Share

Kill Your Darlings

Kill Your Darlings | John Krokidas | October 18th, 2013

Destroy The Old, Build The New.  The ‘New Vision’ comes to life on screen in Kill Your Darlings. A faithful account of drugs, sex, murder, and philosophy all bundled in a collective tale of the Beat movement’s beginning. Director John Krokidas helms his first feature film, doing a superb job of drawing the audience’s mind into the dirty streets of 1940’s Manhattan.

While most of the world was at war, the freshman classes of universities ruled the scholastic front, students absorbing their education under the looming fear of being drafted. These young minds had the benefit of the authority’s eye being focused overseas, bolstering intellectualism and a retaliation against conservatism with vibrant opportunity.

This film marks Daniel Radcliffe’s second outing after completing Harry Potter, previously starring in The Woman in Black (2012). I almost feel like I’m doing him a disservice by mentioning his wizarding past, but I will, and in the best of lights. He has grown up in a big-budget spotlight of truly unprecedented proportions, with his character identity rivaling the likes of Luke Skywalker. This epic fanfare presents it’s own challenge of avoiding typecasting and shedding the past. How does Radcliffe fair? To put it plainly, he completely excels in his role, portraying poet Allen Ginsberg, the Beat extraordinaire. He completely distances himself from his former image and casts any doubts within the first few scenes,  particularly one when Ginsberg returns home to see his mother near the beginning of the film. Radcliffe was the original choice for the role, but due to scheduling conflicts with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (2011), he almost lost the casting to Chris Evans and Jesse Eisenberg.

The amazing part is that as good as Daniel performs, he is actually overshadowed by Dane DeHaan, who plays Lucien Carr. Talk about a twisted soul, Lucien has been maddened by the relentless stalking of alleged abuser David Kammerer (Michael C. Hall). DeHaan invariably cements both the witty, adventurous side of the young man and his unmasked tragedy as well. When DeHaan and Radcliffe are on screen together, the unspoken and often awkward attraction between the two characters is truly convincing. It doesn’t matter what sexual orientation you are; you will recognize the queazy, uneasy feeling of when you didn’t know which way was up. One of my complaints is that Michael C. Hall could have been better utilized, though it would alter the flow of the film. The problem is that there are really two separate story lines to follow, even though one is essentially the intended backbone of the film. Some may find it hard to pick what to focus on in order to make sense of things, cohesiveness eluding.  Even though the film is about the events leading up to Kammerer’s death, we don’t get much of him on screen save for a brilliantly delivered monologue by Hall in the beginning. Was this intentional? Perhaps he was less of a man to Lucien at this point, and more of a spectre looming it’s darkness across his life. Their previous relationship is merely hinted at, leaving the viewer to use their imagination. While far less vocal by nature, Ben Foster‘s portrayal of the characteristically dry William Burroughs is also great, providing many genuine moments and a good asset to the ensemble.

I have seen a few other critics complain that the events were poorly adapted and didn’t “do the Beats justice.” While I maintain that there could have been a bit more information, I largely dispute this. Too much background detail would have been a terrible thing. I didn’t walk into the theater expecting a Contemporary Lit. lecture on the Beat Movement, I expected an entertaining and emotionally jarring film, which is what I got. Filmed on a budget undoubtedly fractional in comparison to a Hollywood blockbuster, Krokidas did extremely well with polishing up things from a technical and cinematic perspective. Certain scenes employ visual interpretation of drug use that feel mundane enough to be real. There’s nothing like seeing Ginsberg on uppers sporadically writing and furiously masturbating. Moments like that give the film a sort of flat-yet-charming humor, in a story that certainly isn’t humorous. Other interesting choices were peppered contemporary music tracks, like TV on the Radio’s “Wolf Like Me”, perhaps a nod to Ginsberg’s famous ‘Howl’, amidst the roaring resurgence of jazz.

Underlying the script and plot are the sociopolitical issues dealing with homosexuality in the 1940’s, in a time when killing a man for making homosexual advances was “honorable”. Director John Krokidas is openly gay, and I think it’s worthy to note how the film features a truthful portrayal of the struggle against conservative philosophy and the history of discrimination. The odd societal denial is directly challenged through Jack Huston‘s character Jack Kerouac, and his apparent lack of regard for the social norm of the period. That said, it’s almost craftily done, and many times it’s less of the actual gay characters, but the more minor ones revealing the, now alien, denial. Gay rights have progressed rapidly in recent years, but so have stereotypes and stigmas associated, especially in entertainment. This is not a “gay” film, it’s just a film with people,  some of which who happen to be gay.

Kill Your Darlings isn’t perfect, but it features extraordinary performances by it’s cast, and is an awesome freshman directorial effort, to say the least. There is a lot of emotion to feel here, and a story definitely worth exposure sits waiting. I can only hope that after people watch this film, they are inspired to go research the Beat movement in greater detail, because the work of Allen Ginsberg and the other poets had a vital impact on our entire culture…including the fact this film even exists.

Rating: 7.5/10


Join the conversation