A montage of tits (yea, I said it), pink balaclavas, bikinis and James Franco with cornrows. I felt all the right things; disgust and repulsion, amusement then a stream of anxiety kicked it. But there was this dull sensation of admiration. They pretty much did whatever the fuck they wanted, it's Spring Break mthafkrs! Actions going ultimately without any consequence, four girls showing a lot of teen flesh hanging out with a gold teethed gangster doing bad things. A film about living in the moment, however the fk you want to. If you want to go home ... then go ... your story will end and you are forgotten. Hop on a bus and shed some tears, or you can stay ... Spring Breaaaaaak.