Fear gets lost in translation

When I first heard that Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas was destined to become a movie, I grimaced at the thought of some crazy pervert soaking up distorted lines that hinted of Thompson's work and misinterpreting genius for a chance to overdose.

Thousands of blank faces staring at the screen with eyes that shine like fish in the darkness. Thompson's words were never meant to be shoveled into open mouths like fast food in the summer.

The story begins on a vast, desert highway, somewhere in Arizona. The assignment was originally run as a Rolling Stone experience article series. Thompson was a journalist sent to Las Vegas to cover the Fabulous Mint 400, a motorcycle iron man race in the dust and sun that lasted for days.

The one major component of the situation was the amazing quantity of drugs consumed by Thompson and his attorney in the "Big Red Shark," a long convertible that roared over the sand and under the chaotic neon groves through wild hallucinations. Johnny Depp played the good Dr. Gonzo Thompson and seemed to have a pleasant grasp on playing the role of a man in a drug frenzy, far from home, surrounded by strange creatures passing somehow as humans.

The lawyer guides the fevered journalist through his faltering communications and questionable realities. In the book he is powerful and always offers Thompson advice by the key words, "as your attorney, I advise you to..." This was somehow lost in the transition to the silver screen, or possibly lost by an actor with less charm than a mule.

The main theme present in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas was a quest for knowledge. Thompson and his attorney were not out to cover some boring event that would be forgotten as soon as the tents and stands were down, but a feverish search for the true American spirit. Deep in the heart of the city, they narrowly escaped with their sanity.