Doctored Interpretations: "The Rum Diary"

I found Hunter S. Thompson's early novel The Rum Diary (it originated in the 1960s but remained unpublished until 1998) to be beautifully written when I first read it years ago, and while my memories of it are somewhat hazy, I remember thinking that it could be a decent film adaptation. It contains a vibrant locale (1960 San Juan, Puerto Rico in the midst of political turmoil), and a balanced mix of characters and conflicts. Before seeing its adaptation (written and directed by Bruce Robinson), I became worried that it would try to mimic Terry Gilliam's film version of Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas. Yes, the two different books contain vastly different material, but given the cult success of the previous film, and especially since star Johnny Depp again inhabits the lead role, one wouldn't be faulted for expecting another attempt at the same hedonistic style. However, The Rum Diary, in addition to being one of Thompson's few available pieces of fiction, is also one of his most straightforward narratives. Fear and Loathing was a successful attempt at visualizing a long drug binge, and Robinson's version of The Rum Diary smartly embraces the storytelling, thereby giving audiences an interpretation of Thompson that remains honest, even if, in this case, the book proves to be more memorable.

After waking up from a night of binge drinking, journalist Paul Kemp (Depp) heads to the office of the San Juan Star, an English language newspaper in the heart of Puerto Rico. The paper is under heavy financial strain, but Kemp is nonetheless offered a job by Lotterman (Richard Jenkins), and he immediately becomes close with the staff photographer Sala (Michael Rispoli) and the often fired/rehired junkie journalist Moberg (Giovanni Ribisi). While working on dead-end assignments (including a memorable scene in which he interviews, off-camera, an American couple who are vacationing in San Juan but refuse to visit any places besides their hotel and the bowling alley), Kemp becomes acquainted with Sanderson (Aaron Eckhart), an American businessman who wants Paul to help write promotional material for (illegal) real estate deals that will eventually drive the locals into even worse poverty. Kemp quickly becomes enamored with Chenault (Amber Heard), Sanderson's fiancee, which adds further complications, especially after Sanderson bails him and Sala out of jail after a reckless night on the town. With the Star on the verge of shutting down, Kemp, Sala and Moberg attempt to bring the shady business dealings to light, even though the paper cannot risk controversial material.




With the exception of his voice, it's refreshing to find that Depp plays Kemp as an original character, rather than as an imitation of Hunter S. Thompson (even though the original novel is semi-autobiographical, it's impossible not to imagine Kemp, both on the page and on the screen, as a stand-in for the Doctor). Yes, Kemp is prone to heavy drinking and a commitment to journalistic integrity, and much like Thompson, he manages to be a detached outsider even when he's in the middle of the most important scenes. Only at the end of the film do Thompson's characteristics become consistently noticeable, and even then, Depp is as reserved as an actor can be, with the actions being based on the plot developments, rather than the character's personality. It would be too tempting to see Sala as the Dr. Gonzo character, but this only comes after a brief drug hallucination scene (the only blatant reference to Fear and Loathing) and after a long sequence of a drunken night out. Sala is written as a stock "buddy" character, but Michael Rispoli plays him exceptionally well, employing equal parts integrity and comic relief without being terribly obvious. At first, I found Giovanni Ribisi's Moberg to be grating, but I quickly realized that the character is supposed to be annoying. Moberg, while technically a journalist, is seen walking around the island like a vagrant, dressed in a comically over-sized trench coat, producing dangerous moonshine and drugs, and happily blaring phonograph records of Adolf Hitler speeches. I always consistently notice film characters who would be terribly hammed up by certain actors, but Ribisi manages to create an air of perverted slapstick. Eckhart has an strange ability to play seriously flawed/demented characters yet maintain a seductive edge; even when the audience knows he's being conniving or wrong, it's easy to see why characters would fall for his schemes. Sanderson is not nearly as twisted as Chad in In the Company Of Men, but Eckhart uses the same acting gifts. For better or for worse, his unsavory characters are compelling. That's the whole point.



