Breakfast with Hunter (2003) – DVD

*½/**** Image B+ Sound A- Extras B
directed by Wayne Ewing

by Travis Mackenzie Hoover It's hard for me to approach the subject of Hunter S. Thompson without feeling a surge of nostalgia and regret–nostalgia because his literary/journalistic adventures were great fodder for my adolescent rebellion, regret because I wonder at this later date if he's good for much else. As much as I cling to the memory of his dank, fetid prose and pathological flouting of authority, I am made nervous by his confusion of the line between political dissent and personal desire to get high and raise hell. Unfortunately, most of his fans aren't that conflicted–like my teenage self, they love to hear of his daredevil chemical exploits and blithely assume that his scattershot nose-thumbings are somehow for the greater good. Wayne Ewing appears to be one of those fans: his documentary Breakfast with Hunter is content simply to bask in Thompson's miscreant presence, never once stopping to analyze his work, consider his tactics, or otherwise penetrate his towering and heavily fortified myth.

The casually-constructed video ricochets between gatherings and encounters. Gatherings, as the author's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas reaches its 25^th anniversary and inspires a flurry of tributes, and encounters, as Thompson fights bogus DUI charges and nervously approaches the prospect of his magnum opus being made into a movie by Alex Cox. As if lining up witnesses for the defense, the film makes much of celebrity endorsements: Johnny Depp, John Cusack, and Warren Zevon sing the author's praises and/or read his work, as do associates like former subject Roxanne Pulitzer and conservative pundit P.J. O'Rourke (whose presence in Thompson's life, let alone this film, is mystifying). And there is much footage of Thompson cutting up, spritzing the ROLLING STONE offices with a fire extinguisher, driving with a drink in his hand, and speaking his much-opinionated mind, such as when Cox foolishly introduces a cartoon sequence into his Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas script. No doubt about it, there's much love in this film for its subject, and just as much love for being with that subject–both of which seep through every vérité frame.

But that love is blinkered and ignorant. What, besides general naughtiness, does Hunter S. Thompson stand for? It's mentioned in passing that his DUI rap was politically motivated, but the film never really examines what kind of threat he poses to the Colorado elite, nor does it go into much detail about his platform in a 1970s "Freak Vote" bid, represented here purely by a vintage (and disapproving) Thames television segment. For Ewing, it's enough for Thompson to seem embattled and defiant–his politics are simply one more arena for him to be "an outlaw" who "challenges the status quo." This is madness, because without defining what Thompson so vigorously opposes, his opposition exists in a vacuum, never to register as anything other than rebel talk in a college dorm room hazy with pot smoke. Surely Thompson's legacy adds up to more than the whoopee cushion to which Ewing has reduced it, however much the author's reputation has encouraged such interpretations.

At best, Thompson crushed the fallacy of the impartial observer and revealed his biases; at worst, he made himself the story and subsumed the outside world into his tastes and appetites. It's important to separate the one from the other, but not for Ewing: he sees no distinction between political convictions and personal habits, meaning the former takes a back seat to the latter. All that remains are some entertaining "great bits": here Ralph Steadman complaining of his being left out of the mission to Las Vegas, there Thompson chewing out Cox over a proposed cartoon sequence, here some idolatrous readings from his letters and work, there Thompson pouring himself yet another drink of something hard. There's no mention of the title subject's convictions, beliefs, or politics beyond the obvious noting that they're unconventional and cool. While I would like to think that Thompson has a little more to him than addled clowning for the amusement of college students, so long as people like Ewing play this game, his body of work will continue to be ironically trivialized by the very people who love it the most.

THE DVD
An independent operation that played a few festivals and is currently available for sale solely through the Internet, the Breakfast with Hunter disc does all right. The fullscreen, DV-sourced image is often grainy, but that's simply due to the low-light conditions of many of the locations; when the setting is bright, the image is as sharp as can be expected with the DV format. The Dolby 2.0 stereo soundmix doesn't fire off any channel-separation pyrotechnics, though that's par for the course for a documentary, and everything is remarkably audible for a film of varying sound conditions. Extras are as follows:

Commentary with Hunter S. Thompson and Wayne Ewing
I'd like to say that unleashing Thompson on a commentary track is a license to print mayhem, but for the half-hour that he puts in, he doesn't do much but state the obvious and point out limited backstory to his bid to become Sheriff of Aspen. Happily, he drops out early, allowing Ewing, who proves to be much smarter than his film lets on, to take over. The director's tips on documentary and fly-on-the-wall analysis of various scenes are often quite thoughtful and informative.

"The Rum Diary" (5 mins.)
Thompson explains the story behind the loss and resurfacing of his early attempt at a novel, and then shows footage of an editing session in which passages of the text are read. Of some interest to fans, and of minor interest to novices.

"Screwjack" (10 mins.)
P.J. O'Rourke begins to read the title story, a lewd interlude involving Raoul Duke and a cat; sometime later, Thompson neighbour Don Johnson does the same, with the two personalities intercut. Alas, they're not stellar readings, partly because the readers crack up at the naughty bits.

Gonzo Journalism (13 mins.)
O'Rourke, on assignment to interview the master, begins with a query on the definition of the term "gonzo." After revealing its Portuguese origins, the two writers ramble on about various topics, including the relative merits of Death in Venice and Lolita and the difficulty of writing on drug experiences, only to wind up reading from the end of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. A fairly interesting meeting of the minds.

Oscar Acosta (6 mins.)
A few clips of Thompson remembering Acosta, the lawyer known better as Dr. Gonzo in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. We learn that he was miffed to not have a cut of the book's profits and that he ultimately met a bad end. Sad, and probably essential for fans.

"Fear and Loathing in America" (6 mins.)
A taste of what is described as "a very long night of editing," a collection of Thompson's correspondence. Mostly just editors reading the juicy parts, which would be better left on the page.

An insanely thorough bibliography including hardcover and paperback editions, publishers, dates, and even the ISBN numbers rounds out the package.

91 minutes; R; 1.33:1; English DD 2.0 (Stereo); CC; English (Hunter S. Thompson transcription) subtitles; DVD-5; Region-free; Wayne Ewing Films