Sem Limite

"this was not the last time I committed suicide..." That's such an amazing line. It's all about how you make certain choices that could make the world of difference in your future, how the road you have just chosen to take might not be the one that you most want -- but for some reason you take it anyways. That by one choice, you are killing a life that you might've had. It's a great movie! And the ending is wonderful! It's so bittersweet, so honest. It makes me wish that things were as easy as they were then. That like Neal Cassady, I could just drop everything, hop into a stolen car, and ride away --- doesn't matter where, just away.

Seeing that the whole movie is based on a letter from Neal Cassidy to Jack Kerouac, I reckon Stephen Kay did an excellent job of re-creating the essence that was Cassidy and his neer-do-well existence.

You felt for Neal (played very well by Thomas Jane ). He could almost taste the sweetness of a well balanced life - the honey at home the white picket fence the dog running around in the yard, but circumstance (his likings for the female of the species, penchant for stealing cars and his friendship with good 'ol HARRY [played brilliantly by KEANU REEVES]), just got in the way of true happiness.

The supporting cast give good all round performances, especially Claire Forlani as the girl of Cassidy's 'dreams'.

This movie catches the 'beat' excellently with great visuals and a Class A soundtrack.

Highly recommended.

You know, normally when you have a good script and excellent

actors on your project, you can turn out something decent, good or

great...even when you, as the director, believe you're talented and

think you know what you're doing. But so far as "The Last Time I

Committed Suicide" is concerned, Stephen T. Kay flat out ruined

this movie, and it is damn near unforgivable.

Here we have a screenplay filled with some of the most wonderful

dialog you can imagine being delivered by a troupe of wonderful

actors. Thomas Jane gives a star making turn as Neal Cassady,

and he is backed up with a startlingly naturalistic and cozy turn by

Keanu Reeves as his drunk buddy, Harry. But could you enjoy the

beautiful rhythm of their work? Noooooooooo. By God, Mr. Kay

was going to remind you every step of the way that he is

DIRECTING this film and you are going to pay attention to that fact,

come hell or high water.

I mean, here we have a quiet intense drama about a charismatic

man who inspired people like Jack Kerouac and Alan Ginsberg,

and the director uses every trick in "The MTV Bible of Pseudo

Filmography" to hide that fact and (supposedly) make it palatable

for the ADD generation. You got your jump cuts and edits every .9

seconds and odd angles and pretty inserts and on and on and on

until I finally wanted to scream at the screen, "Take a F*****G

valium!" Drama has to unfold; it cannot be force fed down your

gullet because the man making the movie thinks you're too easily

distracted to give a damn about the characters.

I've only seen one other movie where the director completely

destroyed a wonderful script -- "A Chorus of Disapproval"

(although if "While You Were Sleeping" had had any other actress

in the lead besides Sandra Bullock, it would also fit in this cursed

category).

So...if you like your drama spit out in food fight fashion, then this is

the movie for you. But if you want anything approaching reality,

check out something like "La Dolce Vita" by Federico Fellini, who

has more style in his right pinkie than in all of Stephen T. Kay's

body.

To appreciate this film the viewer needs either to be in a jazzy, rebellious sort of mood, or have some interest in Neal Cassady, an American who figured heavily in the development of the "beat generation" of the 1950s.

Set in the 1940s during one notable period of Cassady's life, the film is mostly a character study of Cassady (Thomas Jane), and his relationship with other people in his life, including his friend Harry (Keanu Reeves) and various romantic interests, the central one being Joan (Claire Forlani).

But Cassady was a quirky kind of guy, a rebel, a nonconformist, fun loving, with a restless energy, a person constantly on the move, both physically and philosophically. As presented in the film, he is a cross between James Dean and Jim Morrison.

Cassady's offbeat personality is mirrored in the film's offbeat style. It's shot partly in color and partly in B&W. Plot structure seems deliberately chaotic, frenetic, loose. Jump cuts can be jarring for viewers expecting a smoothly flowing, linear plot. And the tone alternates between silly and philosophical. Background music is mostly jazz with some blues thrown in. Accordingly, a lot of viewers will find the film's unorthodox style off-putting.

But I liked it, for the most part. The plot would have been stronger if it had focused on Cassady's 1950s relationship with other historical figures, like Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg, instead of his romances with random women. Otherwise, the cinematography, the music, and the performance of Thomas Jane are terrific.

Seeing this film for the first time is like being introduced to that friend or lover you always dreamed about. Neal Cassady, the hero of Jack Kerouac's On The Road and Visions Of Cody, comes to life on the screen, having the same effect as James Dean used to; as the old cliche goes: women want him, men want to be him. Taken from a letter Cassady wrote to good ol' Jack, the story meanders around the lives of Cassady, his pool hall boozer friend Harry, and his lovely but melancholy girlfriend Joan (played exquisitely by Claire Forlani, who is in my humble opinion one of the most beautiful and gifted people working in Hollywood today). So, not to give too much of the plot away, Neal manages to have his decisions made for him; whether this is by fate or by his own personality is left up to the viewer. Stephen Kay follows Cassady and recreates a legend before our eyes. And whoever discovered Thomas Jane deserves a big ol' kiss. The film delivers, and the spirit of the Beats once again is given a voice and, as it were, an image.