Pick-Up Monday 1110

Rare are the days when I have the steep cash to trundle out to the multiplex. I seem to reserve that for special occasions: big-things-blowing-up kinds of movies, or superhero-fantasy-epic type of fare. Maybe you're the same - or maybe you used to work for Fannie Mae, and can afford 13 bucks for that big-tub popcorn. Not at my house. Put it this way, if Mag and I go out to the movies, it means that root canal money. Get me?

Fortunately, in this Superhighway world of ours, there are many and several ways to watch films, old and new alike - and a couple of them legal: Cable TV, Veoh, Google, NetFlix Online, etc.

True, there is the sacrifice of quality to bear. Certainly, watching, say, Stephen Spielberg's old ABC Movie of the Week, DUEL, on Halloween night in front of the computer - on YouTube, blown up to Full Screen, in 9, 10-minute parts, where Part 4 was actually a dupe of Part 3 - was not exactly what you would call the Blu Ray Experience. But, fortunately, I have good speakers, it was still scary as all get out, and not too far removed from the way I first saw it as a boy in the early 70s. There was a sort of Great Explorer feel to the whole thing that made it fun - like Lewis and Clark, or Budge at the Tombs of the Egyptians: "Gosh, I wonder if a scene has been posted on - no. Darn. But, what if I spell it like th - Eureka! It's the whole thing!"

Anyhoo - this is the way I watch a good many films these days: I "pick them up on the fly." So, in deference to that, we here at maggie sprocket submit for your approval a new feature: Pick-Ups. In honor of those daily movies that drop into our lap unplanned, and often over screens intended for other use. Case in point - from Netflix Online:

There is a great documentary to be forged from Hunter S. Thompson's struts and frets across the American literary stage - but, heartbreakingly, Tom Thurman's 2006 BUY THE TICKET, TAKE THE RIDE ain't it.

The subtitle, "Hunter S. Thompson on Film," led me to believe that maybe there were private home movies or something in the offing - but no, it was just the usual stream of "renegade" movie folk who haven't had to skip a meal of late, and some 60's literary mandarins thrown in to tell us how transcendent things were during the Revolution. Then Harry Dean Stanton sang and cried over the credits - because he didn't get to at Mr. Thompson's Memorial, it was explained. Fair enough. There are several people here who have lost a great friend in the man, and I empathize. But, frankly, for the rest of us interested parties, there is much clearer, more interesting biographical information regarding Thompson in his Wikipedia entry - which I was forced to reference since Thurman's intentions were so muddled.

The film began with a sketchy timeline of his early years - but focused little on his developing writing style, or why it became significant. A fleeting bright spot occurred when artist Ralph Steadman talked of their first job together, but then a full 20 minutes was taken up by appreciations of Bill Murray's and Johnny Depp's impersonations of Thompson in WHERE THE BUFFALO ROAM (1980) and FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS (1998), respectively. Followed by some other stories about his wacky behavior, and how great it was to hang out with him. Then he shot himself. Well, alrighty, then - thanks for the insight, guys.

No - where did he come from? What did he do? What drew him to it in the first place? What was it about his writing that made him unique? What was his career timeline? Did it follow a pattern at first, and then veer off into something else? Was he successful? How did it change? No talk of the Hell's Angels. No Doonesbury, even. Look, the matter of the man lies not in all the legends of him taking drugs and blowing up stuff on his farm. They're fun, but no substitute for the spine of a good thesis - and you end up cheating the subject of his value to us.

And do not ever sit in front of a camera and explain a human being's taking of his own life as a result of his inability to "live up to his own myth." What a crock of fecal matter. He was a unique American voice. Next time, show me why. You might start by having some of the actors read aloud passages from his books.

Click the poster art for a scene.