FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS ( rating, * * ½ out of 5 )
This eccentric piece of cinema is based on the book of the same name penned by Hunter S. Thompson. Thompson is a strange and somewhat scary individual who was prominent during the beat years of American literary history - famous more for his broadminded views on high-powered firearms in the hands of Johnny Punch-Clock than his bookish achievements.
Johnny Depp plays Raoul Duke, a thinly disguised Hunter S. Thompson duplicate who along with Dr Gonzo (Benicio Del Toro) tear up Death Valley in a red convertible while wasting away on a cocktail of drugs that would have supplied Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison with a lifetime inventory.
These two madmen stuff every conceivable concoction of narcotic down their throats - their bloodstreams being invaded with more stimulants than the Chinese Olympic swimming team. Raoul and Dr Gonzo's adventures straddle the very funny and the very grotesque - a reckless humor more uncomfortable than satisfying.
There is no true linear story here, just a long weekend of trashing Vegas hotel rooms while trying to define America's pop culture - a last ditch attempt at freedom as compliance closes in.
This is not what you call a pleasant or viewer-friendly movie, and definitely not one for the wholesome family to watch together while chomping on microwave popcorn. The fast jump-cutting and psychedelic production-design could easily produce an epileptic fit. There were moments through this cinema experience when I wasn't sure if I was watching a movie starring Johnny Depp, or if I had a front row seat at a Doors' concert.
This film is all about shades of grey, because seeing is not always believing, just ask the blind man, the one who really sees all. Behind the pot-pourri of opiates and chemical bias, there's a lot of self-examination in this movie, self-examination that isn't always flattering.
Through the use of extended voice-over, director Terry Gilliam is almost able to convey true empathy via the weirdness and to add an introspective layer that ties the whole piece together - success rate about 50/50. This is not a great movie, but it should be given marks for daring to tread where only the very brave have ventured before.
This eccentric piece of cinema is based on the book of the same name penned by Hunter S. Thompson. Thompson is a strange and somewhat scary individual who was prominent during the beat years of American literary history - famous more for his broadminded views on high-powered firearms in the hands of Johnny Punch-Clock than his bookish achievements.
Johnny Depp plays Raoul Duke, a thinly disguised Hunter S. Thompson duplicate who along with Dr Gonzo (Benicio Del Toro) tear up Death Valley in a red convertible while wasting away on a cocktail of drugs that would have supplied Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison with a lifetime inventory.
These two madmen stuff every conceivable concoction of narcotic down their throats - their bloodstreams being invaded with more stimulants than the Chinese Olympic swimming team. Raoul and Dr Gonzo's adventures straddle the very funny and the very grotesque - a reckless humor more uncomfortable than satisfying.
There is no true linear story here, just a long weekend of trashing Vegas hotel rooms while trying to define America's pop culture - a last ditch attempt at freedom as compliance closes in.
This is not what you call a pleasant or viewer-friendly movie, and definitely not one for the wholesome family to watch together while chomping on microwave popcorn. The fast jump-cutting and psychedelic production-design could easily produce an epileptic fit. There were moments through this cinema experience when I wasn't sure if I was watching a movie starring Johnny Depp, or if I had a front row seat at a Doors' concert.
This film is all about shades of grey, because seeing is not always believing, just ask the blind man, the one who really sees all. Behind the pot-pourri of opiates and chemical bias, there's a lot of self-examination in this movie, self-examination that isn't always flattering.
Through the use of extended voice-over, director Terry Gilliam is almost able to convey true empathy via the weirdness and to add an introspective layer that ties the whole piece together - success rate about 50/50. This is not a great movie, but it should be given marks for daring to tread where only the very brave have ventured before.
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