The secret of showmanship consists not of what you really do, but what the mystery-loving

public thinks you do.

~ Harry Houdini

If you’re wondering about the quote, according to Blake Shelton, somewhere in

the first five minutes of a well-structured screenplay someone will make a
statement that doesn’t quite make sense at the moment, but will have far-
reaching and meaningful impact later. That is the movie’s essay’s thematic
premise, not to be confused with the thesis statement, which I shall now
explain.

To be in compliance with the institutional yada, yada, yada, of seriously, film

school? All movies with the potential exception of documentaries and
experimental films, as I substantiated prior, are metaphoric of some thematic
premise. Thus, hidden somewhere amidst the surreal Vegas Strip backdrop
surrounding a drug induced roller coaster catalyst for the Hollywood reality
grasping at half baked hallucinations trying to settle the notion of its own
existence being real or an illusion, with pick and shovel in hand I will
tenaciously unearth the deeper more meaningful revelation into the purpose
for experiencing the existence of this Fear and Loathing. One second while I
take a breath. So, come, let us surpass this mystery, remove our shirts, pour
beer on our torsos to accelerate the tanning process, and together bask in its
omnipotent glow, or… god forbid, like Geraldo Rivera in Al Capone’s vault,
we may end up discovering that its all just one big gonzo illusion. Thank you
very much Mr. Hunter S. Thompson!

Granted, not all, well I guess I should go so far as to say, hardly any
popular film plots ever come the slightest bit close to being as complicated or
laden with euphemisms as my last paragraph Why is that, You ask.? Well my
friend, I’ll tell you. The reason is quite simple really. You know those snooty
bigwig Hollywood types? The ones that drive down the road like they own it
in the most expensive BMW or Mercedes black convertibles feeling important
because it looks as if a cell phone has somehow been super glued between their
head and their hand. Yeah, all those bastards got together and came to a
general consensus that the mental capacity of the film going audience is, get
this, “CLUELESS!” Now, as much as I want to be a naysayer, myself
included, in a raspy whisper, “that’s why we’re here isn’t it, because we
can’t figure out this Fear and Loathing business? Yeah, that’s what I
thought.
Now, for the sake of argument, let’s just agree that Fear and Loathing was
shot within the realm of Save the Cat having become the “Holy Grail” of
film development in Hollywood. Barring Gilliam being on some kind of
Thompson tirade, it stands to reason that the cookie cutter recipe was obliged
and minimally in some loosely abstract based way the film is relevant of an
over-all theme. Following the opening image which would be in congruence with
Blake’s outline, there is a quote from Dr. Johnson, “He who makes a beast of
himself gets rid of the pain of being a man” Without question, that should be
it and we’re done. Seriously, that’s the sum of Fear and Loathing? You’ve
got to be kidding me. That’s about as deep as a toilet bowl and would have
more impact if someone said it to the next guy in line for the bathroom stall
he just finished wreaking havoc in, “Hey, he who makes a beast of himself
gets rid of the pain of being a man!” Wink, wink. Good god man, throughout
the entire film there is a plethora of narrative banter parading the auditory
runway in khaki and tacky fashion typical of Hunter’s drugged out meta-
euphoric caricature that is easily observable as not making sense but
potentially detonating a far-reaching impact and you’re telling me that’s the
prolific statement that defines it all? Perhaps that’s why the movie did so
poorly, because there’s got to be a million more people just like me who
aren’t buying it.

But wait, what if it’s a decoy? In the filming community there are those who
uphold ideology in contrast to directing the class’s attention upon the lesson
to be learned with, “Bueller, Bueller, ok anyone, Bueller?” For example, Billy
Bob Thornton in his interview on the Actor’s Studio stated, “If you tell
them that this movie is about racism, so we want you to come see it, so we
have this huge $98 million movie and all the big stars are in it and we’re
going to talk to you about racism. Well, the racist’s won’t come see it. But, the
racist’s will go see Slingblade because they just think it’s about this goofy
guy and they love it!”
Oh My God, hold on… As I’m drawing in a deep slow contemplative breath,
my eyes and perspective in unison grow wider and wider. Having reached the
maximum extent of my intake, I reverse expelling a long slow exaggerated
WOW! Could it be? Is it possible that Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is about
racism? It would take an extensive collection of criterion in one’s knowledge
base to envision it as a conceivable construct and myself personally, well I
definitely wouldn’t rule it out. Hmmmmmm… Enough of that gibber jabbers
we’ll come back to it later.

