Oh My God, You Sound Famous Already.

Jeffrey Wright fest! It would appear that we announce a festival in honour of an artist when we hit three films that they have been involved with. And unless he popped up in something the I didn't recognise, this is Wright's third appearance after this and this. We do love him so.

Basquiat was a bit of a breakout for Mr Wright, despite much acclaimed stage work (including Angels In America, a role he reprised on television.) And it's a beautifully juicy role to be given, a biopic of artist Jean-Michel Basquiat, friend of Warhol, major acclaim, kooky, rags to riches, all that business. And a seriously cool cast alongside you - Benicio Del Toro, Claire Forlani, Michael Wincott, David Bowie, Dennis Hopper, Gary Oldman, Christopher Walken, Willem Dafoe, Parker Posey, Courtney Love, Tatum O'Neal... wow. Plus! A film about an enfant terrible of the art world directed by an enfant terrible of the art world! What more could you want?


Basquiat (Wright) is a druggie, living rough, earning some notoriety for his graffiti work as Samo and the phrases he sketches on streetscapes. He works in an art gallery run by Mary (Posey), hanging paintings with an electrician also trying to make his way as an artist (Willem Dafoe) while Mary and her client, Albert (Oldman) abuse him until he walks out on them. He does some sketches and, with his friend Benny (Del Toro), manages to convince Andy Warhol (Bowie) and his manager Bruno (Hopper) to purchase these sketches - Warhol, in his terrific deadpan manner, comments after Basquiat's departure that they're actually good. Eventually, art dealer Rene Ricard (Wincott) spots one of his paintings at a party and tracks down Basquiat. The artist, still doing copious amounts of drugs as he tries and succeeds in romancing waitress Gina (Forlani), is quickly turned into a star, though on the way he burns many, many of his closest allies, including Rene and Gina. The destructive clinicism of Warhol's artistic cynicism starts to wear him down, and with no one there to say no, Basquiat spirals downwards.

Wright as Basquiat is fantastic, fully inhabiting the fear and fearlessness of success, the stoic drive behind the fragile artist, the self-belief and arrogance mixed with a paranoia that he might fade as fast as he rose. The supports, especially Oldman, Wincott and particularly Bowie, are terrific. Bowie as Warhol is almost scary in his disconnect from the world around him. Whether or not he is a perfect Warhol portrayer, he is perfect for this film.


It has been noted that the film can be seen as much as being about director Schnabel - I don't know a great deal about either artist outside of a decent knowledge of their work and where they fit into their respective movements, but even I picked up on distinct similarities between the characterised Basquiat and the real Schnabel. His pyjama wearing, for example. But whether or not the film is accurate to the truth of Basquiat's life, it doesn't really matter anyway. The film is an artwork by Julian Schnabel taking Basquiat's life as a leaping-off point, and like any great work of art it is not just technique but the emotion put into it, and that emotion is always going to be drawn from the artist themselves. So rather than seeing the film as a biopic, it is probably instead best to view it as a fictional narrative built around the basics of the artist, interpreted through the eyes of another artist who obviously holds the character in high regard.


But does the film work? In many ways, yes. The riveting performances and great cameos keep you watching and caring, despite the fact that Basquiat is in many ways repugnant once he gains his fame. But the film does not reach the heights of Schnabel's later The Diving Bell And The Butterfly, or even his Before Night Falls. It is, however, a solid debut and an interesting take on an artist's story. 3 stars.

I Think I'm Getting The Fear.

Oh, to be inside Terry Gilliam's head. Actually, scratch that. I think it would probably be terrifying. So, oh to be in Hunter S Thompson's head. Wait, no, scratch that too. God knows what state it's in these days.

Obviously, the film where these two crazy minds converge is 1998s Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas, a awe-inspiring trip into autobiographical roots exploring an absolutely enormous amount of drugs in the grotesque haven of Las Vegas. Johnny Depp plays Raoul Duke, the Thompson character, with Benicio Del Toro playing his attorney sidekick Dr Gonzo, based on Oscar Zeta Acosta, Thomspon's attorney at the time. The two power into LV with a boot full of everything and anything you can imagine, scaring young hitchhiker Tobey Maguire with visions of bats and incidents with a handgun, before landing to cover a race of some kind for Sports Illustrated, which ended up being part of a much larger work for Rolling Stone. Whilst in the gambling mecca they also find themselves covering a District Attorney's conference - just what you need when you're popping that much shit. The descent into the madness of their drugfuelled hysteria and crazed delusions is mindboggling in its scope and depth. The sheer magnitude of the lunacy of the picture lends immense credence to the reality of the situation the two created for themselves. It goes so far past believable it crosses back into the realm of possibility simply because something that far gone can only come from a place of truth.


Gilliam has a very singular vision and style to his films. They basically look like the work of a lunatic, someone probably dropping as much acid as those crazy kids on their Las Vegas roadtrip. Visually exciting and arresting, he lets the performances from his leads drift into absolute anarchy, ramping up the histrionics to eleven and keeping them there for the entire show. Depp's mania is intense in a way rarely seen, and never kept up for such an extended period. His eyes, big to begin with, look set to take over his face - an effects shot that would have looked particularly at home in Fear And Loathing. Del Toro continues on his quest during the late 1990s to show that he is a force to be reckoned with in showbusiness, culminating in his Oscar a couple of years later for Traffic. Ellen Barkin, Christina Ricci and even Cameron Diaz pop up to show their support for these characters so immersed in the darkest recesses of their minds that they barely even register their own presence, let alone these smaller characters.


The continuous repetition of the drug-addled state Duke and Gonzo threatens to become too much to bear, to become monotonous and over-the-top, but manages to just keep itself together by sheer force of will and the cinematic presence of the charismatic leads. A great combination that makes for one of the scarier films you'll probably see in your time. 4 stars.