Sometimes, I feel that Larry Clark is always making the same film. And I say this not in a bad way. But like with painters, for instance. Like we get the feeling that some painters are actually painting the same thing, like they are aiming for transcendence, or the contrary of transcendence. They want to be in touch with themselves. They want to, more and more, be able to address and express what it all is about.
I like Marfa Girl. I wasn't liking it very much until I suddenly realized I liked and even admired it. It is earnest, it is locally universal, and I find Clark's manner of leering increasingly charming. I even like the (to put it generously) "unschooled" performers. I assume Clark went to Marfa and figured: why not see if I can build a movie out of almost nothing here? And then he did. Well, why not?
Characters regularly go off on only tangentially relevant monologues about whatever topic may be on their minds, from sexual liberation and the art of cunnilingus to abusive dads, cosmic energy. body art or immigration policy. While the presumably improvised script contains some lines these characters could plausibly utter, just as often it slows the film down, to the point of grinding it almost completely to a halt.