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I am amazed that so many people on this forum rate this movie as the pan-ultimate film regarding the 'Beat generation'. One comment even goes as far to state that "to a Kerouac/Cassady fan and fan of that era ( late 40s early 50s ) this is pure gold".

Why, I wonder. Because as far as a depiction of reality goes (and reading the raving messages on this forum to many the essence of this film is a fair picture of what actually took place), this film is a travesty if ever there was one. In my files I have (the translation of) an article written by Kenneth Turan in 1979 which contains an interview with the then 55 year old Carolyn Cassady. She says that when she first read the script (by John Byrum), she was taken aback by the untruthfulness's of it. Facts were distorted, characters twisted, and reading some of the dialogues, she said to herself: come off it, this is a sham! However, she was paid 70.000 dollars plus 2,5 percent of the nett turnover, which was as good deal as she might have expected, and soon enough she took to the script, false as it may have been. And why? "If this had been my real life, I'd have been satisfied with it". Also, she loves what Sissy Spaceck did with her part: "I am the true heroin of the story, what more could one want?" So much for character.

Interestingly, Alan Ginsberg refused to cooperate with the film and forbade the producer even to use his name or quote from his poetry. So the Alan Ginsberg character in the movie is called Ira Streiker.

I am 60 years old and read On the Road for the first time in 1969. Last month, forty years later, I read it again. It was a weird experience... Kerouac's prose is baffling, he truly was a great writer, but the experiences he describes in On the Road have no meaning whatsoever. Actually, Neal Cassady is a low life (Kerouac more than once refers to him as "a rat"). And no biopic can change that.

Considering all the comment about the "beat generation" US literary movement of the 1950's and 60's, it seems there's not much film examination of it. The only book of Kerouac's to be filmed so far was the confusing "The Subterraneans" in 1960, not an obvious candidate. This 1980 film is the only biopic of which I'm aware that follows the Kerouac/Neal & Carolyn Cassady saga. It's spotty and doesn't communicate a great deal of what "beat" literature claimed to have accomplished (if indeed anything WAS accomplished), but Nolte was born to play the role of Neal C., which performance alone seals the value of this film. The Cassadys were muses that helped generate Kerouac's impetus to write, and the rest is history.

Potentially fascinating topic, three of my all time favorite actors at their hottest, and complete bore. John Heard, who plays Jack Kerouac, tells a story about how amazing a young Jessica Lange was when she auditioned for this and Bynum dismissed her as 'just a model'. He brings the fine judgment to every project(see or rather, don't see 'Inserts' or 'The Razor's Edge'). I will give the most some credit for giving the Carolyn Cassidy unexpected agency in what easily could be a highbrow bromance. Sissy Spacek is very good and would win her Oscar for 'Coal Miner's Daughter' which came out the same year. See 'Chilly Scenes of Winter' or 'Cutter's Way' to see how wasted Heard is in this.

This was a find with On-Demand. The price was right (free)and I could watch it without leaving the house, so nothing was lost except time. That being said, this is probably a film that fans of Nick Nolte, Ray Sharkey and Beat Generation culture would enjoy. Nolte is in the waning days of his "pretty boy" phase, but he gives a gritty performance. Ray Sharkey's maniacal turn as Ira makes you wonder "what-if" all the more. The Beat Generation backdrop seems a little too clean at times, but it gets a fair shot. However, Sissy Spacek is handed a character that she can't do anything with. This comes from the overly broad brush strokes that the filmmaker uses, which leaves little room for Spacek to work.

All in all, not a bad film; just not one for the ages.

Writer director John Byrun's Hollywood whitewash of the Beat Generation completely ignores its most conspicuous trait, settling for routine conformity over the uninhibited freedom, which gave the movement its energy and impetus. Instead of following their example the film tiptoes respectfully through the rebellious antics of Jack Keruac and Neil Cassidy, in tepid portraits calculated not to offend anyone, least of all Carolyn Cassidy, whose memoirs inspired the film and whose blessing the makers obviously courted. Nick Nolte (as Cassidy) fares best, but only for lack of adequate comparison; John Heard's portrayal of Keruac makes the over-indulgent writer seem a confused but nice young man unable to measure up to his own legend, and Byrun apparently never bothered to give Sissy Spacek a character at all. Each is simply a two-dimensional reduction of a historical archetype, and none is able to save the film from cardiac arrest.