For now, let us peer into one final take on this whole metaphor thing from the
highest authority, the Graduate filmmaker, and best director Mike Nichols. In
an interview with Gavin Smith relevantly titled Of Metaphors and Purpose,
he attributed his success to the early years of his career performing
improve on the New York club circuit. “When you're improvising an audience
basically is saying to you, ‘Why are you telling me this?’ This kind of
feeds into my method as a director, I believe that it’s more important to know
the character and know the conflict of the scenes. With that one knows where
one needs to go and one can easily make up a way to get there. Without it a
person is just making up words and the audience is sitting there asking,
‘Why are you telling me this?’” In regards to the failure of Catch-22, Mike
felt the audience was lost in translation, deciphering what is or is not reality.
Ultimately, Nichols said, “To a greater extent than a play, a movies artistic
success as an experience depends on the power of the metaphor that is the
central engine of the movie if you have a powerful metaphor, if the audience
knows why they’re there then you can soar very high.”
While we’re on the subject of soaring very high, just who is this person
taking us on this trip into the euphoric kaleidoscope of sizzling neon, harmonic
ringing of metal colliding upon metal, and rivers of poorly designed high
contrast casino carpeting. Let’s head up into the cockpit and take a look at
the man flying the plane, Terry Gilliam who was Born November 22, 1940 in
Minneapolis, Minnesota. At age 12 his family moved to Los Angeles where he
grew into your average Mad Magazine loving longhaired anti-authoritarianism
hippie type that graduated from Occidental College with a BA in political
science. Repeatedly hassled by the police, pissed off at a warmongering
government, and deathly afraid of becoming a terrorist, he hopped the pond
to become a British subject who then formally renounced his American
citizenship. Oh yeah, then our loveable huggable Captain Chaos here, no,
seriously, that is his real nickname and the very real job that he lands…
appropriately enough, a children’s series animator. Ha! From there our pilot
joins Monty Pythons’ Flying Circus where he writes and directs the
satirical classics, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, The Life of Brian, The
Meaning of Life, etc. Well, now that we know who our pilot is, perhaps it’s
time we know who he isn’t.
It appears the acid laced ticket to our raucous funhouse mirror version of Las
Vegas was optioned more than once and offered to some namesakes the likes of
which much more palatable to the jet setting lounge lizard types with their
insatiable appetite for the destruction of the American Dream. Martin
Scorsese for one and… I don’t know why, but you know? That just conjures
up this twisted image in my mind of Joe Pesci dressed in khakis with a
fishing hat asking, What, you think I’m trippin’? Do I look like I’m trippin?
What’s so trippin about me huh? Ha, had you trippin there huh?” BANG!
The waiter falls over clutching his knee screaming in agony. As Pesci puts
the gun to his head, “Motherfucker tell me I’m trippin’” The waiter
painfully grunts out a response, “No, I said, would you like a to go box to
put your tri-tip sandwich in.” Pesci puts the gun away and sits back
nervously trying to act all cool and casual. “Ha, ha, well, I guess I am trippin
then!” Yeaahhh, NO! I believe the next was Oliver Stone… The Doors…
Natural Born Killers… Yeah, Oli might have pulled it off. I don’t know if it
was script rewrites, casting, budget, or… something just didn’t sit right
with him and he blew it off. Personally, I would have thought Kubrick
especially with Nicholson slated to play Thompson but, damn that would have
been some really dark and twisted shit. Anyways, the clock on that option was
up so the current producer called dibs and her first choice straight away
was our circus monkey. Unfortunately, in as much as he wanted to do it, he
was already committed to the Fisher King with Robin Williams… Wait a
minute… What? How the hell did our boy get that gig? Whatever. Cox, come on
down you're the next contestant on the directors not right! When everyone
protested the changes that he had made in his version of the script, as the
name suggests I guess he turned out to be a dick and told everyone my
script, we’re doing it my way. So the producer said, or you can hit the
highway… bye, bye now, Take care, see ya! So what do ya say we put on the
old turn signal, slam the wheel to the right, pump the brakes, and have a
little fun cutting him off with a single finger salute as we exit this tangent,
eh?

