2011. 120 minutes. Rated R.
“All I can tell you, is, this stuff is so powerful, they give it to communists.”
The Rum Diary is based on a book of the same name, which was written by one Hunter S. Thompson. It’s basically an origin story for both Gonzo journalism and Thompson’s voice and lifestyle. Set on Puerto Rico, the story follows young Paul Kemp (Johnny Depp) as he dabbles in corporate journalism, discovers LSD, and develops his lifelong interest in social justice.
At his day job at a Puerto Rican newspaper for American tourists, where he primarily writes horoscopes and covers bowling, Kemp meets a cast of zany expatriates and the suave yet sinister real estate developer Sanderson (Aaron Eckhart.) Sanderson quickly recruits him to engage in unethical pro-development journalism to aid in a takeover of some of the last remaining free land on the island for a massive tourist hotel complex. Initially he agrees, but Kemp eventually follows his principles and decides to expose Sanderson, leading to the destruction of the newspaper and the beginning of his career as a journalist for the people.
The book is fast-paced and edgy, like pretty much everything else that Thompson wrote. The movie is a reductive and exploitative insult fronted by an actor who could not possibly care less about what he’s doing.
Bruce Robinson did not do a horrible job adapting this screenplay. He’s not Hunter Thompson, and while that’s a bit frustrating, I understand that he was trying to fill some big shoes. At least he was really trying. His Thompson-esque dialogue rings true most of the time and most of the pacing and plotting is solid. The one thing that really slaughtered this movie was leading man Johnny Depp.
Depp last played Hunter S. Thompson in 1998 in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (that time, Thompson was pseudonymed “Raoul Duke.”) This was a role in which Depp showed real and considerable verve. Case in point:
The fact that Depp kept up these antics for the entire movie is a testament to the energy he used to have as an actor. Nobody else could have portrayed the legendary journalist so memorably. Oh, for the days of a young actor playing a seasoned journalist. It’s a situation that just doesn’t work when reversed.
This scene sums up most of my problems with Depp’s performance in Rum Diary. Kemp has just flirted with his dream woman, the lady he will one day wed, his dazzling Venus, Chenault (Amber Heard,) and the man can’t summon the motivation of a hungry jellyfish. Instead, he deadpans a wry joke and stares blankly into the middle distance. How would the real “Paul Kemp” not have been over the moon in this scene? How burned out must Depp be to phone it in under these circumstances?
As a critic, I found that his almost standoffish lack of chemistry with Heard made him completely unrelateable. After all, Heard consented to be eye candy in a flick that was supposed to be good, (likely thinking of her resume,) only for the Big Star to ruin it through sheer indifference.
Heard puts up with a lot of crap for Diary. She has no real part at all aside from her status as the resident pretty object. She is somewhat more complicated in the book, though Thompson himself treats Chennault as a creature without volition and exploits her fairly shamelessly. The movie adaptation excised the gang-rape, which eliminated the icky element of she-had-it-coming that was present in the book, but also preserved Chennault’s lack of volition and the problematic sexist and racist undertones of her character. Chenault simply does not exist outside of her relationships to the men around her (her hobby is sunbathing nude to tantalize the Puerto Rican locals; see what I mean?).
My instinct suggests that the treatment of Chennault was not considered a priority by the creative team because Rum Diary‘s mission was supposed to glorify Hunter Thompson from the start. Why should Thompson fans be interested his future wife? (Whoever heard of Shakespeare’s daughter?) In summary, the only woman in the cast exists as a sexy afterthought for the purpose of demonstrating the transfer of manly dominance from Sanderson to Kemp. Aside from its poor treatment of all the secondary characters, Rum Diary is a massive Bechdel Test fail and an egregious case of femsploitation.
Chennault is the most objectionable aspect, but the creative team behind Rum Diary didn’t seem to give much of a damn about any character outside of each one’s relationship to Kemp. Other characters, including Sala (Michael Rispoli) and Sanderson, delivered interesting enough performances on their own. They just didn’t get much attention, and based on how generally discombobulated the performances were, I suspect that the director had relatively little interest in anyone but Depp.
The film very self-conscientiously and clumsily foreshadows a number of Thompson’s later pursuits, including his hatred of Richard Nixon, and takes advantage of Thompson’s distinctive style with a number of sound-alike lines that drop so noticeably that they may as well have been written for the trailer. The DVD extras were revealing: in addition to mentioning Thompson’s name constantly, (almost always referring to him as “Hunter,”) the cast and crew gushed openly over Robinson’s imitation of Thompson’s voice. As I said before, Robinson did an OK job of aping Thompson and adapting his work. I just felt like he was name-dropping. It was less than classy.
Rum Diary drags itself to a lukewarm conclusion, leaving me frustrated with the loss of a perfectly good 120 minutes. (Plus the time I spent writing.) The only reason I can think of for the casting of Depp in the role of Kemp was the fact that his performance in Fear and Loathing is still so popular. Another actor could have at least salvaged the role through sheer enthusiasm, but fans of Thompson have expectations for Depp based on his history. What a disappointment. Where’s Bill Murray when we need him?
The plot’s not bad at all, probably because it’s based on a real experience. There’s some comedy, some romance, some bad guys. One of Fear and Loathing’s weak points was that it lacked villains, so the opportunity to see Thompson go head-to-head with his enemies for reals in Rum Diary would have been a fine thing to see. This film could have been an inspiring origin story where an iconic journalist both found his voice and made a first, disastrous, noble attempt to stand up for what he believed in. It could have been a fun biopic. It could have been a decent slapstick comedy. It’s kind of incredible that it turned out so bad.
I also came into it with some high hopes. Fear and Loathing still lives between Kiss of the Spider Woman and Phantom of the Paradise in my echelon of personal cult movie favorites. I’ve found many of Depp’s past performances enjoyable and was deeply disappointed when I realized that he actually did not care about my experience as a viewer, and possibly didn’t care about how he treated the memory of a man with whom he claims personal friendship.
Maybe the depth of my disappointment with Rum Diary demonstrates a lack of sympathy for an actor whose career has been artificially extended past its shelf life. Maybe it’s just time to start avoiding movies where Depp doesn’t play a pirate.
