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It was somewhere around the fall of 1998 when Hunter S. Thompson became a go-to Halloween costume.
The great gonzo journalist was no longer prolific, but his impact endured thanks to Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, his 1971 eulogy to free love that essentially predicted the rampant greed that would dominate American culture in the 1970s.
By the '90s, though, Thompson's output had withered, largely relegated to uninspired magazine commentary. His image—the iconic panama hat and omnipresent cigarette holder—disappeared from the public consciousness, except that of die-hard Doonesbury fans.
So when Terry Gilliam's bugfuck big-screen adaptation of Fear and Loathing hit screens, its impact was twofold. For the generation that grew up with Thompson, it played like an acid flashback, with blood-soaked reptile orgies and Circus Circus hallucinations played out in vivid detail. To a younger generation, it served as a surreal introduction to Thompson's persona.
The takeaway is how Johnny Depp's immersive performance finally showed what it might have looked like to witness Thompson in action. Expertly played by Depp at his peak—before scarves and hats became his acting method—the Thompson character, Raoul Duke, is a spindly, paranoid avatar stumbling through greedy Vegas, peering into the war on drugs and the savage death of the hippie mythos. Being a first-person account, the book doesn't explain the good doctor's physical attributes outside of Ralph Steadman's legendarily grotesque sketches. In the film, Depp balances the writer's real-life mannerisms—his screeching hysterics, wobbly gait and fiery eyes—with the cartoonish exaggeration that, to this day, dominates the perception of him.
The film came far too late, really. It couldn't have been properly made until 1998, but it seems oddly out of place since Thompson's prediction that the American dream would die was a hard truth by then, rather than a bold prophecy. And Thompson, by the time the film was released, had become a shell of his former self. What we end up with is a nostalgic look back at the days when he was the counterculture's most stirring voice.
But modern audiences being what they are, the new generation of fans simply glommed onto the clown aspect. Now, 44 years after Thompson's masterpiece and 10 years after he punched his own ticket, Gilliam's film shows the point where Thompson's legacy became blurred and mumbling Raoul Duke caricatures became a staple of Halloween parties for revelers who know nothing of bike gangs or great shark hunts.
But if you view Gilliam's movie in just the right light, you can still see the high watermark where Thompson changed the world. It may have been a belated big-screen endeavor, but at the very least it has inspired others to pick up the book. Or, at the very least, it caused a spike in sales of Panama hats and cigarette holders.
SEE IT: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas plays Friday-Thursday, Sept. 4-10, at the Academy Theater.
Also showing:
- For this yearâs 48 Hour Film Project, teams had two days to come up with a short involving legal weed, a ticking clock and a bike. Now, the 12 best entries get their big-screen debuts. Hollywood Theatre. 7 pm Wednesday, Sept. 2.
- Peter Cushing unleashes a blood-slurping mutant moth monsterâwho is also his daughterâin The Blood Beast Terror. The film later inspired Hannah Montana. Joy Cinema. 9:15 pm Wednesday, Sept. 2.
- For a while, Temple of Doom was considered the worst of the Indiana Jones adventures due to its shrill romantic interest and rampant camp. Then Shia LaBeouf played Tarzan with a bunch of bouffanted monkeys. Now Indyâs infamous Indian dinner buffet seems like high cinema. Cartopia. Dusk Sunday, Sept. 6.
WWeek 2015