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Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas: A Tribute Review

On the 20th of February, 2005, Hunter Stockton Thompson died of a self inflicted gunshot wound to the head. By the time, it could be argued, he had grown to be more legend than man. A note was found near his body which read:

“No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun - for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your age. Relax - This won’t hurt.”

Hunter had accomplished much in his life. He had become a great journalist, chronicling many a sporting event and presidential campaign. He had unsuccessfully run for Sheriff in the town of Aspen and he had become a documenter of the American way of life. Be it Hell’s Angels rallies, the Kentucky Derby or the bright lights and dark corners of Las Vegas, Thompson managed to view the world in a way that most other journalists couldn’t because of his unique brand of Gonzo journalism, a technique developed mainly out of desperation and looming headlines. Far easier to simply write up your first person notes and fax them to a magazine than try and write an objective story when the deadline is a few hours away.

Four years have passed since that time and since I attempt to write movie reviews, I figured it would be time to review Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. I had considered reviewing Gonzo: The Life and Works of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson but I haven’t watched it enough times yet for me to fully appreciate it which is not some I can say for Fear and Loathing. If anything I’ve watched it too many damn times, if such a thing were possible. There was a time when I could probably quote pretty much the whole movie, and found myself doing it again as I watched this film this morning. So grab a bottle of that devil ether and an American flag and join me on a search for the American Dream. After all, if anything’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right.

Oh god, where to begin with this film? Well, how about somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert? Yes, that seems good. So that’s where the film opens, just as the drugs begin to take hold. Oh god, I have a feeling this is pretty much how this review is gonna go. Maybe a plot synopsis isn’t the best way to go about this. Best to leave it for now, get drunk and come back to it.
Ok so I’m back nowe and fuck this. Shh h for a minute. I need to finish of tjis beer. This is so fucking asllu fucking srupifdstupid.. I don’t knbow why I even tried to make tis good. In memory of hunter im gone.look I typed this fuck rhe stupidity. Who else is gonna come out and misspell domeone? Noone becasi I. Im gonna nmpost this tuo cvinepub. Fuck were stupid. Re.