A Filmmaker's Guide to: "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" (1998)

In this chapter of ‘the filmmaker’s guide’ we are going to explore some of the films that have changed our outlook of the possibilities in cinema in some way, shape or form. These can include, but are not limited to: revolutionary cinematography, narratives that challenge the social structure and the common view, trademark styles of auter cinema, brilliant adaptations of novels and other works, films of philosophical value and films that touch our hearts and souls with their incredible underlying messages and morals. Within each of the films in this chapter there is a certain something that makes them special and a certain something that makes them linger long after we have watched them for the first time. Lasting impressions are difficult to create, but I think that the films we will briefly touch on in this chapter are some of the films we will never ever forget.

"Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" (1998) dir. by Terry Gilliam

One of the most psychedelic films of the 1990s and possibly of all time; this film was based on the semi-autobiographical novel of the same name by father of modern journalism, Hunter S. Thompson. Personally, I had purposefully read the book before watching the film and thought that the interpretation of the book to screen was absolutely amazing, leaving only a week between doing both when I was about fifteen. The multi-layered experience of this film is just as important as it is in the book and within both mediums, they try to give you the best experience of it that they can. In the film though, it is explored from an audience perspective upon the subject who experiences it rather than a first person perspective that it comes from in the book. However, neither are better or worse than the other and both serve a great basis for entertainment and information of the birth of modern journalism - also known informally as ‘Gonzo’ journalism.

The cinematography in this film is absolutely wild. Of course, it wants to give us the same sort of experience that is being had by the characters. These strange camera techniques that include extreme close ups, close up panoramic shots and even the shaky-cam styles often more associated with Brian de Palma thrillers rather than a semi-autobiographical comedy. The reason for this is not only to provide entertainment or perspective, it is also in order to provide a version of realism and clarity to the story. The experience of these hard drugs are a part of the storyline which is important and so, in order to understand our protagonist, we need to be able to see these things as real. The shakes in the camera work, the extreme close ups, the overly smooth panoramic shots mixed with the fast and jittered panoramic shots all give this amount of perspective. This is sometimes from the character’s POV, sometimes it is upon the character themselves and sometimes, it is from one character to another and back again. This not only gives great perspective, but makes it far easier to adapt the story to film seeing as you pretty much have the experience layer of the protagonist (who is also the narrator of the story) all done and understood. All you have to work on now is the physical side of the narrative in terms of what actually happens, like a storyboard. It is an incredible technique and I think that if more biopics used this technique when working with a source subject like an autobiography then there would be a far better connection between the audience and the subject. Doing this automatically makes the audience interested in the subject - whether they know who the subject is or not.

Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a main era... The kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something, maybe not, in the long run. But no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time in the world. Whatever it meant. There was madness in any direction, at any hour. You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. And that, I think, was the handle - that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting - on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark - that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.

- The Narrator/Raoul Duke/Hunter S. Thompson, "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" (1998)