I only watched Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas because Terry Gilliam directed it. I am not a fan of Hunter S. Thompson after reading Hell’s Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga and hope that his tombstone says ‪#‎CrimingWhileWhite‬. I know that there is supposed to be a method to his madness. I don’t care. I am angry at Johnny Depp as if he owed me money for many reasons, including but not exclusively Dark Shadows and Transcendence. I would not ever entertain seeing The Lone Ranger or Mortdecai. So I am not surprised at being disgusted by Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas EXCEPT for two moments.
First, I love that the main characters recoil in horror at Tobey Maguire’s face. Second, Christopher Meloni’s scene, which does more to highlight the ugliness of society than the two main characters who are not only the part of the ugliness, but the leading contributors. As Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas progresses, the main characters’ actions become more misogynistic. Thompson’s ode to counter culture can be summarized by the following: I wanted to change the culture, but I got high, blacked out and made it worse instead. There are happy drunks and ugly drunks. Guess which category Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’ characters fall into.
Allegedly there was supposed to be more overt political commentary in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, but Gilliam largely excised it in exchange for his surrealistic style and swimming in nihilistic angst of daily life. I did like the idea, which is not fully fleshed out and may be my particular misreading of certain scenes, that at times, Benicio del Toro’s character was an illusion and actually not accompanying Thompson on his drug-fuelled road trip. Unfortunately del Toro is closer to Jack Black in Nacho Libre than his usual awesomeness so Gilliam has failed us. Skip Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas unless you find repulsiveness appealing.