Good god man, screw it, keep going we don’t have time for transitions!

Who is Raoul Duke? Ummm, I don’t know, who is Raoul Duke? Oh, ya, ya, ya,
AKA Hunter S. Thompson played by Johnny Depp. Wait, wait, wait, I just
thought of something and now it’s like worms crawling under my skin…
it’s… if Depp was already on the project why didn’t they get Burton?
Mars Attacks hit theatres in ’96 and then Sleepy Hollow, umm, correct me
if I’m wrong but I do believe that’s another one starring Johnny, So…? This
is totally a trippy Tim kinda thing and teamed up with Johnny, well you can
just take that to the bank… in a cynical voice, the blood bank! AHHHHHHHH! I
saw that damn trailer with Steven Seagul on TV and nails on a chalkboard I
can’t un-see it! Twitch, twitch, twitch… Ok, Hunter S. Thompson, born July
18, 1937 in Louisville Kentucky. Two weeks before Hunter’s birthday in 1952
his father died leaving Hunter’s mother to take care of him along with two
brothers while working as a librarian and pursuing a hobby of heavy
drinking. Three years later during his senior year in high school Thompson
was caught riding around in a stolen car with a perpetrator who knows how
to accessorize his robberies and the only thing better than that is a Judge
with a credit card who knows how to what? Charge it! Congratulations Hunter
you won’t need to make that trip past the Stop & Go after all nor will you
need to get $200 out of the ATM because you just won an all expense paid
trip to the county resort! Yes that’s right Hunter you and a surprise guest
will be shacking up for 60 rest filled days and nights and while you’re
enjoying those luxurious meals of spam don’t you worry because you wont be
taking your senior final exam nor will you have to worry about being late
because that also means you’re not going to graduate! Oh, and last but not
least, if you were going to prom, you weren’t gonna get any taking your mom,
but round here the motto is, what happens in your tail stays in jail! After
serving 30 days Thompson parted ways and enlisted in the Air Force. In
1956 while serving at Eglin Air Force Base Hunter took evening classes at
Florida State University in addition to landing a job as the sports editor for
the command courier with a well written fictional expose on the job experience
he didn’t have. Following that, it only took one more year for Thompson to
earn an early honorable discharge for being a talented airmen with a
contagious inability to be guided by policy that seems to sometimes rub off on
the other airmen. Following his short Air Force career was a short stint as a
sports editor for a Jersey shore newspaper before relocating to New York
City where he audited several courses at Colombia University school of
general studies. Aside that he worked a brief period of time for Time before
he was fired for insubordination giving him the time work at the Middletown
daily record and get fired for damaging an office candy machine in
addition to arguing with one of the papers’ advertisers. In 1960 Thompson
moved to San Juan Puerto Rico to work for El Sportivo magazine. Do I need to
say it only lasted a short time before Hunter was back in the states hitch
hiking across the country till May of 1962 when his journey again went south
for the winter to be a correspondent for the National Observer? He then
returned to marry his longtime correspondent who gave birth to his son while
they lived briefly in Aspen Colorado before moving to San Francisco in 1965.
Um, just in case, is there anyone here who will be requiring the assistance of
a GPS unit to figure out where this is going next? Ok then, what more
perfect job could our drugged out hippie have than working for the Berkeley
underground paper. After writing a story about the Hells Angels motorcycle
club for the Nation there were offers of book deals for which Hunter lived
and ate meals with the Angels. Anyone care to take a stab at how long it
lasted before it came crashing to an end? So that no one else repeats this
mistake, please note that when one tells a Hells Angel that it is inappropriate
to beat his woman and His dog, there is a potential for that member to feel a
need for demonstrating how he likes to kick start his motorcycle and for the
purpose of demonstrating this activity the Hells Angel will more than likely
be in need of a volunteer to play the part of the kickstarter. Now before you
go off yelling me, me, me, keep in mind that depending upon how drunk this
biker is, as Hunter found out, the majority of the action will more than likely
be taking place some where in the vicinity of your face. In 1966 Random House
published Thompson’s book about that Hells Angels and following its success
Thompson began selling articles to several national magazines across the
country. 1967 Thompson writes a piece for the New York Times bashing the
Hashbury hippies for losing their political convictions in pursuit of getting
high. Perhaps Hunter felt that they should be more like him and pursue the
Presidential campaign trail less traveled so that they too can have a first
hand account of this beast that it is, not just killing, but slaughtering the
American dream like buffalo on the prairie, and then go get high! In 1969
Thompson received a royalty check from the sales of his Hells Angels book.
It’s too much, I, I can’t resist it… I just gotta make this sound fuckin poetic!
So it was that dark and dismal day. Time, not a mans sin does it wash away.
But rather they just continue to accumulate all the while. Sooner or later he is
faced with a monstrous heap of unbearable gut wrenching bile! What can he
do except take what is rightfully his from that long ago beat down. Take it,
take it out into the country, stake a claim, and put a payment down. Though
twisted it may seem, own a piece, a piece of the carcass that is left of the
American Dream. Then, then you make a stand. Put your name in the hat to
run for sheriff and become the law of this land! Ya ok, that was obviously
going to be short lived. Don’t get me wrong it was close, but it just isn’t
Thompsons’ calling. Speaking of which, I think I hear Vegas calling because
it’s about that time.
.

