esrosedotblog

I violated my rule about never seeing a film of something I have read or book I have seen in a film.

But in this case, I was curious enough to see what "they" did and I am glad that I did.

On the Road (2012)

written by Jose Rivera from the book and directed by Walter Salles.

What they have done is anchored the film in the relationship between the two men around whom all the action is then hung like a christmas tree.

It does work but there are long stretches where one wonders if it will. On the road is, eventually, a boring experience as more than one person in the film blurts out.

On the other hand it reflects a time and a place which we cannot even see today let understand.

A challenge for actors with an audience like me is that I do remember a lot and I can testify that the film is beautifully rendered and as accurate as it can be given the decades since its time.

The actor problem is centered on the fact that men today do not look or act like the men then. First of course, not foremost, is that all men had lousy teeth then. Now, all white choppers that defy ones ability to suspend disbelief.

Also, they are more well fed. They radiate health. Kerouac was an alcoholic already in his cups and Neal Cassady was a crazy man although quite sexual and charismatic. Ginsberg and others who appear here were grungier and not at all good looking.

Anyway, that passed as a concern. Garrett Hedlund is charismatic and quite good. He is the center and the center holds. Sam Riley as the Kerouac character is just holding on. But he has to. Someone has to have their head on straight throughout the orgies and parties. A solid job. No flash. Probably a necessity.

The homo erotic quotient is pretty high and while Cassady was just a polyamourous horn dog the others stepped into his sphere and took part whenever they could. Threesomes. Foursomes. Sometimesomes. Good job without being sensational.

The film takes off with a walk on by Steve Buscemi as a faggot salesman who takes them half way across the US on one of the many cross country jaunts. He lights up the screen with subtle and hilarious moves.

If anything, what the film lacks is a sense of humor about its time, its people and itself.

The payoff is in the end which some people have complained about.

I was delighted to see Sam Riley put the long scroll of paper into the typewriter (the actual scroll which still exists, I have read the book made directly from it, was a teletype roll, yellow and cheap.

As he writes it all down (he has been taking notes the whole time, a little off-putting) they make a sound montage that will give you the goosebumps. Voices, sounds, jazz, traffic, the characters voices in small chunks. Just like the manuscript and finally we get the idea of the writing itself. Why it was so hard to tame as a story. Here, they have done a great job wrestling the story to the ground, getting it somewhat organized and then, at the end, jumbling it all up again as it reads.

By now, I have had enough of On the Road but my life experience is that just when I begin to forget about it and feel it slip away I want to read it again. Take it out. Get the feel.

Today, the movie which I would watch again I suppose making it a 4 out of Netflix5.

Garrett Hedlund is one handsome motherfucker and if he can handle his success in carrying this film he will have a great career but, today, there are no stars and he will probably be put on the shelf for the next good looking magical actor with good teeth who will work for less money. That is the washup story of our times.

Labels: films