Film Study: "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas"

The Trippiest Trip You've ever Tripped out on.

I have never really gotten into the works or the man of Hunter S. Thompson, namely because I know nothing of or have not seen anything from him.  I have been told repeatedly, however, to watch probably his most famous adaptation work, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.  Directed by Terry Gillium, of course, the film has its greats and its overwhelming lows.  The film is a cult hit, and one can obviously see why.  After seeing it, it is near impossible to really decide how I feel about it.

The film begins with a delving pummel right into the mind of Raoul Duke and, indirectly, Thompson himself and, more directly, Gillium himself.  Beginning with the infamous scene of a drug induced bat attack, the men are speeding down a road, high on a cornucopia of substances, with absolutely no regard for anything.  The film is shot with a mind-altering deep focus and mellow and bright color contrasts from here on out, making the desert seem like an empty, unknown, and horrible wasteland and Las Vegas into an empty, unknown, horrible wasteland.  The look and style of this film is something I can appreciate if it is done right.  I was reminded throughout of Natural Born Killers, a film I cannot stand.  This film, of similar style and, with clear exceptions, is similar in tone.  I like this film, however, for one reason.  This film is trying to say something, and fails.  Normally I dislike that.  In the case of NBK, the director Oliver Stone tries to say so much, and fails so miserably at it.  What he is trying to say never comes across well, and with no discernable point.  This film is showing us a story of two men that take away from society and give nothing back to it except as examples to use for future reference.   Their story is as interesting as any I’ve seen in a while and I laughed as much as I have at any comedy.   The films funniest part comes when it begins, at several instances in the film, notably at the end whenever the men are in the hotel room and Gonzo is giving Duke a new drug, to try and say something, sow a realm of thought together, only to tear it down by some messed up sequence of drug induced psychosis.   The film is literally pointless, yet makes you think it does, and to enjoy the film you have to realize that.  It deals with only one, as the book subtitle says, about “a savage journey to the heart of the American dream.”  This so called dream is, well, anything but.  The film explores it, albeit through an acid trip.

The finest aspect of the film is clearly the performances by Johnny Depp and Benici o Del Toro, playing Raoul Duke and Dr. Gonzo, respectively.   The lines written here are great, but not without the delivery of Depp the narrator and Del Toro the constant set-up.  You entirely can believe the relationship between these two men, they are friends, though I have no idea why, as neither one eve serves to benefit the other.  The direction is definitely Gillium, and the writing is Thompson inspired, though I picture the literary from being much more biting.  I have never been a fan of Gillium, and he isn’t the reason I like this film.  He is noticeable here, just a bit too noticeable.  He drowns any humor the movie has by trying to overshadow the writing and acting with his direction.  He tries to let the visuals capture Thompson’s world instead of letting Thompson’s words, the heart of the world, do it. Much of the film is obviously owed to Thompson or Depp, the original source material or the man who brought the character to life, if that’s what you want to call it.

 

The film definitely has its flaws, though they kind of make the film enjoyable.  It is absolutely ludicrous, and at times annoying.  Overall though, I just think the film isn’t for me.  It is a drug induced hallucination with some sort of a story that is never developed.  The finest scene, or small part, is the memory Duke has of being the diner and the waitress across from them.  This is this first time in the film they encounter someone who they affect in a real way.  They experience a rare movement of slowness.  After his sidekick basically threatens the woman, they leave her stunned.  Duke is leaving, taking the plate, before sitting it down.  I’m not sure if this is out of pity or laziness, but something here, in this few seconds, is human.  Then a smash cut to a fast ride to an airport, and Gillium is back to suffocating any thought this film could have.  I love that scene though.

It seems you either love this film or hate it.  I liked it.  It paints a picture of an American Nightmare instead of an American Dream, and does so with awkwardly endearing humor.  You don’t want to like Raoul Duke, but for some reason you do.  Or, well, maybe not.