There’s not too many movies out there that make me want to smoke biker meth. No, not that 2025 clean meth with a sminch of fentanyl, I’m talkin the greasy trucker meth of old. I do not recommend this for the average viewer, biker meth or otherwise. But if this was still 1972, all bets are off.
Paragraph 2: The summaries here are irrelevant, just watch the fuckin show. Bill Murray as Dr. Gonzo. Peter Boyle as the lawyer Lazlo. Snapshots of pure lunacy.
This really isn’t a coherent story. More of a pastiche, a patchwork, a warm fuzzy blanket of craziness, as it were, of Hunter S. Thompson fuckitudes and enlightenments. Back when “Why Be Normal?” Meant something. Drugs? Bad. Drugs and alcohol? Badder. Usually. Here? Debatable. But I do have to give Bill Murray some credit here for doing a good job with pulling off the Thompson persona. Both him and Johnny Depp made it to the final cannon firing of his ashes up the Colorado way after the insane mofo did himself in. Is this a great movie? No. Is it an awesome movie? Yes. Say what you will, Hunter S. Thompson was a madman fueled by alcohol, drugs, and typewriter ink that has been captured by few. Bugshit insane? Maybe. But my kinda crazy. Can’t say I agreed with everything the dude wrote, but his insights? One of the best cracked lenses to view this crazy world through. In my opinion. Nixon!
