we're supposed to be witnessing the birth of a great journalist, but Hunter S. Thompson, as his career went on, got swallowed up by his mystique as an outlaw of excess. In The Rum Diary, that myth becomes an excuse for a movie to go slumming
the voice issue is what troubles the film as well, but in more significant ways - Thompson found his, "Rum Diary" never does. That might have been a death sentence for the movie had not Depp been in such good form
the fact is that while Depp's star power and money got this film made, they also mean the movie feels less like an actual film and more like retroactive setup for "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," not just in Depp's performance, but in the tone and tenor
jazzy and colorful, full of men and women in swell clothes driving cool cars, The Rum Diary has a bit of a seedily exotic Graham Greene vibe, and Robinson moves things along at a nice, casual clip, even in the film's more overheated moments
by Colin Covert [Minneapolis Star Tribune ]
by James Rocchi [MSN Movies ]
by James Berardinelli [ReelViews ]
by Steven Rea [Philadelphia Inquirer ]
by Bill Goodykoontz [Arizona Republic ]
