Big Sur destroys Jack Kerouac’s legend, revealing the beatnik icon to be a self-pitying, self-absorbed alky. Generations of young romantics were awestruck by the celebrated author, pining for his life On The Road. I’ve long been one of those romantics, so was eager for a peek. But, as it’s said, never meet your heroes.
Kerouac was a literary superstar off one book – On The Road. Big Sur was another novel of his, inferior and more autobiographical than On The Road, and full of turgid writing. We went here and then we went there. Everywhere they went, they went to get drunk. Kerouac conflated drunkenness with sophistication.
The other fascination of Big Sur is its primary setting, Big Sur itself, an edenic and revered place. Unfortunately, Michael Polish’s film is largely Big Sur noir: drained of color, dark and depressed.
Kerouac fans might want to steer clear, but for Big Sur fans, this is a must-see, albeit disappointing, movie.
Jean-Marc Barr disappoints playing the disappointing Jack Kerouac, too bad for him.
“Emotional constipation” declares the great Jack Kerouac, which the film suggests with cello music.
RANDOM NOTES
Jack Kerouac was a raging alcoholic, an accepted and emulated form of existence among the beatniks.
Sexual politics: Jack Kerouac was fatally attractive to women for his money as much as for his writing. Thus, they saw the fact that he couldn’t commit to marriage as a lifestyle F-U as much as a romantic one.