Is it hitting you yet? Are you seeing it? It’s crazy ya? Uhhhh, ok, do this,
take your hand and hold it up in front of your face. You touched the pages
right, you should have been able to feel it absorbing into your skin as you
were reading, slowly trickling up through your body, and collecting like right
there at the bass of your skull? No, take your hand again up by your face,
look at it real close, ya, just like that, and NOW SMACK YOURSELF IN THE
FACE REALLY HARD! I’m talking about the contrast between Gilliam and
Thompson, It’s really starting to become apparent why the producer wanted
him on this project, she had to have been up late at night doing her
homework.. They both have some serious antiauthoritarian issues, not to mention
a deep loathing of a government that is wreaking havoc, covering it up and
lying about it, yet doing a crappy enough job at it to get caught. Both are
activists in their own right, Thompson wants to get into government and fix it
while Gilliam on the other hand just wants to blow it up. They’re both
storytellers and not just your average story either they’re both out there on
the fringe. This may not be quite so apparent yet, but they both have a really
quirky sense of humor. Yes while I have been giving him a ration of shit, let
me say this in my defense, What’s your favorite color? Red, no, blue!
Ahhhhh. Bring out yer dead, bring out yer dead… How are you going to
fight? I’ve chopped both your arms off, you’ve got no arms left. That’s
nothing, It’s just a flesh wound. Ahhhhh, killer rabbit, run away, run away!
The esoteric comedy of Monty Python, yes I know it all to well and well it’s
not the dark escapades of Fear and Loathing. However, they do both share in
the twisted satire of life and for that reason I pointed out the directors who
“didn’t get it!” It speaks volumes about the integral role of comedy and
satire in this film. There is an American film critic by the name of J.
Hoberman who began his review of Fear and Loathing with, “(The film) used
a lost weekend in Las Vegas as a metaphor for America’s season in hell.” At
first, it threw me but, The bats aka the bloodsuckers always out to get you,
The lounge lizards - raucous politicians, life - the big giant zombo circus, the
war - played by itself, and finally Raouls speech comparing the San
Francisco movement riding a wave, which even from Vegas you can see the
high water mark where it fizzled out. There are some who say this movie has
no point and well, truthfully the same thing can be said about the sixties.
Something to ponder as we wander through the last few points of interest on
our enlightening nostalgic trip.

