A story of the death of the 60s and dread of the 70s that may have been buried inside of Thompson's book is drowned under the weight of four writers pasting bits and pieces of said book into a movie script. The bright lights of Vegas and occasionally funny bits deliberately and sharply slam to a halt as the film reaches its end. Somewhere near the edge of Barstow, the drugs begin to take hold. Poppers to maintain. People turn into lizards.
Patterns flow from the hotel carpets up the wallpapered halls.
It is only here that the paranoia and comedy come blissfully together. With a cigarette holder clenched between his teeth, Duke narrates the entire proceedings which move from Beverly Hills to Vegas hotels to diner dives on the outskirts of town. Fear and Loathing gets real tired, real fast. On average, a first run movie ticket will run you Eight Bucks. Were Cranky able to set his own price to Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, he would have paid . . .