The relationship between Chenault and Kemp is very basic and provides some of the film's faults. It's hard to tell if Heard is a good actress, because her character is, for the majority of the film, nothing but a trophy fiancee for Sanderson. The sexual tension between her and Kemp isn't exactly sly (their first meeting is in the ocean while she's skinny dipping), but their long stares and near-physical interactions become too obvious, and the audience is merely left counting down the seconds until they actually embrace. After that, the film's closing title sequences are too easy of an ending. However, Heard does what she can with Chenault. Even though she's an object for everyone but Kemp, the character is not played as dumb or insulting; she's merely tied to her relationship with Sanderson before she's able to break away. Depp and Heard are enjoyable to watch together, but are victimized by the script's occasional misstep.

A lot of credit has to be given to production designer Chris Seagers. The San Juan settings, especially given the era, doesn't have a lot of happy mediums. The locales are either poverty-stricken or tastefully wealthy (Kemp, Sala, and Moberg are the only whites to live in destitute dwellings). However, even though both types of settings are integral to the story, they feel authentic. Kemp and Sala's apartment is somewhat comically rendered, but the dive bars, slums, and dance halls of San Juan aren't marked by obvious (read: insulting) indicators of depression. Sanderson's residence is a classy beach house, but isn't depicted as a ridiculous mansion. Combined with the subdued cinematography and costume design, The Rum Diary works as a contrast of bright and dark hues, both casually and intentionally, with a lot of jumps between the two. Even in the extremes (Kemp's apartment, specifically), the exaggerations are pointed out in the script, but Seagers does an impressive job of creating a classic movie feel to the environments.

After leaving behind directing due to disillusionment with the Hollywood system, writer/director Bruce Robinson finds himself with a decent piece of material with which to return. His script is much stronger than his directing, but his directorial style is fairly straightforward in this film. The Rum Diary moves toward expected climaxes and developments, but Robinson writes exceptional dialogue with well-placed one liners and a knack for comedic timing, and the direction moves along with it. Again, some of the developments are cliched and can be seen coming several minutes beforehand, but these are small faults, especially since the majority of the film, combined with the excellent cast, works so well. I've yet to see Withnail and I, lauded as an excellent British black comedy, but The Rum Diary definitely has its moments of dark humor, and it will be interesting to see the differences between his smaller work and this more big budget production. On top of that, Robinson's attention to detail makes some negative aspects--binge drinking, chain-smoking, and even cockfighting--blend together as merely parts of an era, without moralizing or apology.

I would guess that the majority of people who seek out The Rum Diary will be Hunter S. Thompson fans, and I hope that they have read the novel beforehand, lest they be disappointed. Atmospherically, it's very true to Thompson's work, and shows that even his standard storytelling manages to convey his beliefs without the almost trademark insanity. Strange as this is to imagine, the film also works nicely on its own, even for people unfamiliar with Thompson's journalism or fiction. With another other people involved, I might be harsher with the criticism of the film's ending and antagonism. However, the cast and filmmaker do their respective work very convincingly, and overall, it's a lot of fun and beautifully styled. And the best compliment to Thompson is that his ideas can be separated from his constantly portrayed public persona without anything being diminished.

Fear and Loathing, Past and Present

For the past month, I've been reading Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72 in little bursts, and I coincidentally finished it a couple of days before the 2010 midterm elections. Even before completing it, the phrase "dynamic equilibrium" kept popping up in my head. While I'm sure it has been used in social contexts before, my introduction to the idea came in one of my high school physics classes. I very nearly failed the class, but the definition of dynamic equilibrium amazed me at the time in philosophical ways, rather than scientific. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Thompson's book is full of passages that, while discussing names from the past, could very easily apply to today's political landscape. I've read many articles that attempt to pinpoint the moment in which American politics became such a divide between ideologies, dominated by media (both left and right-wing), and left discussions behind in favor of smear campaigns and, for all intents and purposes, name-calling. In harsh reality, it's been that way for a long time.

