Sundance Review: Gonzo - The Life and Work of Hunter S. Thompson

Laremy Legel,  Jan 21, 2008

The phone won't stop buzzing. Orange light pours through the curtains and I'm on the couch of a three-bedroom condo deep in the heart of Park City, Utah for the film festival. Six hours ago Gonzo: The Life and Work of Hunter S. Thompson ended, then a bar, then this couch, and now the infernal buzzing. You see, someone has callously left their cell phone under something, or near something, only it buzzes to let them know it's still operating on their behalf. It's still taking in messages, a bright communication beacon, and every 40 minutes it reminds them. It buzzes twice, short bursts, the first buzz is sufficient to wake me up, the second enough to make me realize I don't have a clue where the phone is. We'll repeat this dance again in 40 minutes. They get to sleep on with the phone merrily out of earshot. I don't.

In the movie Hunter's friends and family share of their loss on screen, interspersed with Johnny Depp quoting the man with contextual pieces of dramatic renderings thrown in for good measure. Everyone misses Hunter. And for good reason. Gone are the days of speaking truth to power, replaced by a much more efficient PR delivery mechanism that has pleasantly replaced dissent with sycophantic glee at selling out. These days Hunter would have gotten one column off before a shiny faced intern asked to see his badge. And could you take your cigarette outside please, sir?

This is what passes for news at the Sundance Film Festival, a giant multinational company subsidizing a big, big star. Viva la independence! We've come so far with this independent film festival thang that we've thankfully gotten out of the wretched business of finding and savoring new talent. Redford told us all to look past the "hype," but if we did that what would be left? The parties? The paparazzi? Perhaps a helpful primer should be given to all those aspiring filmmakers out there - guys and girls looking to be lauded for having the "right stuff."

Steps to conquering the independent cinematic universe and getting yourself a big time development deal:

1. Be born as Tom Hanks' son.
2. Be born as Robert Redford's daughter.
3. Cast Alan Arkin (Glengarry Glen Ross), Toni Collette (Sixth Sense, About a Boy), Greg Kinnear (Thank You for Smoking, As Good as It Gets), and Steve Carell (but before he gets big!).

You see, this isn't so hard, is it? If you do one of the above things then you'll get that needed "push" from the festivals. It's sort of refreshing that talent, innovation, and courage have been obliterated from the equation, right? Hunter S. believed in a form of journalism where you viewed something once the smoke from the bullets cleared. Again, and it can't be overstated, this is no longer done. He once taped a Jimmy Carter speech in which Carter attacked the notion that the powerful and privileged should run the judicial system so fully and completely. The idea that a few should have power over so many appalled him. Carter made this speech at a lawyer's convention, as they looked on with hatred in their eyes, and Hunter recorded the whole thing and made Carter front page news shortly thereafter. If you brought up the same notion here, that the ten people who can actually get a film made have somehow made this process so dirty, horrific, and unclean... well, I suppose they'd just ignore you. Hey, was that Jake Gyllenhall? Is this an open bar? Oooooh, they're giving out free bags with the Entertainment Weekly logo!

Hunter once said that we were really just a nation of 220 million used car salesmen with all the money we needed to buy guns, having no qualms at all about killing anybody else in the world who tried to make us uncomfortable.

I suppose Hunter would have to note that times have changed. We're at 300 million strong now.

Grade: A