This film is a total drag. I had no idea Kerouac was such a loser. I honestly don't know what he had to complain about. Here he is, a famous writer, in bed with a gorgeous woman, surrounded by friends and the guy is miserable as hell. I have no sympathy for people like that. Plus he never stops drinking. I guess being a writer the booze is just an occupational hazard but still, I've never seen anyone drink that much! I know he died young as a result of alcoholism and that really doesn't surprise me now. Both he and Cassady had such sad endings. Perhaps there is a moral in there somewhere but I don't know what it is.
If you want to read a truly inspirational writer, who is often called the father of the beats, check out Henry Miller, who is mentioned in the film once or twice, as another writer who would up in Big Sur. Now Miller knew how to live. He never let depression beat him. The man was a force of nature. Forget about Kerouac and Burroughs, these guys had serious issues. Henry Miller is yr man. Reading his material never fails to lift my spirits. As for the film, watch it for the scenery and a semi-nude Kate Bosworth, that's about all it's good for.
