Director: Barbet Schroeder
Starring: Mickey Rourke, Faye Dunaway, Alice Krige and Frank Stallone
At first, I made a halfhearted promise to myself that I would never mention Charles Bukowski or Hunter S. Thompson on this blog. I’m pretty sure I made this promise because I didn’t want to be found out for the intellectual thief I really am. Then I decided that I would wait until I had more stuff on here, so at least I could hide the reference and obvious influence like a needle in a haystack. What the hell. Now is as good a time as any.
I’m a huge fan of Bukowski’s books, both poetry and prose. When he was at his best, he was almost certainly a better poet than a novelist, despite the fact that his poetry is extremely prosaic. This is not to say that his novels weren’t absolutely fantastic. I’ve read most of them: Ham on Rye, Women, Hollywood, Factotum and Post Office all have a place of favor on my bookshelf. Whether you love him or hate him – and there are plenty on both sides of the aisle – there is no denying that Bukowski did something new and revolutionary in the world of literature.
The film is the perfect introduction to the writer for the person who has never read his books. This is largely based upon the fact that Bukowski himself wrote the screenplay, despite having no prior experience with the form. Within the movie there are bits and pieces of his several novels strewn about, sometimes mere shadows and allusions, other times passages from his books are re-presented. One criticism of the writer that always sticks with me and strikes me as valid is that he was very repetitive.
The film follows the life of Bukowski’s alter-ego Henry Chinaski, (played by Mickey Rourke) a drunken, brawling poet-bum through the superficially meaningless events of his skid row existence, from which the protagonist takes ultimate significance. “Some people never go crazy,” he writes in one scene. “What truly horrible lives they must lead.” And basically Chinaski takes this tagline and makes it a way of life as he wanders the concrete earth in search of a good drunk, beautiful women and a contrarian’s cause to champion. He loves classical music, hates obviousness and machismo and seems to have little or no regard for his personal health or hygiene. Along the way he does battle with “Eddie” the bartender played very well by Frank Stallone and manages through his haze to make love to two pretty great looking women in “Wanda” (Faye Dunaway) and “Tully.” (Alice Krige) He also gets discovered as a writer, which is in a way an afterthought to the events of the film, other than the fact that it brings five hundred sorely needed dollars into his life, which he quickly proceeds to spend at the bar buying drinks for “all my friends.”
I’ve done a lot of thinking and had great trepidation about the statement I’m about to make, but I’ve decided to make it anyway. This is, bar none, the best movie about drinking ever made. And the main reason for this is the fact that there is never a hint, never even a consideration, that Chinaski will ever quit drinking. It is undoubtedly bad for his physical and probably mental well being, but the bottom line is that this is who the man is and he will never change. Far too often a great addiction story is ruined in the end by what comes off as a false redemption of the main character. For most, there is no redemption, no story book sobriety that leads to a new life and an optimistic future. This story literally ends as it begins, with the protagonist continuing in what many would call an insane journey. This strikes me as authentic: the way it is and the way it needs to be.
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