Thursday, March 20, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Editor's Note: The Doctor is not in

Hunter Thompson should be doing what Johnny Cash is doing right now: the best work of his career. Cash is an old man, he's seen a lot and done a lot, and he's pouring that wealth of hard-earned wisdom and experience into earnest, meaningful folk music that, in its sincerity and simplicity, blows away so much of what it competes against in the record store.

Thompson is a little younger than Cash, but still, by most any definition, a senior citizen. He's seen a lot in his 40 years as a reporter and writer, and done a lot, his "gonzo" approach to journalism and life often putting him in the mix rather than standing on the sidelines. And so, by Cash's standard, Thompson should be positioned to deliver terrific writing that informs, entertains and inspires readers.

Unfortunately, Thompson is not doing that. Instead, he has taken his many devoted readers for granted and abandoned the notion that his writing is about anything other than collecting a paycheck. His new book, Kingdom of Fear, is embarrassingly bad, a betrayal of at least two generations who saw Thompson as not only immensely entertaining, but a clear-eyed (despite the drugs) analyst of popular culture and American politics, capable of cutting through the shit to tell us how it really is.

Kingdom of Fear is being marketed as a memoir but that's an entirely too generous description. It's more of a cobbled-together mess of vague recollections, unfinished thoughts, press clippings, interviews, car and motorcycle magazine article reprints, outright gibberish and, very sporadically, snippets of coherent, solid reporting and analysis that, more than anything, make you angry that they are so fleeting.

Thompson takes off on a particular subject--usually some legal imbroglio he was involved in--and then abruptly changes the subject, not explaining why and rarely finishing the story. If there's a theme to the book, it's that the American judicial system is all fouled up, a conclusion Thompson draws largely from his own run-ins with cops and judges. And when his foggy head clears on occasion, he makes some compelling arguments along these lines.

The best section of Kingdom of Fear is Thompson's coverage of the U.S. invasion of Grenada in 1984. The straight reporting from the tiny island is highlighted by eloquent descriptions of Grenada's landscape, people and political history. After slogging through 200 pages of whatever, the 20-odd pages about Grenada come as welcome relief from the madness. At the same time, you are quickly reminded that Thompson wrotes those words almost 20 years ago--presumably before he completely lost his way.

But by and large, the biggest disappointment of Kingdom of Fear is that Thompson seems to have nothing he really wants to say. We live in deeply troubled times, a point Thompson mentions here and there, yet this book barely registers anything but a few sound bites of complaint.

I don't think it's overly dramatic to say that we need the old Thompson now as much as ever. With President Bush's brutal handling of international affairs, butchery of the Constitution and neglect of the U.S. economy, a coherent, angry Thompson could help raise public consciousness and make a difference as the country teeters on the precipice.

Thompson comes close to the idea of being relevant in a letter he wrote to a London newspaper in 2002 and reprints toward the end of the book:

"The news is bad today, in America and for America. There is nothing good or hopeful about it--except for Nazis, warmongers, and rich greedheads--and it is getting worse and worse in logarithmic progressions since the fateful bombing of the World Trade towers in New York. That will always be a festering low-water mark in this nation's violent history, but it was not the official birthday of the end of the American Century.

"No. That occurred on the night of the presidential election in the year 2000, when the nexus of power in this country shifted from Washington, D.C., to `the ranch' in Crawford, Texas. The most disastrous day in American history was Nov. 7, 2000. That was when the takeover happened, when the generals and cops and right-wing Jesus freaks seized control of the White House, the U.S. Treasury, and our Law Enforcement Machinery."

I could read that Hunter Thompson all day long--the Thompson who would crucify the likes of corporate warmonger Dick Cheney and holier-than-thou John Ashcroft, and explain in his hyperbolic way why we all need to Take Action and Not Let the Greedheads Win. But, sadly, that Thompson hardly shows up anymore.

Mercury at the movies

On a brighter note, this edition of the Mercury marks the arrival of a new film criticism team. Tony Allison, Jeannette Catsoulis and Robert Chancey, who recently worked across the valley at CityLife, are now on the Mercury's roster.

Allison is the undisputed dean of Las Vegas film critics. I worked with him several years ago at CityLife, and I can assure you he knows what he's talking about. Catsoulis and Chancey are equally respected for their knowledge and writing ability. One can expect this trio to deliver authoritative and insightful coverage of all the blockbusters and indie flicks coming through Las Vegas.

This is important: The arrival of Allison and his entourage should not be construed as a criticism of our outgoing movie-reviewing squad. The Full Metal Critic, our original reviewer, gave the average joe's perspective on popular film in an entertaining and informative way. His no-nonsense observations about action flicks, especially his careful recounting of the makes and models of weapons used by good guys and bad guys alike, will be missed by many readers. Bob Grimm, our workhorse for many months, gets his parting shot with this week's cover story on the Oscars. Bob is a great guy and a knowledgeable film critic. Reportedly, his reviews will continue to be available in Las Vegas in another venue, and that's good. Mike Prevatt, who has written many thoughtful reviews for us in recent months, will become part of the Allison posse.

--GEOFF SCHUMACHER