It's hard not to have expectations when a movie is based on a classic novel like Jack Kerouac's "On the Road." So when the film opened with a rambling narrative that's all over the map, I became increasingly frustrated at what appeared to be overly random character development -- albeit somewhat necessary -- that was more continuous than transformative.
Jose Rivera's screenplay starts out scattered, like its characters, and I simply was not getting into it. At one point I was just lost. Then an epiphany. Suddenly I found myself becoming invested in these wandering souls, empathizing with them and their seemingly aimless plights. "All over the map?" "Lost?" The movie was mirroring the book on which it was based. It should be all over the road, because that's what the story is about. "On the Road" doesn't follow a traditional three-act structure, and it's not meant to. Once I had that lightbulb moment I began to settle into what, after the first half hour or so, became a captivating journey which so entrapped me in its grasp that by the closing credits I was crushed at having to bid adieu to this crew.
The film, like the novel, is told in first person from the perspective of Kerouac's alter ego Sal Paradise. The Second World War has just ended. Sal is a struggling New York writer (redundant?) in search of a story and he does what all authors are told -- he writes what he knows. But, aye, there's the rub. There's not much to mine. His sense of self isn't fully-formed yet, so he relies heavily on the advice and acceptance of his ne'er-do-well compatriot Dean Moriarty and a mix of lost souls stuck in the wandering generation between battle-scarred veterans and the yet-to-be Baby Boomers. Little defines them outside the mind-altering substances and jazz bars around which their lives revolve. Sal's was a life of sex and drugs and be-bop. He decides that the answers lie elsewhere, physically and metaphorically, so he heads out on the road -- in a quest for adventure and experiences to fill in the ellipses of his book and, in so doing, his mind.
As the narrator Sal, Sam Riley's perfectly underplayed performance helps define the movie. His cocky yet inquisitive nature allows him, and the viewer, to explore his curious relationships with a certain degree of acceptance. In so doing, we are less judgmental when encountering the often self-destructive exploits of Dean (Garrett Hedlund), sexual explorations of Carlo (Tom Sturridge), and Bohemian whims of Marylou (Kristen Stewart). Hedlund, Sturridge, and Stewart totally inhabit their characters. Marylou's role is significantly less vital in a male-centric story but Kristen Stewart pours everything she has into it. When Stewart is on screen she always delivers on her promise. Hedlund, even more than Riley, provides much of the heart and soul of the film. Sal sees his life more through Dean's druggy eyes than his own, and his emotions rise and fall on the occasional successes and, unfortunately, frequent failures of his beloved friend and mentor. One of the most unexpected surprises was the performance of British actor Tom Sturridge, almost unrecognizable as a free-spirited American poet seeking his sexual identity. His portrayal of Carlo Marx demonstrates why he's long overdue in entering the pantheon of our most talented young actors.
Critical in support, as the women who weave in and out of Sal's life, are Kirsten Dunst as Camille, Amy Adams as Jane, Alice Braga as Terry, and Elisabeth Moss as Galatea Dunkel. Pivotal male performances, although occasionally in a single scene along the way, are turned in by Viggo Mortensen, Steve Buscemi, Terrence Howard, and Rocky Marquette.
"On the Road" has the true look of a classic American indie from the start (and it's a France/Brazil co-production). Opening in late 1940s New York City, one can almost feel the gritty, grimy streets and smell the dirty, smoky air in the bars where the hipsters congregate. Within 15 minutes you feel like a good shower. Dim, single-point lighting enhances the mysterious, shadowy corners within which the characters lurk in search of meaning. The jazz soundtrack is perfectly matched to Sal's voice-over in iconic noir style.
Eric Gautier's passionate cinematography primarily relies on hand-held camera with extreme closeups. Together with François Gédigier's rapid-fire editing, the tight action and fast cuts emphasize the frenetic, manic episodes our protagonists experience. Once the crew hits the road, the viewer is treated to the occasional breathtaking shot of the American west in all its then-pristine pre-suburban glory. Long periods of quiet introspection are sprinkled throughout, the pace slows, and the viewer takes a breath and a mental pitstop before hitting the road again.
Emotions are all over the map as well, as Rivera's script turns poignant and sad one minute, comic the next, and often puzzling. But such is life in the world Kerouac creates, and we are just visiting. How can we fully comprehend everyone's actions when they don't understand themselves? Kerouac's novel helped define and inspire a generation to head out "on the road" and discover America and, in so doing, a piece of themselves. This filmed version has the potential to inspire a new generation to head out into the country's hinterlands -- there's still plenty of wilderness out there -- and discover something, whether within or without.
"On the Road" isn't just about a search for adventure in far off places. Not at all. It's also about a search for self, or selves in this case, and the characters aren't fully-formed because the people aren't. It's this reality that justifies the film's often rambling parallel story lines that are more stream-of-consciousness than linear narrative. But that's what Kerouac wrote, and Salles remains true to his vision. The book remains a classic. The movie does it justice.
