The Source

The Source

Rating: FULL SKULL BABY! FULL SKULL BABY! FULL SKULL BABY! FULL SKULL BABY! empty skull, sniff.
Release Date: 05 July, 2000

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The Source Reviews


The Glory of the Beatniks. FULL SKULL BABY! FULL SKULL BABY! FULL SKULL BABY! FULL SKULL BABY! empty skull, sniff.
This movie is a fast ride and a lot of fun. It is the furthest thing from a slow-moving documentary. The technical style and flair would appeal to practically any viewer. The Source is glossy and gorgeous. The director's clout is also impressive. Johnny Depp gives a performance monologue as Jack Kerouac and John Torturro gives an emotional reading from "Howl." Dennis Hopper imitates Burroughs as well later in the film. Their efforts are impressive.

Just to let the skeptics out there know, there is no room for doubt in this documentary. The beats are heroes and saviors--and not much else is considered. That some of them were minor talents is brushed over. Massive beat generation fans would give it five stars. A totally sanitized version of William S. Burroughs is presented, and it is implied that Kerouac was only a heterosexual, which is something that most commentators would regard as dubious. The film's attitude towards drug use is rather slanted. One memorable quotation was, "you can overdose on anything including sushi." Well no, not really.

It does not matter though, the movie is an amazing sprint and it succeeds in making itself impossible to turn off.

A good introduction to Beat influence, but very broad FULL SKULL BABY! FULL SKULL BABY! FULL SKULL BABY! empty skull, sniff. empty skull, sniff.
A documentary that wears its heart on its sleeve, "The Source" is a great collection of archival clips and contemporary interviews. It overreaches trying to connect all of the movement's reference points from Herbert Huncke to Henry Rollins -- the final half hour is a dizzying mix of quick cuts and fleeting words -- though it certainly does indicate the breadth of Beat syle, the film takes on a very slapdash quality. The admirable recreations of Ginsberg, Kerouac and Burroughs seem unncessary when there's so much available footage, especially in a film that runs only 90 minutes. Still, ten seconds of Neal's madcap jitterbugging is worth all the well-intentioned homage. (One final sticking point: an all-inclusive overview of Beat influence that doesn't include Patti Smith, Tom Verlaine or Richard Hell isn't really complete, is it?) Workman did do his archival digging, however, and the final scenes of Ginsberg reading his own words on Time Square marquees is inspired.

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