Review: The Rum Diary

jason stives boozes it up with his review of the new Johnny Depp flick …

The Rum Diary follows very much in the vein of Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas, another book of Hunter S. Thompson. But unlike the bizarre landscape created by Terry Gilliam for that film, this passion project of star Johnny Depp has its cards kept close to its chest — telling an exotic tale of excess in a time when truth in reporting meant something. The story revolves around writer Paul Kemp, a New York Times reporter who gets a job writing for the San Juan Star, a fledgling paper with a very elaborate staff. In the midst of being constantly three sheets to the wind and finding the story that one great story the paper needs to get out of its rut, Kemp finds himself immersed in the presence of a shifty businessman with bigger plans for the island and his gorgeous socialite girlfriend.

While it’s easy to see Thompson’s handprints all over the source material here, The Rum Diary‘s main weak point lies in its pace and content. Arguably and almost intentionally the comparisons to Fear And Loathing linger but only on the story and viewpoints of its author. Paul Kemp is not Raoul Duke and Depp’s character wants to make that known. Paul Kemp is a curious vagrant fresh with hope and ideas as a journalist at a time when the waters of the newspaper business were beginning to crumble. Kemp doesn’t see himself as an artist but ultimately his journalistic integrity entitles him to create his own art that people will notice. While he certainly doesn’t seem like Thompson in look and physicality, when the narration kicks in you hear Hunter clear as day through that wonderful speaking voice Johnny Depp developed from him. Yet this presence is very fleeting and not consistent throughout the picture.

Without the constant inner monologue, Kemp is nothing more than a confused derelict with a drinking problem. The straight-and-narrow nature he follows faces up well against the macabre of characters San Juan offers him. You can see the early stages of the opium galoot Thompson became known for. As the character Bob (Michael Rispoli) clearly states Kemp is raising the boulder of the American dream, something Thompson lived by. Suffice to say, as a man greatly influenced by Raoul Duke’s work, I never read The Rum Diary, but I know very well it was a harbinger of Thompson’s humble beginnings as an idealistic newspaper writer — something I can greatly relate to. That is why everything in the film is so washed in beauty and cleanliness as it was a fleeting time in journalism demonstrated by the frustrated nature of Kemp’s toupee wearing editor Edward Lotterman (played by Richard Jenkins in very amusing fashion).

The supporting cast fills out well but is left a bit a float in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. As alluring as she is, Amber Heard’s character of Chantel was never destined to be a point of great interest other than being the suddenly unobtainable desire of Paul Kemp. She is a mystery and classically as beautiful as anyone living a party life would be in the early ’60s … but that’s it. Likewise, Aaron Eckhart’s Sanderson is muddled as a corrupt aristocrat and doesn’t lay on much of the apparent evil that his character’s reputation is believed to be filled with until mid film, and even then there is very little interest in him other than to move the narrative along.

What does work within the cast are Kemp’s crazy cohorts at the San Juan Star in particular photo journalist Bob Sala (Michael Rispoli) and the horoscope writing and Nazi paraphernalia waving Neanderthal known as Moberg — played with wonderful whimsy and insanity by Giovanni Ribisi. Personally, I could have watched an entire film with Ribisi in this role. There was something so strangely original here and very much expected of the people Thompson associated himself with. He is violently blunt in his opinions and seems to always have a potential danger about him even though he is just simply drunken lunatic.

Two thirds of the way through the film, you suddenly feel a sense of loss in the its direction, and the slow two-hour running time doesn’t help so when the third act hits, falls, and ultimately ends, the convoluted nature of Thompsons’ stories really show. He was never the best journalist but was a hound of a wordsmith, so it’s fitting that Kemp as a young writer fails at delivering that both professionally and narratively. Director Bruce Robinson (Jennifer 8, Withnail & I) really lacks editing skills, and nothing is painted to its best extent except for the travelogue looking scenery which makes up for a generic environment that could’ve been explained more to what we assume someone like Kemp would see it as.

Suffice to say, The Rum Diary caters to a specific audience but doesn’t necessarily satisfy even them. It’s another cinematic chapter in the work of Dr. Gonzo, but for Johnny Depp, once is surely enough in the role. Humorous elements and some great dialogue save what is ultimately a mediocre take at a book that never saw the light of day for almost 40 years and maybe should’ve been kept from the hounds of Hollywood.

Rating: 6 out of 10 (Good not Great)