My hero, the good Doctor Hunter S. Thompson. His books have been seminal for countless, taking a look at the underbelly of the rotting American Dream, when it began and through its further degradation. Looking forward to seeing the new film The Rum Diary, based upon the book written by Thompson, would be an understatement. The magic that Johnny Depp captures in Terry Gilliam’s visionary handling of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, is unfortunately not as magical in the hands of filmmaker Bruce Robinson. The film has its great moments, it was somewhat satisfying, but I left wanting much more, expecting much more, but it was perhaps just not meant to be.
Johnny Depp skillfully, almost, effortlessly channels Thompson’s young alter ego Paul Kemp, who heads to Puerto Rico in the late 1950s looking for work as a journalist. Instead of the elegant, vibrato mumbling that Depp summoned in Fear and Loathing, there was a much more contemplative, metrical sophistication coming from Kemp, even through the rum soaked chaos that routinely ensues. This is Hunter finding Raoul Duke in essence, the calm before the maelstrom if you will. This appealed to the journalist side of me, but fell a bit flat, a bit too reserved as someone looking for entertainment. This lack of entertainment in stretches bogged down the film’s pace, which needed to step on the gas like Thompson would.
Deviations from the book are major, leaving out characters, or melding them with others, also straying somewhat from the themes as well, giving the film an almost Hollywood makeover, something I never expected Depp or Robinson would allow to happen. The omission of Yeamon, or the amalgamation of him with Sanderson (he could have been wrapped into Moberg as well) was borderline travesty, as Aaron Eckhart was not up to the task of carrying the weighty, brooding, behemoth like presence Yeamon carries in the book. Again, this is not to say that deviations are always wrong, but characters as important to a book as Yeamon is to The Rum Diary need to clearly be a part of the film.
Unlike the uninspired script, editing, and directing, the performances were inspired, choices were made, and chances were taken to find the souls of these characters Thompson created. Amber Heard as Chenault was just a sparkling visionary choice bringing a strong female presence to an otherwise male dominated world in the film and book. Her beauty was overwhelming, a perfect choice as the vision of Chenault one gets from the book is sensual perfection, a goddess for which the mold has been broken, and Heard delivers the goods. Again, her role could have been so much more as it was in the book, but someone botched it. Giovanni Ribisi is insane as Moberg, a fire breathing, alcohol riddled fiend. He steals nearly every scene he is in, making “strong choices” as they say, holding nothing back and bringing much needed energy and presence to the film. Richard Jenkins as the newspaper editor Lotterman also plays well, giving a nuanced comedic performance that helped the slower, expositional spots. Best of all, other than Depp, may have been Michael Rispoli’s turn as Sala, the grizzled, somewhat shepherd for Kemp in his learning of the ropes in San Juan. His delivery firmly carried the weight of Thompson’s words through his tone and pacing, delivering whatever the scene called for impeccably.
The underwhelming product that came forth from Robinson was a disappointment, as his previous work on films like the classic Withnail and I suggested he would do well with the subject matter, but both the script and overall thrust of the film, his responsibility as writer and director, were lacking. Even if these poor decisions came from producers up on high (a lot of them smell like it), he should have stood his ground simply out of respect for Thompson’s book and his own integrity as an artist. This could have been as potent and entertaining as Fear and Loathing, but it unfortunately falls a bit flat, a bit short, and a bit too safely, which may lead to better numbers at the box office but mildly disenchants HST fans. Perhaps those without the lens through which I see HST and his work will find the film to be of higher quality. Check it out for yourself though as I will still see it again because the Depp is great, its cold as hell here in Brooklyn and the tropical setting as well as the atmosphere created by Robinson whisk you away, all while HST’s words still capture a distinct moment in time like no other, illuminating much about our society today and the challenges it faces.
You can check out the film at various theaters around Tucson, with my favorite being the Century Park Place Mall 20. If you are interested in receiving these article directly as they are published, click the "Subscribe" button at the top of the article. You can also check me out on Twitter by clicking the tabs above and below the article and by checking out my new website ericshlpack.com where film and other issues are looked at from a fresh perspective.
For more info:
The Rum Diary
FilmDistrict
Hunter S. Thompson
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