Exactly
eight years ago, one of America’s ‘mad’ journalists took a shotgun and blew up
his head. Born Hunter Stockton Thompson, he is a man who lived by the gun and
died by it. Not in the metaphorical sense of bursting into banks and robbing
clients and killing them in the spree. No. He was not a felon in that literal
sense but his mannerisms befitted that of a naughty social deviant beyond
reproach. Not from his editors or even colleagues. He was, in fact, what
Italians call menefreghista. One who
does not give a fuck.
Thompson’s addiction for shooting
guns and weaponry collection magnified his cantankerous demeanor in the field
of New Journalism that he became a part of. Christened ‘The Gang That Wouldn’t
Write Straight’ alongside illustrious literary journalists such as Truman
Capote of ‘In Cold Blood’ and Tom Wolfe among others, Thompson was rogue from
the word go. He is credited for starting
Gonzo Journalism after writing piece called ‘The Kentucky Derby Is Decadent and
Depraved.’
Gonzo Journalism normally lacks objectivity
and is characteristic of expletives, exaggeration – and for a man like
Thompson- with his entire time spent smoking and inhaling all manner of drugs known
to man- first person narration ensured he indulged himself into his stories
until they nearly sounded true.
Movie.
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. The
name partly reveals what Hunter Thompson met in Las Vegas. And with the saying
‘What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas’, it is easier said than done. Thompson
went ahead and wrote about ‘what happened’ in Vegas and the movie is based on
his book by the same title.
On the left is Dr. Gonzo and Raoul Duke.
The movie stars Johnny Depp as Raoul
Duke suspected to be an author surrogate for Thompson and Benicio Del Toro as
Dr. Gonzo who are seen speeding along the Highway of Nevada desert high as the
sky. Duke has an assignment to write a story about the Mint 400 motorcycle race
in Las Vegas and it’s a race against time. All this while, he is intoxicated
with mescaline and his altered mind, therefore, makes him see a swarm of bats
eager to obstruct his view as he drives.
The trunk of their red Cadillac
Convertible shows cache of different drugs meant to sustain them. Mescaline,
cocaine, amphetamines and ‘a whole galaxy of…downers, screamers, laughers….
(Plus) two dozen amyls’ as narrated by Johnny Depp on the background. The
ground is set for a high octane moment of two drugged beings – one tasked with
writing a story for a magazine.
When Duke and Dr. Gonzo arrive at a
hotel bracing for the following day’s motorcycle event, hallucinations take
better of him and he now sees fellow patrons as some reptiles. Cringe! The day
finally comes and Duke stands by the terraces to watch as the motorcyclists are
flagged off for the race. It eventually turns dusty with the narrator doubting
any conventional coverage of the event. Later, Duke’s photographer - Lacerda
calls him to a vehicle from the where the latter can observe the race and take
pictures. Assuming they are in a warzone (Blame it on drugs), Duke relieves
Lacerda of his duties and jumps off the vehicle to chart his next course of
action.
Deranged by a turbulent personality,
Duke returns to the hotel and together with his partner in drugs; consume more
mescaline and diethyl ether to maintain their stupor before heading to a
casino. At the casino things do not turn out well because Dr. Gonzo becomes
bored and they return to their room. Here Gonzo consumes a full sheet of LSD
and throws himself in a bathtub mumbling and grumbling.
At one point, an introspective Duke
remarks through the voice of the narrator: “One of things you learn after years
of dealing with drug people is that you can turn you back on a person but never
turn your back on a drug.” He departs his friend, Dr. Gonzo from the room with
an excuse that he is headed to the car wash.
Another haunting voice interrogates him: “What is the meaning of this
trip.” He wonders if it is all about drugs frenzy or covering a story.
Duke admits later. “Clearly I was a
victim of the drug explosion. A natural street freak.” After inhaling and
sniffing other drugs and even blacking out and ‘resurrecting’, he is seen hunched
by his typewriter typing. Trying to makes sense out of the catatonic chaos.
He later escorts his friend Dr.
Gonzo to the airport this time promising him if he falls into trouble, there is
always a telegram. Duke races back to the hotel to finish his story. If no
drugs comes his way that is.
Shot
in 1998, this movie running for almost two hours is a daring sprint on the
edges of a cracked cliff of drug binge by one of America’s most celebrated
rogue journalist who emulated Ernest Hemingway to the core. February being a
month of love, Hunter S. Thompson is the genius junkie to proffer a flower.
That is by getting ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’ and watching it raw.
No comments:
Post a Comment