Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas
Terry Gilliamās 1998 work (based on the seminal book by Hunter S. Thompson) is in many ways the definition of a cult movie: Ignored upon its original theatrical release (and squashed by the Godzilla remake that weekend), it eventually gained through word of mouth and the home video / DVD market an absolutely HUGE following, leading to a Criterion release and permanent acclaim as probably the definitive adaptation of any major novel, ever. Certainly Gilliam as director demonstrates more visually creative flair in the first five minutes than most directors do in their whole career, and that inventiveness continues throughout the whole film, making it a visual feast for the eyes in almost every detail, right down to the absolute best usage of extras (or ābackground artistsā as it were) ever seen in a major movie, for when one looks around in the background (particularly during the Circus Casino sequence), thereās ALWAYS something very interesting going on. On the surface (especially to certain people), the film might strike some as a big budget, A-list Cheech and Chong-style film, with its two main characters using and abusing a never ending supply of drugs for comedic effect (though certainly it never falls into the niche of either a straight up comedy or straight up drama either) while tooling up and down the Vegas strip, however the deeper meaning of Thompsonās book shines through just as boldly in the movie: that Vegas is but a metaphor for the (still ongoing) destruction of the American Dream and way of life, as people continue to become mindless consumer zombies pouring their hard-earned dollars into various moneymaking machines hoping to find some faint sense of fulfillment. All of this would be irrelevant without its two lead actors: Johnny Depp as Thompson (aka Raoul Duke) literally becomes the epitome of the real life man so much so that we are actually taken aback when he encounters the real Thompson (in a cameo) and realizes that he is seeing an older version of himself, while Benicio Del Toro as his Samoan attorney Dr. Gonzo (in reality Oscar Zeta Accosta, a famed Latino civil rights activist and lawyer who was notorious for his insane party binges) is unlike any other role or persona Del Toro has taken on in film or real life, as he reportedly gained 40 lbs for the role and is completely convincing as a crazed, drug-fueled Wildman, going above and beyond into the depths of being disturbing yet sympathetic. The plot (what there is) concerns Thompson receiving an assignment (from Sports Illustrated) to cover the Mint 400, a desert-wide Motocross event / endurance contest, and growing bored with that, doing a wide variety of narcotics and cruising through Vegas with his loyal attorney at his side in order to find and report on something much deeper than a bike race, that being the flashy allure of the brightly lit casinos on the strip and how itās really a boulevard of broken dreams whist encountering a number of different characters who can best be described as lost souls themselves (and played by a slew of cameoing major stars) such as Tobey Maguireās naĆÆve hitchhiker, Ellen Barkinās burnt-out diner waitress, Mark Harmonās jaded magazine reporter, Christina Ricciās underage runaway, and even Gary Buseyās twisted yet lonely highway patrolman, plus many more who pop up here and there. It all adds up to a visually sumptuous, yet depressing and moving, paean to whatās wrong with our world, with enough laughs, chuckles, and smiles that makes a viewer think of these two guys like old friends on repeat viewings, and have no doubt that Gilliam (known to many as a problematic director at best) was THE perfect choice to direct this film and understood what needed to be done down to the very last frame, so much so that, stoned or not, this is one of the most brilliant pieces of cinematic work to come out of the 20th century, ironic because it was made two years before it endedā¦
10/10