"No, this would never do. Not for George McGovern--at least not in May of '72, and probably never. He has spent the past week traveling around Nebraska and pausing at every opportunity to explain that he is flatly opposed to the legalization of marijuana. He is also opposed to putting people in prison for mere possession, which he thinks should be re-classified as a misdemeanor instead of a felony.
And even this went down hard in Nebraska. He came into this state with a comfortable lead, and just barely escaped with a six percentage-point (41 percent to 35) win over Hubert Humphrey--who did everything possible, short of making the accusations on his own, to identify McGovern as a Trojan Horse full of dope dealers and abortionists (Thompson 202-203)."

Smear campaigns? Check. Politicians carefully dancing around issues lest they offend every side of said issue? Check. This description of McGovern (the eventual Democratic Presidential candidate in 1972) mirrors that of President Obama. Before taking office, Obama presented many platforms on gay rights and marriage equality; after taking office, I remember watching one of his speeches, and when he was called upon his views on gay marriage, he was almost at a loss for words, coming up with vague comments on equality and domestic partner benefits. I fully believe that President Obama supports gay and lesbian citizens. McGovern apparently didn't demonize marijuana, but in both cases, it's an example of having to be, well, political. With the opposition ready to jump on your every statement, speaking in cliches and non-opinions becomes the norm.

Thompson supported McGovern, and while the 1972 election was criticized for the way journalists and writers placed themselves among the candidates, Thompson never put McGovern on a pedestal. Like any candidate, he had his strengths and weaknesses. However, one gets the feeling that, much like John Kerry in 2004, the Democratic nominee was viewed not as the best candidate, but rather the anti-thesis to to Republican incumbent. The loss aside, Kerry didn't exactly sweep voters off their feet; rather, it was a case of "well, we need somebody besides George W. Bush." Despite the GOP wins this week, perhaps the outlook for Obama will be better in 2012. Will the following statement hold true for him? Every recent President has had his share of scandal or crisis. The problem with the critiques of President Obama is that the criticisms have veered into conspiracy and false accusations. If the economy brightens, perhaps this opinion from Thompson will hold true for a Democratic President.

"Any incumbent President is unbeatable, except in a time of mushrooming national crisis or a scandal so heinous--and with such obvious roots in the White House--as to pose a clear and present danger to the financial security and/or physical safety of millions of voters in every corner of the country (Thompson 466)."



Even before Nixon's re-election, the somber realization was that right-wing ideologies were taking hold in drastic numbers. Some of the passages in Fear and Loathing are extremely prophetic, even in a time before Tea Parties and anti-Obama backlash. Some of the similarities are tame:

"The pervasive sense of gloom among the press/media crowd in Miami was only slightly less obvious than the gung-ho, breast-beating arrogance of the Nixon delegates themselves. That was the real story of the convention: the strident, loutish confidence of the whole GOP machinery, from top to bottom (Thompson 352)."

And some of the similarities are scary, whether looking back or looking ahead:

"Until then, it had not been considered entirely fashionable to go around calling ex-Attorney General John Mitchell a 'prophet' because of his smiling prediction, in the summer of 1970, that 'This country is going so far to the right that you won't recognize it (Thompson 467).'"

These past and present connections are the bulk of what I wanted to present in this post. These may be basic or, if one wanted to be particularly harsh, mere generalizations of party politics. When I looked back at my previous essay on Hunter S. Thompson, I realized that today, just as much as two years ago, he's a difficult writer to truly analyze. He's long been one of my favorites, and as I mentioned before, he's the sort of writer whose image can cloud his actual output. He was opinionated and rarely objective, but he would have been the first one to admit this. But lost (again) in his public image was the fact that he was a brilliant journalist, and his intelligence on his various subjects was unmatched. He described himself as a political junkie, and made the important note that, no matter how one is affiliated with politics or an election, whether as a candidate or a journalist, it brings out the worst in people, sometimes to the breaking point. And really, since all of us are affected by politics, it's one of the few realms in which its impossible to remain emotionally detached. That said, given Thompson's rancor, I would have loved to read his thoughts on Sarah Palin or Rand Paul. I'm sure his opinions on them would have made his views on Richard Nixon seem like a pat on the back.

Work Cited:
Thompson, Hunter S. Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72. Copyright 1973 by Hunter S. Thompson.

