A group of teenage Florida cretins get fed up with one of their members, so they kill him—then brag about it until they are all brought to justice. The story is a true one, but if director Larry Clark were looking for a sequel to his notorious 1995 Kids
he couldn’t have invented a better one, and the film has Clark’s smudgy fingerprints all over it. He pretends to tut-tut and shake his head over America’s lost youth, all the while salivering over their amorality, their smooth, slim bodies, and the pubic hair peeking out from their cutoff jeans (only on the girls, of course). Clark’s fetishistic knack for gritty realism gives the film an unmistakeable prurient charge, but the lost-youth theme is a grope for significance, and these kids are too damn stupid to represent anyone but themselves.