Yet another wild torpedo ride with Dr. Thompson.
Oscar Wilde once said, we know the price of everything, but the value of nothing. All we ever want to do is build and expand and monopolise and make any stretch of barren land as lucrative as possible. In doing so, the beauty of nature has just turned into one big dollar sign (currency depending on your country). An army of construction workers will descend onto an empty beach and turn it into a resort in no time, lumping the beach and the view that comes with it into the package deal of checking in. Pay to see the view rather than stroll on the beach and enjoy it for free, because such a notion is completely absurd as far as capitalism is concerned.
What happens when America run out of bankable land to build more hotels and resorts on? Well, just take your real estate business to the closest tropical island and molest their land. The locals feel burned and hate the gringos who’ve moved in, their country feels divided, and America has expanded its dirty frontiers even further. Welcome to Puerto Rico in the 60’s. Such is the hectic chaos that aspirant journalist, Paul Kemp arrives to in The Rum Diary (2011), based off of Hunter S. Thompson’s novel. Landing a job at a plummeting wreckage of a newspaper company in San Juan, a publication so virulently hated by the locals that constant rioting blocks the front entrance, Paul wants to write more than just cheap horoscopes and mind-numbing articles about gluttonous American’s who’ve come to waste the remainder of their lives away in the bowling alley. When a hush-hush opportunity arises to write a series of strategically placed articles to promote a scummy business venture to terraform a paradisical island into a cash vacuum of a resort, he confronts his personal beliefs as they clash with this rotten business venture. His whole stay, tinged with violent bursts of alcoholism and stained with aggressive violence from the locals. It’s a shaky sort of limbo.
It’s been a while since I read The Rum Diary and I remember many occasions of going to the park and reading it aloud to myself and benches dedicated to dead people, my twisted idea of keeping them company. Thoroughly enjoying the novel and eating up every word straight off the page, it’s distinctly in my memory. There are some differences between the book and the film, but nothing major, the story for both has stars in the same constellation. Though at time it lacks the same focus and determination that makes the book such a frenetic ride.
Much like the crazed habitual questioner stumbling through life, the camera stumbles through the world of the film. From hovering and witnessing the events at a safe distance to complete intense involvement, the camera and its movements take on this juxtaposition of safety and panic. The cock fight scenes are shot with a peculiarly dramatic air, vicious feathery creatures lunging at each other claws first, the camera captures the bloodlust in their eyes while the dollar signs in the betters eyes are in soft focus. In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s copious amounts of rum consumed throughout the film, giving the camera a sort of rum-soaked vision, making the colour palette at time look like this diluted brownish red. Shot on location, surrounded by the beautiful tropical scenery, luscious greens and refreshing blues dominate the palette when the last of what’s left of the camera’s liver isn’t dripping in rum. Old cars and decorated bars outdoor bars aided in the art design of the period with such supreme detailed effect that I must tip my hat to it.
Groovy surf-rock tunes that make up the soundtrack along with a whole needle dropping collection of Latin music took me even further in submerging me into Puerto Rico in the 60’s.
Who else would you expect to play the role other than Johnny Depp? Having spent so much time with Hunter himself, he’s picked up on many of his odd mannerisms, playing the character with great fun and the respect you’d accord a good friend. All the other performances were enjoyable to behold, especially all the staff at the San Juan newspaper, their lack of faith and hope in the survival of their newspaper is apparent in their behaviour. The writing has been appearing in the headlines for long and now all they await is the eventual fold.
A voice-over would’ve aided in taking Paul’s scathing views and opinions of the savage world he’s in, out of his head from the book and onto the screen. The book itself is often quite rambly and I feel this is missing from the film. Just look at how well the narration worked in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998) and you’ll know what I mean.
Greed and betrayal and a terrible division of classes and races run rampant on this little island, no one gets along and everyone just wants to stab the other in the spleen to get ahead. At least there’s never a dull moment when you won’t have to run for your life at the drop of a hat. Though the pace of the film drags in certain spots, it’s a mighty watch and I loved it throughout. Go watch it if you want another HST film adaptation with Johnny Depp’s amazing
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