Who is Dr. Gonzo? According to Hunter, had it not been for his tenacious
pleading and his publisher anteing up the offer of an autobiographical book
deal it would have been no secret at all that attorney and friend Oscar Zeta
Acosta was the man behind the mythical Dr. Gonzo. Apparently, when Acosta,
upon its release, was shown the book boldly bearing Thompsons’ name on the
cover with absolutely no mention of him, he went ballistic. Now, rather than
try to paint some metaphorical rendering of the term “ballistic” as it applies
to Acosta, I’m just going to accost you with the eight by ten color glossy.
Though born 1935 in El Paso, Texas, Oscar was raised in a small community
near Modesto, California after the family moved there. Upon finishing high
school he joined the Air Force, then worked his way through Modesto College,
became the first person in his family to get a college degree when he
graduated San Francisco State University, and after spending his nights in
San Francisco Law School, he passed the California Bar Exam in 1966.
Having acquired this tidbit of information about the San Francisco attorney
who worked for legal aid before moving to Los Angeles to join the Chicano
movement and help the impoverished residents of the barrio, I watched some
videos featuring this hard working compassionate gentleman speaking about
some of the families he had helped out. If this is the man who inspired the
Dr. Gonzo character, I’m sorry Mr. Thompson but I call bullshit! The drug
story has got to be a front. In the beginning of the movie as the duo is
escaping the tension of a legal battle resulting from the LAPD firing a tear
gas canister into a Chicano protestors face at a lethal point blank range,
there is a billboard stating that anyone caught with marijuana will serve
twenty years and if you are caught dealing say good bye to the rest of your
life. Seriously, for a drug that one can now legally purchase and consume
for recreation? Oh, I get it, the drug thing is a commentary on the racist
drug laws created to suppress the Hispanic people and minorities in general
who were painted as drug addicts, rapists, thieves, and murderers… nice!
Ooops, my bad, I guess I missed the PBS documentary that aired back in
March revealing the true angry aggressive Chicano lawyer that didn’t wear
shoes to court, took drugs on his way in, carried a gun in his briefcase, set
a judges lawn on fire, was linked to a liberation front that claimed
responsibility for bombings in California, was very abusive especially
towards women, could hold his own in a bar fight, and called his son from
Mexico in 1974 to say he was boarding a boat full of snow before
disappearing, never to be seen again. Ok, in that case, Benicio Del Toro, Damn
good show man according to Thompson you nailed it!

And what the hell is gonzo journalism?

Prior to running for sheriff of Pitkin County, Colorado in 1970, Thompson
was hired to return to his hometown and cover the, well as it turns out not so
prestigious Kentucky Derby. The Playboy photographer, was for the first
time meeting the British lipstick and eyebrow pencil sketch artist, who would
soon enough become his primary partner in crime, Sir. Ralph Steadman.
Straight away Thompson was introducing the worried little bugger to the free
bar in the press box of the “Huge outdoor loony bin”where he provided a
play by play rundown of the true spectacle that they were about to observe
taking place trackside, the real derby of the beasts! It wasn’t long before
the duo were chatting away like a couple of old chaps plotting and planning
their great ascent into the F&G section of the clubhouse to harass the gentry
and mace the governor. Following the two-day binge of drunken debauchery,
hung-over, empty handed, and facing a deadline, In sheer desperation,
Thompson hammered away at the keys of his typewriter churning out a manic
first person drunken narrative account of the Kentucky Derby’s decadent
and depraved. When the article appeared in the June 1970 edition of
Scanlan’s Monthly Bill Cardoso editor of the Boston Globe praised Thompson
for his creative new style and suggested he do more pure gonzo journalism.
Following his lost bid for Sheriff, coincidentally the subject of Bobby
Kennedy III $2mill film shot last summer in Colorado, Hunter was in LA for
the death of Ruben Salazar, when he and Acosta, in an attempt to escape,
initiated a search for the American Dream, an infamous failed experiment in
Gonzo Journalism, Thompson’s interpretation of William Faulkner’s notion
that “fiction is often the best fact” where else but in Las Vegas would one
of the great literary magicians choose to perform his second great illusion.

Conclusion (restating the thesis and bringing together all of your

supporting ideas…drawing a conclusion…taking things to the next
level…answering the question “so what?”)

The second time that I was reviewing the criteria a friend was watching with me and

commented on the traits and characteristics performed by Depp being very close to that of

Thompson. To which I laughingly replied, “Oh No, uh-huh, Depp does a way better Raoul Duke

than Hunter Thompson does.

Fear and Loathing is a metaphor for Americas season in Hell.

There used to be this masked magician who did a bunch of TV specials in which he ripped off

everyone’s tricks, revealed every aspect of how they were done, thus pretty much sucking the

marrow, prestige, and life out of the illusion. From everything I’ve seen up to the journal it

seemed that Thompson, Gonzo Journalism, and Fear and Loathing have had a mysterious
magical air about them created in part by the way everyone dances around the subject trying to

avoid becoming that asshole magician yanking the rug out from underneath it. That was kind of

the effect I was going for, hinting at the potential for the story to be bullshit but leaving the

reader with the choice to believe what they want.