Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson
My main sense of identification with the prose of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson comes not from any actual writing of his, but from the repellent 1998 film adaptation of his infamous novel “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.” Alex Gibney’s insightful and engrossing documentary (making him three-for-three of late after his Oscar-winning “Tales from the Dark Side” and 2005’s “Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room”) makes me wish that weren’t the case. As a long-time reader of Rolling Stone magazine, where Thompson’s words found their home through most of his turbulent career, I should be more familiar with the father of “gonzo journalism,” as his brand of in-depth infiltration mixed with perception-enhanced substances became known as. Gibney’s film has made me see the error of my ways; the director’s celebration of his subject- whose words are sprinkled throughout, as narrated by “Fear and Loathing” star and Thompson friend Johnny Depp- may not get too deep into the good Doctor’s psyche (who could, really?), but he does what any good documentarian does in presenting his subject undiluted and without bias, although it’s hard not to get caught up in the affection shown him by interviewees Tom Wolfe, Ralph Steadman (Thompson’s long-time illustrator cohort), and Rolling Stone editor/publisher Jann Wenner.
One of the more surprising things to come out “Gonzo”- for this viewer at least- is how appealing Thompson is in spite of his flaws- his obvious addictions to drugs and drink for one. Like his character in “Fear and Loathing,” Thompson is a live-wire anti-hero looking out for the average American by taking on the system, and exposing them to a different slant on the world. Most notably is this true in his landmark coverage he did on the campaign trail for McGovern during his presidential bid in 1972. Not one for objectivity, such a thing is irrelevant when the perspective is so beautifully twisted…and precise (even if all the facts weren’t true). The memories of his subjects (including, of all people, Jimmy Buffet, former President Jimmy Carter, and Nixon advisor Pat Buchanan) serve Thompson well, making this iconic figure someone accessibly human. Serving his memory best though are the two wives we see interviewed (one of whom was hurt deeply by his excess and infidelity, the other of whom got less than the 10 years he promised her when he shot himself in 2005), the thankful collaborator he had in Steadman (whose illustrations helped define Thompson’s gonzo style). Most poignant of all is the video footage of his last wife Anita, who captured a particularly elegant moment of Thompson, at his typewriter, listening to Elton John’s “Candle in the Wind.” Sure, it’s sappy, but for someone who was so reckless and fearless in his persona and writing (and whose end was so tragic and unfortunate), it’s a moment you can’t help but appreciate, even identify with.
In an odd way, I found myself thinking about current Democratic Presidential nominee Barack Obama while watching the film. Both are idealists at heart, neither are content with the status quo their country so blissfully has accepted for so long, and both are potent voices for change. I just hope Obama doesn’t go the same gonzo route Thompson did in the face of the challenge of making such dreams a reality. I do wish the good Doctor was around to extoll Obama’s virtues in his own singular voice. I think he’d be excited at the prospect of waxing poetic on this kindred spirit. Plus, the blogosphere would be a much better place.
