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Article IndexBY JOE TYRRELL
NEWJERSEYNEWSROOM.COM
MOVIE REVIEW
Paul Kemp is polite, well-spoken and can make himself presentable, but as "The Rum Diary" opens, he nevertheless appears to be bound for a life of sweats and stupors.
In his second homage to the iconic journalist Hunter S. Thompson, Johnny Depp seems to have stopped time as Kemp, a 20-something would-be novelist fleeing, or bounced from, mainland journalism. Yes, Depp may be 48, but he looks as immortal as Duncan MacLeod.
CLICK HERE FOR 'THE RUM DIARY' TRAILER
Still, after he awakes in a litter of mini liquor bottles in his San Juan hotel, even his snazzy wraparound shades can't hide Kemp's hangover from the editor of the local newspaper, nor does his résumé claim of "fluent Spanish" conceal his lack of even passable Spanglish. It is 1960, and while he has arrived wearing a blue blazer and white slacks, but he's landed in the journalistic equivalent of Skid Row.
By turns crotchety and cheery, the excellent Richard Jenkins as editor Lotterman welcomes Paul with the news that "fresh new blood" will invigorate the paper, and youthful enthusiasm will drive out its lack of commitment and discipline. Then he assigns Kemp to write horoscopes and interview tourists at bowling alleys.
Very loosely based on Thompson's very loosely autobiographical novel, "The Rum Diaries" has a plot and a romance. But its real pleasures are meandering along in the spirit of his brew of keen social observation and self-indulgence, moralistic decency and hard partying worthy of programming for E!
Kemp soon makes a friend in photographer Bob Salas, another fine performance by Michael Rispoli, who serves as his unofficial guide to the island. Paunchy, sweaty, in seemingly unchanging clothes, with what might be a scruffy beard or merely spreading mold, Salas is slightly more presentable than the average photographer, and more cheerful than most.
He and Paul enjoy, or at least survive, some picaresque adventures, while the paper's wraith-like religion and crime reporter Moberg hangs around on the fringes. Or perhaps that's the fringes of the fringes, because Giovanni Ribisi plays him not so much far out as way, way out. Yes, Moberg has recordings of Hitler speeches, but that may just be because he likes hearing bombastic German at volume. Or not.
In these circles, Kemp travels scenic but shabby parts of the island. Without ever pounding the point, "The Rum Dairy" shows him beginning to draw his own conclusions about cockfights and street urchins and the hotel parties for Union Carbide execs and their girlfriends across town.
He quickly intersects with those well-connected interests, in the person of Sanderson (Aaron Eckhart) a fixer with a modern beachfront home, a 1958 Corvette and a very young and very blonde girlfriend, Chenault, played by Amber Heard. Like "Mad Men," this movie glories in the era's lean but flashy architecture, skinny ties and elegantly dangling cigarettes. This is an America that dreams of the moon, but still loves a good smoke, a strong drink and a beautiful colony.
