"with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."
Eons ago, at the dinky waterpark in my hometown, much like other dinky and perhaps even medium to large sized waterparks, there was a "wavepool" where these big ass underwater machines would generate some sort of force to push water forward and create artificial waves for people to ride innertubes over and do whatever other shit people do at waterparks. They had these like floating rope buoy things close to where the machines were to keep people from getting too close, along with it being in a separate room with a metal grate over the entrance to the interior of the machine, but these safety measures inevitably lead to me thinking about what would happen if somebody were to somehow fall into or perhaps get sucked inside one of those machines.
As time continues it's inevitable and inescapable march forward, the feeling is creeping up on me that perhaps the prior cultural wave in question is a 5d hologram generated by corporate marketing jagoffs. Perhaps not "generated", as at one point it may have been a real genuine article, but it has now undoubtedly been co-opted and consumed by capital to create an insecurity or fear of missing out to sell us shit we don't need, and sometimes shit that even actively harms us. I myself am not immune to this propaganda.
Although, according to the comment section on every Project X youtube video, people did go to crazy parties (somewhat) comparable to Project X, and I mean do you think people would just go on the internet and tell lies?. I did a little bit of partying when I was in college, but the ever elusive "complete and utter rager" eluded and continues to elude my grasp. The good ending in my life now would probably be to never pick up a drink ever again let alone get completely white girl wasted, but I've yet to completely internalize that in my mind. It feels somewhat asinine to grieve things that were clearly bad fucking ideas, and even more silly to become wistful and sentimental because of this particular dumbass movie, yet this is the situation I currently find myself in. Nostalgia for self destruction is a fucked up feeling.
I feel like with a lot of these "reviews" I end up just sort of taking my stick and poking at the corpse of an idea without ever really bringing these ideas to any sort of conclusion. I don't think this review will be the first to buck that particular trend either. It's interesting to me that i like stories with a clear sort of arc and like a point or message or journey, but I also know real life does not operate under these principals, and this makes me feel a sort of dissonance i can't quite explain yet, although I sure am trying.
If nothing else, Project X is a genuine cultural artifact, completely encapsulating the vibe of the early 2010's. At least encapsulating what I viewed aspirationally at the time. It all seems really juvenile now, but to it's credit these are supposed to be high school age kids in this movie. Sometimes juvenile shit still hits though, maybe there's a greater truth there than I give it credit for. One of my hobbies is the proliferation of dick and fart jokes, and i feel if one day i woke up and suddenly these things were not funny to me it would leave a massive hole in my identity i'm not sure how i would cover up. The difference between nurturing your inner child and straight immaturity is a fine line, it appears.
The worst part about this movie bringing up feelings of lost or wasted youth in me is that i'm not even that old yet. I still have time to do all sorts of shit, but the things i used to do, I now can no longer do and i'm struggling with that loss, even if it is shit that i'm better off not doing. The lions share of my drinking career wasn't even done in party settings, it was done in my room completely alone to forget about how shit and hopeless my situation at the time was. I loved to drink and then play a game or watch movies because i would become so engrossed in the world or story that i would literally just dissociate and not think about having to be myself. Years removed from this period, this chemically aided escapism now feels more like a slow suicide. My biggest coping mechanism completely fell the fuck out from under me.
While the fact that this movie about getting wasted and chasing ass gives me an existential crisis sucks, the dialog in this movie is hella funny in a very 15 year old boy who has just seen superbad type of way, and the found footage faux documentary style of this movie fucking rips. It feels like war footage, like you're really in the trenches out there. The misoginistic male gaze type of shit in this movie definitely sucks and people are definitely flattened and maybe made more cruel than i'd like to think they would be in real life probably just for like simplicities sake or whatever. It's also very weird to me that this movie paints this party as like a good thing when they completely fuck that house and like the entire block which god knows how much that shit would cost in real life, and it kind of downplays the fact that thomas was convicted on charges and has to pay for all that bullshit. It's just weird to me how much the consequences of this entire thing are sort of brushed aside at the end of the movie.
Partying is cool and important for your mental health, but at my age that now looks like non alcoholic beers, the cbd pen, and irradiating my eyeballs looking at fl studio. remember kids, it's a marathon, not a sprint. Party sustainably.