Reel Lessons: The Rum Diary

Hunter S Thompson, godfather of gonzo (The Picture Desk)

A movie about sailors?
Close. It’s about legendary “journalist” Hunter S Thompson, whose persona is as memorable as his writing. The gun-toting, drugged-up godfather of gonzo journalism positioned himself as society’s critic.

What is gonzo journalism?
Pioneered in the 1960s, the gonzo school placed the writer at the centre of the story, allowing him to report facts, narrate events and editorialise all within a single piece.

Was it any good?
Yes. Many aspiring writers attempt to imitate his style but few succeed. Frustrated, most give up for more lucrative careers and essentially become a part of the society he lampooned.

Not enough drugs?
Exactly. Few reporters these days understand how to use mescaline to gain insights into the political process — a skill that Thompson had mastered by about 1970. Of course, plenty of youngsters are inspired to try the drugs and the drink, but most forget about the writing bit. That’s called your 20s.

And 30s, and 40s in Hong Kong...
Indeed, many more carry on telling the world what someone they met (or haven’t met) thinks, without the same razor-sharp wit or sense of the absurd as Thompson.

Who plays Thompson in the movie?
Johnny Depp, of course. He was friends with Thompson and, indeed, paid for his funeral after Thompson died in 2005 at age 67.

Did he die from an overdose?
Yes, an overdose of lead from his beloved Smith & Wesson 645. He shot himself in the head.

This is Depp’s second go at portraying Thompson, isn’t it?
Sort of. He played the role of Raoul Duke, Thompson’s narrator and tripped-out alter ego, in Terry Gilliam’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and reprised the voice of that role again for a desert-highway cameo in the animated adventure Rango.

So is there a story, or just drugs this time around?
Both. It’s based on Thompson’s obviously semi-autobiographical novel, in which the protagonist is washed up and unsuccessful in New York, no doubt in small part because he’s unimpressed by the crushing conventions of late Eisenhower-era America. So he travels to the pristine island of Puerto Rico to write for a local newspaper where he soon starts to try to wake up the wealthy and privileged with his observations of the poor and downtrodden, and fat tourists.

Ah, a 1960s American version of Filth.
Yep, instead of failed in London try Hong Kong, it’s failed in New York try Peurto Rico, though FINYTPR doesn’t exactly role off the tongue.

Does he succeed?
Sort of. He gets stoned, drunk, ends up in jail and loses his job. But he gets the girl.

Sounds like The Hangover.
Well, they say there’s no such thing as an original story, and The Hangover certainly demonstrates the truth of that sentiment.

This story first appeared in the July issue of FinanceAsia magazine.