Harmony Korine, to those who are not familiar with the name, is an eccentric, independent film maker who has written and produced some of the most engaging films of the 1990s. I also look up to him enormously, as he was just my age when he wrote one my favourite films of all time – the 1995 wake up call to the world, Kids.
After the success of Kids Korine then went on to write and direct a stream of artsy yet highly controversial films, such as Ken Park, Julien Donkey-Boy and his directoral debut Gummo. Some called his films an ‘unintelligable mess’ others, notably film maker Gus Van Sant praised his work. But like it or loathe it Korine’s voice as a film maker was being heard.
Korine is, much like his films, a living, breathing art installation. A piercingly beautiful, commandingly funny, ugly self-indulgent mess, who has helped to sculpt a dead art form into an 8mm masterpiece unto which is his filmography. Despite a sharp decline from mainstream culture since the early days of Kids and the vignette dream that was Gummo Harmony will always have a place within the matrix of cinematography. Defined as a white trash Tarantino his powerfully arresting work echo’s a culture of real filmmaking that this decade has forgotten.