The Rum Diary

Directed by: Bruce Robinson

Written by: Bruce Robinson (screenplay); Hunter S. Thompson (novel)










Before he became famous for his "gonzo" journalism, Hunter S. Thompson wanted to be the next F. Scott Fitzgerald.  His first and only novel "The Rum Dairy" has floated around for many years, waiting to be adapted into a film.  Thanks to the spearheading work of Johnny Depp, it finally got made (for better or for worse).

To simplify the plot: Paul Kemp (Depp) arrives in Puerto Rico as an aspiring journalist.  Massive amounts of alcohol are consumed, as well as some drugs, and general anarchy ensues.  (There's also a conflict involving Aaron Eckhart and his girlfriend, but it's basically just filler.)

In all honesty, "The Rum Diary" was not great material to begin with, and there wasn't a whole lot that could have been done to salvage this bomb.  I love Hunter S. Thompson, but fiction was not his strength.

Giovanni Ribisi's performance is one of the few highlights of the film.  I'd almost say that the film is worth seeing just for him.  But it's not.

Unfortunately, "The Rum Diary" is the type of movie in which all the best clips are thrown at you in the trailer.  There simply isn't a whole lot driving this film forward.  It meanders.  It wobbles.  The talent in the film - Depp, Eckhart, etc - don't shine in their usual way.

I hate to say it, but "The Rum Diary" simply fizzled.

Gonzo: The Life of Hunter S. Thompson

An Oral Biography by Jann S. Wenner and Corey Seymour (2007).

Jann S. Wenner, founder and publisher of Rolling Stone, explains in the foreword that this book is basically an extension of the magazine’s tribute to Hunter Thompson after his death. That issue (if you were lucky enough, like me, to grab a copy) was almost completely dedicated to personal reflections from friends and celebrities on the giddy highs and violent lows that defined Hunter Thompson. This book completes that issue in the way that a great bonus disc can complete a great DVD set.

The book is broken apart into many vignettes about Thompson, told in the first-person, by those who were with him. The stories themselves are organized foremost by chronology, and then sub-divided by themes. The contributors consist of people from many aspects of his life, ranging from his childhood friends and neighbors, to his editors and celebrity friends. The stories also range from describing the wild, public side of Thompson, to his more private – almost sensitive – personal side.

Considering that Thompson’s favorite subject was, in many ways, himself, I was surprised to learn so much more about him than I had previously known. Parts of his life which had previously been out of focus, such as his childhood, became much more illuminated. Of course, it was also funny to read some stories that are already legendary – such as his crippling inability to meet a deadline and his superhuman tolerance for alcohol.

This last aspect, though, is also part of the book’s weakness. A few too many of the stories are re-hashes of prior stories, and the same story is sometimes even repeated a few times within this tome. At a few points, it drags on interminably, almost without aim, but yet, at other points, entire decades nearly vanish without comment. Too much time, I feel, is spent on details that did not change or add any meaning to what is already known. Surprisingly (though pleasantly), there is no lengthy discussion of his literary legacy or impact on writing – the book merely ends after his death.

It is hard to give a blanket recommendation for this book. If you have no idea who Thompson is, “Gonzo” is not the place to start. But, if you are already a Thompson fanatic, this book does not add much to his mystique either. I enjoyed this book merely as a reminder of a great writer – a man with so much control over his words – who could have been so much more, if only he had been able to control other parts of his life as well.

The Joke's Over

A few days ago, I finished reading Ralph Steadman's book "The Joke's Over." The 2006 book is a memoir of sorts, chronicling Steadman's professional and personal relationship with the late writer Hunter S. Thompson.

The book begins very slowly and seemed very disappointing at first. Essentially, the first chapter discusses how Steadman and Thompson were first assigned to each other and met for their first assignment at the 1970 Kentucky Derby. This was disappointing because this meeting and event was already covered by Thompson in the article "The Kentucky Derby Is Decadent and Depraved."

But after that, Steadman's narrative changes a bit and focuses more on telling anecdotal stories about times he spent with Thompson, filming documentaries or preparing books together. Steadman's book seems like a "Behind-the-Scenes" feature or "Collaborator's Commentary" to Thompson's writings. Steadman gives us a bit more context and material to consider, clarifying much of what was distorted in Thompson's articles (or, perhaps, considering Steadman's art, distorting them further).

Although Thompson usually presented himself as an invincible embodiment of freedom and masculinity, Steadman's book shows Thompson as being much more human and fallible. There is an extensive section which discuss his painful attempts to write about the Honolulu Marathon, which eventually lead to his personal and internal struggles trying to complete "The Curse of Lono." Although Steadman and Thompson were collaborators on the Lono book, Steadman makes it clear that Thompson made it a difficult book to complete, and strained their relationship. Although their personal relationship continued until Thompson's suicide in 2005, it is clear that their professional collaborations essentially ended after the Lono experiment.

Steadman's book on Thompson is weakened mainly by the fact that, in all truth, their work and time spent together was relatively limited, and that their collaborations were often just one of many projects Steadman on which Steadman was working. Significant portions of the book are spent discussing his other projects and events only tangentially related to Thompson. Which would be fine, except the book was clearly marketed (even to the point of the subtitle: "Bruised Memories: Gonzo, Hunter S. Thompson, and Me) as being about Steadman's work with the late writer.

It is evident, from reading, though, that Steadman was not, in any way, trying to leech off Thompson's death or to profit from his pain. His tone, when writing of Thompson, is usually tender and kind, and occasionally bittersweet. He is reflecting upon the life of a unique man, with whom he worked regularly. And, put simply, it is often touching.

Lastly, I want to share one passage of the book which particularly struck me. It comes from Steadman's journal of their time in Hawaii, working on the Lono book. They have visited a ancient Hawaiian sacred temple, and decided not to disturb it (except to take a quick picture).

"The most important thing about being in the City of Refuge is simply that you are there, steeped in the blackness and fanned by the waving palms, surrounded by stories far, more significant than ours. They are stories that speak with authority, tried and tested and passed down from father to son and mother to daughter. We had no story to tell there. There are no stories to tell gods. They know them all. We need only to listen and look. Their stories are everywhere. Carved grimacing faces shout truths that never change and stand as irrefutable proof of what no longer survives outside this sacred place." (222)

That may have been Thompson's problem all along...