Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998)

reviewed by
Michael Redman


When the going gets weird…
Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas
A Film Review By Michael Redman
Copyright 1998 By Michael Redman
*** (out of ****)

"Moderation In All Things" is the unofficial motto of the United States. From our Puritan founding to the doorway of the 21st century, virtue is to be found through clear thinking and clean living. Extravagance is not only imprudent, it's a sin.

There's a different opinion held by some seekers for truth. They believe that to truly see, you must escape the consensus reality overlay imposed by society. They point to the theory that reaching altered states of consciousness is a need hard-wired in the human biology. One of the first inventions of the early nomadic tribes was the discovery that drinking fermented honey resulted in a different reality. Around the same time, they found that ingesting certain plants revealed a new point of view. Children achieve the change by twirling rapidly in circles. Even animals indulge in alcoholic rotten fruit.

Mankind has a long history of shamanistic oracles leading their people through insights gained from drug-induced journeys. Poets, artists and others given to intemperance live on the fringes on society, often shunned by the mainstream, but just as often looked to as a source of insight. Frequently these people are demented, occasionally enlightened and sometimes both.

"The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom," writes William Blake. Journalistic shaman Hunter S. Thompson puts it another way: "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro." It doesn't get any weirder than Las Vegas in the early seventies.

The film is based on his 1971 classic novel of gonzo journalism. Supposedly reporting on an off-road race, Raoul Duke (Johnny Depp) and his attorney Dr. Gonzo (Benicio Del Toro) -- thinly disguised Thompson and associate Oscar "Zeta" Acosta, a noted Chicano lawyer -- are actually in search of the American dream. Loading the trunk of their rented Caddy convertible with every known (and some unknown) drug, they head through the desert for the city of dreams.

Discussing the plot of this movie is pointless. In fact the plot itself is pointless. Thompson's style of writing was to ingest as many mind-altering substances as possible and write about his experiences. That many of those experiences existed only in his head makes it impossible to tell what really happened. And it doesn't matter. This is one man's extremely unique point of view. If you're looking for a coherent storyline, this isn't it.

As Duke and Gonzo stumble through Las Vegas, their vision is wild and incoherent. Lounge lizards morph into real reptiles. The carpet melts and flows up the wall. The noted attorney sits fully clothed in a bathtub filled with water, grapefruit rinds and assorted garbage and waving a 10-inch hunting knife at his friend who is defending himself with a shower curtain.

The film is certainly not for everyone. It's bound for many Worst Of 98 lists and just as likely to turn up on Bests inventories. For the first several minutes, I thought it was remarkably insipid, but then either the film or I changed and it became a ride through the absurd. For the first time in a long while, I found myself laughing out loud in a movie theater. But my companion hated the film.

This may be the most authentic depiction of the hallucinogenic drug experience ever captured on film...or so I've been told. Several of the scenes are accurate and hilarious at the same time. When Gonzo is trapped on a revolving bar moving about one mile per hour and afraid to step off, some of the audience was rolling in laughter while others were walking out.

There is a poignant moment when Thompson gazes west out of his hotel window and talks about the hopes of the hippies who were sure that they could transform America into a land of peace and freedom. He explains that if you look hard enough you can see the high water mark where the wave crested and rolled back. If there is a time of lucid truth in the film, this is it.

It's always a delight when one of Hollywood's pretty boys transforms into a talented actor. Depp is marvelous as Thompson, reeling and darting from wall to wall attempting to escape killer bats. Although he is smaller than the real journalist and comes across as considerably less dangerous than the hulking gun-toting out of control writer, his depiction works.

The other actors are equally up to task. Peppered with cameos by the real Thompson, Ellen Barkin (in a disturbing diner scene), Penn Jillette and many others, the film is a "spot the actor" game. A few episodes don't work. Gary Busey as the cop who pulls Duke over is unimpressive and the scene (one of the few not from the book) turns into a waste of time. The two-hour length could do with a bit of trimming.

The weakest link among the actors is Del Toro. As frantic and irrational as he is, my memory of the book's Dr. Gonzo is as even more menacing and over the top. He's not bad, just not as on-target as possible.

Thompson is the anti-Nancy Reagan: his attitude towards drugs is obviously "Just say yes". It's amazing that this film got made in today's social climate and may die a rapid death at the boxoffice.

When we look back at our historic forefathers, it's tempting to remember them as questing for freedom and forget that they were mostly criminals and outcasts. While I'm not sure I would want Hunter Thompson as a neighbor, he has something to say. If only we could figure out what it is.

(Michael Redman has written this column for 23 years and has seldom had a more disorienting cinematic experience than seeing both "Fear And Loathing" and "Godzilla" in the same evening.)

[This appeared in the 5/28/98 "Bloomington Voice", Bloomington, Indiana. Michael Redman can be contacted at redman@bvoice.com]

-- mailto:redman@bvoice.com This week's film review at http://www.bvoice.com/ Film reviews archive at http://us.imdb.com/M/reviews_by?Michael%20Redman


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