Jose Rivera's screenplay starts out scattered, like its characters, and I simply was not getting into it. At one point I was just lost. Then an epiphany. Suddenly I found myself becoming invested in these wandering souls, empathizing with them and their seemingly aimless plights. "All over the map?" "Lost?" The movie was mirroring the book on which it was based. It should be all over the road, because that's what the story is about. "On the Road" doesn't follow a traditional three-act structure, and it's not meant to. Once I had that lightbulb moment I began to settle into what, after the first half hour or so, became a captivating journey which so entrapped me in its grasp that by the closing credits I was crushed at having to bid adieu to this crew.
The film, like the novel, is told in first person from the perspective of Kerouac's alter ego Sal Paradise. The Second World War has just ended. Sal is a struggling New York writer (redundant?) in search of a story and he does what all authors are told -- he writes what he knows. But, aye, there's the rub. There's not much to mine. His sense of self isn't fully-formed yet, so he relies heavily on the advice and acceptance of his ne'er-do-well compatriot Dean Moriarty and a mix of lost souls stuck in the wandering generation between battle-scarred veterans and the yet-to-be Baby Boomers. Little defines them outside the mind-altering substances and jazz bars around which their lives revolve. Sal's was a life of sex and drugs and be-bop. He decides that the answers lie elsewhere, physically and metaphorically, so he heads out on the road -- in a quest for adventure and experiences to fill in the ellipses of his book and, in so doing, his mind.
As the narrator Sal, Sam Riley's perfectly underplayed performance helps define the movie. His cocky yet inquisitive nature allows him, and the viewer, to explore his curious relationships with a certain degree of acceptance. In so doing, we are less judgmental when encountering the often self-destructive exploits of Dean (Garrett Hedlund), sexual explorations of Carlo (Tom Sturridge), and Bohemian whims of Marylou (Kristen Stewart). Hedlund, Sturridge, and Stewart totally inhabit their characters. Marylou's role is significantly less vital in a male-centric story but Kristen Stewart pours everything she has into it. When Stewart is on screen she always delivers on her promise. Hedlund, even more than Riley, provides much of the heart and soul of the film. Sal sees his life more through Dean's druggy eyes than his own, and his emotions rise and fall on the occasional successes and, unfortunately, frequent failures of his beloved friend and mentor. One of the most unexpected surprises was the performance of British actor Tom Sturridge, almost unrecognizable as a free-spirited American poet seeking his sexual identity. His portrayal of Carlo Marx demonstrates why he's long overdue in entering the pantheon of our most talented young actors.
Critical in support, as the women who weave in and out of Sal's life, are Kirsten Dunst as Camille, Amy Adams as Jane, Alice Braga as Terry, and Elisabeth Moss as Galatea Dunkel. Pivotal male performances, although occasionally in a single scene along the way, are turned in by Viggo Mortensen, Steve Buscemi, Terrence Howard, and Rocky Marquette.
"On the Road" has the true look of a classic American indie from the start (and it's a France/Brazil co-production). Opening in late 1940s New York City, one can almost feel the gritty, grimy streets and smell the dirty, smoky air in the bars where the hipsters congregate. Within 15 minutes you feel like a good shower. Dim, single-point lighting enhances the mysterious, shadowy corners within which the characters lurk in search of meaning. The jazz soundtrack is perfectly matched to Sal's voice-over in iconic noir style.
Eric Gautier's passionate cinematography primarily relies on hand-held camera with extreme closeups. Together with François Gédigier's rapid-fire editing, the tight action and fast cuts emphasize the frenetic, manic episodes our protagonists experience. Once the crew hits the road, the viewer is treated to the occasional breathtaking shot of the American west in all its then-pristine pre-suburban glory. Long periods of quiet introspection are sprinkled throughout, the pace slows, and the viewer takes a breath and a mental pitstop before hitting the road again.
Emotions are all over the map as well, as Rivera's script turns poignant and sad one minute, comic the next, and often puzzling. But such is life in the world Kerouac creates, and we are just visiting. How can we fully comprehend everyone's actions when they don't understand themselves? Kerouac's novel helped define and inspire a generation to head out "on the road" and discover America and, in so doing, a piece of themselves. This filmed version has the potential to inspire a new generation to head out into the country's hinterlands -- there's still plenty of wilderness out there -- and discover something, whether within or without.
"On the Road" isn't just about a search for adventure in far off places. Not at all. It's also about a search for self, or selves in this case, and the characters aren't fully-formed because the people aren't. It's this reality that justifies the film's often rambling parallel story lines that are more stream-of-consciousness than linear narrative. But that's what Kerouac wrote, and Salles remains true to his vision. The book remains a classic. The movie does it justice.