Hunter S Thompson based his novel The Rum Diary on his personal experiences working for a Puerto Rican newspaper in 1960 but it never saw publication until 1998; coincidentally, the same year that Johnny Depp starred as Thompson in Terry Gilliam’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Now, in Bruce Robinson’s adaptation of Thompson’s long delayed book, Depp returns as a pre-Gonzo incarnation of the author (Gonzo referring to the style of subjective journalism inaugurated by the controversial writer).
Not only was Depp a close friend of the late Thompson himself, he was also a major player in getting Robinson on-board (the latter having abstained from directing for several years following a torturous experience on thriller Jennifer Eight). That should tell you something about Depp’s passion for the project, and it was highly likely that the film would turn out to be the worst kind of cliquey, parochial film with no life-blood beyond its star’s enthusiasm. But thankfully, The Rum Diary contains a great deal of charm, albeit the slightly shambolic kind.
Depp stars as Kemp, a young journalist who wants to learn how to write like himself (essentially he’s an autobiographical stand-in for Thompson). The film attempts to document the birth of Thompson’s authorial voice, which was to result in the satirical Fear and Loathing, but this aspect is soft-pedalled, with the narrative instead favouring a light-hearted, free-wheeling tone, filled with drinking. Lots of drinking. Along the way, the script flirts with darker, edgier subject matter (Kemp’s attempts to document Puerto Rican’s urban poor draws him into conflict with his editor, Lotterman, played by Richard Jenkins) but by and large it’s as troubling as a Maguerita on a beach.
Famously, Robinson has admitted to discarding most of Thompson’s text, instead favouring his own interpretation. What we’re seeing then is a collision of two anarchic minds: the boozy, woozy attitude of Withnail and I transplanted to the exotic climate featured in Thompson’s autobiographical tale. That the film doesn’t really know what it wants to be oddly adds to the flavour; it’s like a sun-drenched cocktail packed with unpredictable flavours. There's even time for a (slightly undercooked) love story between Depp and Amber Heard’s Chenault, the girlfriend of corrupt property developer Sanderson (Aaron Eckhart), who tries to enlist Kemp in a shady business deal.
If Fear and Loathing was about queasy excess, The Rum Diary is much more grounded, at its core the story of a young journalist struggling to find his own voice. The narrative is as shambling as it was in Fear and Loathing but the tone is much milder, affectionate even. For that reason, it might bore those seeking the satirical viciousness of the former, but simultaneously, it might be too offbeat for the mainstream crowd. That said, it’s wonderful to see Depp once again working on a project that isn’t out to sell toys or theme park rides; it’s the kind of low key portrayal he used to specialise in, prior to his A-list emergence as Captain Jack Sparrow.
He gets excellent support from the game supporting cast, especially Michael Rispoli and Giovanni Ribisi as his perpetually sozzled fellow journalists. Cars without front seats, 470 proof alcohol, voodoo and more are also chucked into the blender, resulting in a film that’s ill-disciplined and all over the place but funny, good looking and heart-felt with it. It might not resemble Thompson’s work – but one senses the anarchic writer would have approved of a film that’s willing to distort things a little bit.
Rating: 8/10
