"Neal Cassady" is a film for those so immersed in Beat Generation personalities, one more film merely bears out consumption of all available subject matter. It reveals nothing and does so in a manner that leaves the viewer feeling burned. One could alternately imagine 80 minutes of raw snippets from Ken Kesey's film record of the Furthur bus trip. ...A worthwhile metaphor incorporated in Buschel's film; lost in the context of vignettes haphazardly suspended like ornaments on a dessicated Christmas tree.
The film handily returns latent hipsters transfixed on 60s moonbeams to Earth. An end to which the director/writer succeeds with supererogation reminiscent of health class.
Self-destructive behavior paralleled Beat literature. Exploring the relationship between art and disaffected artist is a purpose this film glaringly avoids.
As much as the film parodies post-Beat Kerouac idolaters, it cannot redeem itself from the charge of exploiting their pitfall.
The film handily returns latent hipsters transfixed on 60s moonbeams to Earth. An end to which the director/writer succeeds with supererogation reminiscent of health class.
Self-destructive behavior paralleled Beat literature. Exploring the relationship between art and disaffected artist is a purpose this film glaringly avoids.
As much as the film parodies post-Beat Kerouac idolaters, it cannot redeem itself from the charge of exploiting their pitfall.