­clavas. In 2019, the Flori­da Keys are a play­ground for McConaughey’s sham­bling, ram­bling poet – Bob Dylan with a captain’s hat and a pen­chant for pink fluffy robes.

And who bet­ter to play a weirdo unhemmed from society’s expec­ta­tions that McConaugh­ey, that good ol’ Tex­an boy who made his name in Richard Linklater’s Dazed and Con­fused as the sim­i­lar­ly aim­less David Wood­er­son? Moon­dog feels like a nat­ur­al pro­gres­sion, and his per­for­mance is stripped of any pre­tence or inhi­bi­tions, always enter­tain­ing and infi­nite­ly watch­able – quite pos­si­bly McConaugh­ey at his zenith, whether he’s game­ly smok­ing a joint from between toes of his wife Min­nie (Isla Fish­er), or preach­ing poet­ry as he drifts out to sea in a lifeboat with Angel Pussy.

Moondog’s hedo­nis­tic lifestyle is fund­ed by Min­nie, while his teenage daugh­ter Heather (Ste­fa­nia LaVie Owen) looks on in scant dis­ap­proval. His fam­i­ly gen­tly chide Moon­dog for not fin­ish­ing his new book, as does Moondog’s agent Lewis (Jon­ah Hill in anoth­er scene-steal­ing sup­port­ing role). But rebel­lious Moon­dog refus­es to be cowed by, like, soci­ety, man, instead opt­ing to hang out with his good bud­dies Lin­gerie (Snoop Dog) and Jim­my Buf­fet, smok­ing pot and wom­an­is­ing, liv­ing the life of a Florid­i­an leg­end in all its tacky glory.

It’s only when tragedy strikes that Moondog’s way of life is threat­ened, although he reacts to the sug­ges­tion that he might final­ly have to grow up with utter increduli­ty, instead opt­ing to befriend local pyro­ma­ni­ac Flick­er (Zac Efron, sport­ing the best hair­cut and beard com­bi­na­tion of the year). As is Korine’s trade­mark, the film is filled with delight­ful odd­balls – anoth­er high­light is Mar­tin Lawrence’s Cap­tain Wack, a local dol­phin tour guide.

The best scenes in the film see Moon­dog just hang­ing out with his pals, whether it’s Flick­er bounc­ing around a hotel room to Creed’s ​‘High­er’ or Cap­tain Wack proud­ly not­ing he’s only caused four deaths in eight years of dol­phin tour­ing. The plot of The Beach Bum is inci­den­tal. The real joy is the kalei­do­scop­ic fairy tale vibe, as easy and breezy as a hot summer’s day at the beach.