Words and Image

In my attempt to eventually finish the Hunter S. Thompson canon (which is roughly halfway finished, give or take a few titles), I recently read Kingdom Of Fear. I had been planning to devote a post to Thompson for quite some time, and as I read the book, this realization struck me: writing about his writing might be very difficult. Someone like Thompson can be so clouded by his/her popular image that the actual output can be lost in the shuffle. This can happen often, depending on the writer. As talented as they were as writers, it's easy to simply visualize Jack Kerouac roaming around the country and F. Scott Fitzgerald throwing his lavish parties. With Hunter S. Thompson, the Raoul Duke/Johnny Depp-popularized mythology can take center stage quite suddenly, overshadowing the talent that made him popular in the first place. It's almost a Catch-22 (another literary idea which overshadows its origins, as Jonathan Franzen mentioned).

As much as I love Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas and The Rum Diary, I prefer reading the many essay collections written by Thompson. For one, it's one of my favorite mediums. Also (I'm sure this has been said numerous times), Thompson was one of the greatest essayists ever, even if the more appropriate term is "journalist." I imagine that non-fiction writing teachers may try to discourage students from the gonzo style--immersing themselves in the article from which they should remain impartially detached. The beauty of Thompson's life (based on his works) is that he had no choice but to be involved in a story. However, no matter how immersed he was, there's always the unspoken understanding (at least in my opinion) that he remained detached. This is even true when he explains the events that led to the "99 Day Trial," in which he could have been convicted of drug possession and sexual assault:

"I had been making cranberry and tequila, because the margarita mix had run out. I was in that kind of mood. Let's all have a few margaritas. And she--the sot--she belted them down. We all did, no doubt; that's what it was all about. Some margaritas to celebrate...We were on about the third jug in the blender, or fourth jug, or fifth perhaps, when we switched to cranberry juice, and she had been getting louder and more randy. She was making open cracks to Cat, asking 'Who are you to Hunter?' She grabbed me and said 'Who's this girl? Why is that other girl here? We don't need her around.'
Shortly after Tim left, I reached for the phone and told the Witness, 'Let's call a goddamn taxi for you.' As I dialed the 'T'--in 925-TAXI--she rushed over, knocking the phone down, and cut me off. It was a quick, startling movement. She leaped, surprisingly fast for a rhino, from five or six feet away (Thompson 140-141)."

Yes, at first glance, it's trademark Thompson: colorful events accompanied by mind-altering substances. But read it carefully. In a paragraph and a half, he's described a scene with journalistic, precise details, with slight humorous embellishment ("suprisingly fast for a rhino"). Even though he's personally included in the events, he never dominates to the point of being selfish or going away from the main point of the essay (granted, this is a very brief citation from a much larger piece). In the age of everyone writing memoirs, it's easy to say that almost every published work by Thompson is a memoir (per se), but it's honest journalism at heart. As he's quoted in the forward to Kingdom of Fear: "I am the most accurate journalist you'll ever read (xvi)."

As usual, politics come up frequently in the book. This will be no surprise to anyone familiar with Thompson, but he was not a fan of certain presidents (Nixon, the Bushes, et. al) or conservative ideologies:

"The news is bad today, in America and for America. There is nothing good or hopeful about it--except for Nazis, warmongers, and rich greedheads--and it is getting worse and worse in logarithmic progressions since the fateful bombing of the World Trade Towers in New York. That will always be a festering low-watermark in this nation's violent history (333)."

Passages like these reaffirm my belief that Thompson was among the greatest American patriots in the written language. It is possible to criticize politicians and government actions and still be patriotic. He was a staunch supporter of the first, second, and fourth Amendments, and in his writing, no matter how blistering his critiques of the U.S. government get, there's always a glimmer of optimism that things can improve. I'm sure that if he were alive today, he'd be cheering the departure of Bush and the arrival of Obama. However, he'd be just as hard on the new President has he was on the previous ones, even the ones he supported. This post might be rambling a little, but the beauty of Thompson's work is that it touches on so many themes and events, and the essay collections are next to impossible to "review" (not that a review was my intention).

Mahalo.

Work Cited:
Thompson, Hunter S. Kingdom of Fear. Copyright 2003 by Gonzo International Corp.