On the Road

Adapting Jack Kerouac’s On The Road for the big screen has been a long time coming, and it was only a matter of whom would possess the courage—and perhaps a dash of martyrdom—to do so. Finally, Walter Salles has taken a shot at the long-deemed-unfilmable novel, and as would have been the case regardless the director, the film is going to garner a wide array of reactions. To Kerouac fans: proceed with caution. The authenticity of the film’s Beat flavor is mild at best. To everyone else: don’t look too deep, and the sexy surface will entertain marvelously for a couple of hours.
Salles’ film spins all over the place, but since there’s no specific plot, it never spins out of control. Like the book, it just keeps rambling in a forward direction, flying back and forth across the country in following the adventures of Sal Paradise, Kerouac’s semi-autobiographical protagonist played by British up-and-comer Sam Riley. It’s full of drug-fueled nights that usually end in gritty sex, pulsing jazz to keep pace with the amphetamines, and impetuous conversation brooding over what it means to be alive. And that’s about the extent of the narrative.
Absent of any real plot, the film hinges on its character development. When Sal first leaves New York to live on the road with seductive ringleader Dean Moriarty (Garrett Hedlund) and his 16-year-old bride Marylou (Kristen Stewart), the characters hardly know themselves. But their escapades are mirrors for their inner journeys, and like diamonds being polished, their characters slowly become more defined. It’s not difficult to psychoanalyze from the get-go, but it’s still fun to watch them figure out themselves and each other, and after riding around in the car with them for two hours, the depth of understanding that is reached is satisfying.