25 Years of Fear and Loathing
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Universal Pictures (1998).
By C.A. Ramirez
One of the last great films of the 1990’s, as introspective as it is debilitating.
Directed by: Terry Gilliam
Written by: Hunter S. Thompson, Terry Gilliam, Tony Grisoni
Cast: Johnny Depp (Raoul Duke), Benecio Del Toro (Dr. Gonzo)
“A drug person can learn to cope with things like watching their dead grandmother crawling up their leg with a knife in her teeth, but no one should be asked to handle this trip.”
Dr. Gonzo (Del Toro) and Raoul Duke (Johnny Depp)
Terry Gilliam managed to take Hollywood’s sexiest men and make them bald and fat in order to capture the grotesque magic of Hunter S. Thompson’s infamous drug-fueled novel, “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.” With no shortage of psychedelic twists and turns, Gilliam’s 1998 masterpiece is one of the few films that captures the chaotic catastrophe that was Thompson’s brand of “Gonzo” journalism.
The movie opens with one of the most iconic lines ever filmed.
“We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold.”
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas follows Raoul Duke (Depp) and Dr. Gonzo (Del Toro) as they navigate from Los Angeles to Las Vegas. Charged with covering the famed Mint 400 desert race, the pair approach the assignment with the delicate nature that only two fiendish drug abusers could. The insanity of their psychedelic trips is enhanced by the actors themselves. Depp and Del Toro have incredible chemistry, and their performances bring Thompson’s 1971 novel to life on the big screen in ways that outshine Bill Murray and Peter Boyle’s roles in the 1980 Thompson, semi-biographical film, Where the Buffalo Roam.
Depp as Raoul Duke, a Doctor of Journalism
From its gritty start to its fantastic finish, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, is carried on the back of its stars, Depp and Del Toro, with all the wonton panache of a coke addicted surgeon performing brain surgery in the back of a convertible going 120mph on a bumpy road at night. The fiber and feel of Gilliam’s movie ensnare the viewer with its absolute disregard for delicate sensibilities and any semblance of morality. This film is not for the faint of heart, it was made for those who wake from a weekend of partying with a beer and a bowl of cornflakes topped with Wild Turkey.
The aftermath of a drug fueled night.
The story is ludicrous but based in truth, even though that truth may have been altered significantly by every drug known to civilized society. Hunter S. Thompson was regarded for his brand of “Gonzo” journalism which blends facts with his inebriated opinions. The result is a narrative that rides the fine line between truth and fiction, and the reader cannot tell what is fabricated and what constitutes reality. Thompson’s words are, nonetheless, more entertaining than either alone. After they bungle their coverage of the Mint 400, the two misfits wander around Las Vegas in a drug induced stupor until they find themselves at a Circus-themed casino where they decide to crack into their storage of ether and catapult their minds into the stratosphere.
“Bazooko’s Circus is what the whole hep world would be doing Saturday nights if the Nazis had won the war.”
Dialogue like this is peppered throughout the film and novel, and it is what makes both mediums leap with energy, like “frogs in a dynamite pond”. The pacing of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is fiery, and the last 20 minutes reflects Thompson’s incredible writing style. The end of the film has Raoul Duke racing Dr. Gonzo to the airport to make his flight home, and his departure conjures up one of the most iconic lines ever written or performed.
“There he goes, one of God’s own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live and too rare to die.”
Del Toro as Dr. Gonzo
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas was one of the last great films of the 1990’s, as introspective as it is debilitating. Sober people will not understand it, and if they do, they will surely misinterpret it. A blistering pustule that was left to fester, a carbuncle of calamity that culminated with the American Boomer entering retirement after they left civil rights and world peace half-baked and doomed to die. Gen-X and Millennials appreciate a tale of woe and wonder, and by that right, so should Gen Z and whatever God-forsaken generation that follows.