Hidden Flick: The Dear Hunter

The Thompson found in Breakfast with Hunter can be quite cantankerous. Occasionally, in the film, he is drunker and higher than any of us will ever know—although, some will try in mortal vain. However, Thompson is also quite articulate, perceptive and thought-provoking throughout most of the documentary. As well as being a better drinker, coke snorter, acid eater and pill popper than you and me, he was also a hell of lot smarter than 10 out of 10 people in most rooms he stumbled upon. That careful balance between euphoric energy and a fertile brain gave birth to some of the best writing of the late 20th Century.

Ewing is the only filmmaker who managed to show Thompson’s silent, contemplative side on celluloid—perhaps, because Thompson considered him a loyal and talented friend and one of the few members of his tight Woody Creek inner circle—and it is absolutely fascinating to watch as the Gonzo beast becomes a pleasantly weird yet ingenious combination of Charlie Chaplin, Jack Kerouac, Bob Dylan and Buddha.

To produce the best observations, Thompson often surrounded himself with the best—hence, his scenes with Terry Gilliam, Johnny Depp, Benicio Del Toro, Laila Nabulsi, George McGovern, Jann Wenner, P.J. O’Rourke, Ralph Steadman, Don Johnson and Warren Zevon to name some of the marquee figures that graced his psychic terrain. Along with this odd band of comrades in Gonzo arms, Ewing documented the quiet moments of epiphany that were so critical for Thompson to produce his watershed achievements. The viewer also sees how Thompson was trapped by his own invention—involving himself in a story to create a more enlightened glance at a crystallized moment whereby one straddled a fine line between fact and fiction. Once Dr. Frankenstein had invented his literary monster of a persona, he entered a stormy relationship with a muse that could not always communicate with the Grand Master of 20th Century Letters.

Thompson did not give up (neither did his idol, Bob Dylan), as his career entered a renaissance phase in the late 1990s with the twin towers of accomplishment—the publication of his first book of letters, The Proud Highway, and the underrated cinematic classic, Terry Gilliam’s great masterpiece, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. One needs only to look at The Proud Highway to see that Thompson was far more than his well-crafted, drug-addled and liquid-drenched image. The first volume of letters is a stunning book that should forever serve as a lesson to any new writer that one needs talent, first and foremost, but the aspiring scribe also needs to write often, read much and work at the craft no matter how painfully early or late it is and that large rock on the beach sure looks like a comfortable spot to sleep after eight too many beers.

And I included that last paragraph as a nod to Dylan, who also became a prisoner of his public image and escaped from those chains late in his career, because Ewing does an outstanding job of documenting this latter era in Thompson’s life. One can see the light still burning in the writer’s childlike eyes. One can see how much curiosity the man had about everything that entered his realm—a truly ‘free man’ who didn’t suffer fools and sought no counsel but his own, compromising only if absolutely necessary. One can see how his accumulation of facts while studying current events helped his political writing. One can see the gentle side of Hunter S. Thompson’s character—an image often overshadowed by a raging demonic writer astride a steel horse as he blazed through his life at 100 mph with nary a missed opportunity for fun, madness and The Truth.