A teenage girl with nothing to lose joins a traveling magazine sales crew, and gets caught up in a whirlwind of hard partying, law bending and young love as she criss-crosses the Midwest with a band of misfits.
Upon re-watching American Honey, I came to the realization that it's my second favorite film of all-time -- just behind Mommy, the most personal narrative that I've ever experienced in the realm of cinema, and just ahead of Beasts of the Southern Wild, the film that I saw a few weeks following my father's death, and the piece of art that almost singlehandedly got me through the period of grief following his passing. My only complaint about American Honey is that its sprawling 163 minute runtime isn't three or so hours longer, clocking it at something like 330-360 minutes.
I never wanted it to end; I want to live inside this film. I almost wish that certified queen of cinema, Andrea Arnold, would pull a Zac Snyder and release some sort of Ultimate Cut, but I know that's not going to happen, so I guess I'll just have to settle for re-watching it and re-watching it, on repeat, for days on end, until I notice that I haven't eaten or drunk anything in approximately a week, and that my body has been reduced to a skeletal state.
And then I'd probably just say fuck it to nutrients and watch it again, because it's the last construction of images that I'd want to see before being reunited with my father again anyway.