With every twist and turn of Molly Manning Walker's directorial debut, a one-night-stand or drunken exploit gone unexamined becomes that much clearer.One night in my early twenties, I went out drinking with new friends and woke up alone in the hospital. My belongings—a phone and a small purse—were placed in a ziplock bag at the foot of the bed and the clothes on my back were caked in calcified vomit.
Next thing I know, I wake up and a nurse in Looney Tune scrubs is telling me I owe over a thousand dollars for an ambulance I didn’t even call The film opens as three British 16-year-olds—fresh off their secondary school exams—fling themselves onto the shores of Malia, drunk only on freedom, friendship, and fledgling adulthood. When, hours later, they’re literally drunk on the kind of concoctions that practically reek through the screen, it’s the viewers who are plunged beneath the surface of the three’s dynamic. In short: Em is sweet, Skye is not, and Tara is plagued by her virginity. And the former’s taunts about it.
As Tara, McKenna-Bruce delivers a searing, fully realized performance. You’ve either been her, known her, or some variation of both. The ensemble cast, too, quite eerily evokes either the best—or worst—drinking buddies from your youth. Some, you’d happily share your fries with. Others, you’d outright refuse even a soggy cigarette.