Withnail & I

The 60s was such that nobody was really quite sure what was going on. Everybody was taken quite by surprise that something was going on. So, as a result all the recollections are of a time that had just disappeared; Spat out into the sad 1970's. All the idealists had to say something profound and just ended up communicating a sense of loss. Withnail and I is a British version of Fear and Loathing. Being British, the description of excess is filled with infinitely more self-loathing and significantly less of a feeling of entitlement.
That said, the brilliant exposition of dank English grime made me miss that horrible country all the more. At least in England you feel like you are somewhere of import. The dreadful closeness juxtaposed with brilliant pastoral countryside made the period seem wonderfully incongruous. Jimmi Hendrix ushered us in and out of London which was the only place the revolution ever made it to while it was still fresh. The English country-side then as now remains firmly planted in post war austerity and an imagined remnant of King George.

I wish I could say more but it made me feel sad and happy at the same time. The drug dealer Danny was the fool and thus was best able to sum up the sentiment of the film:

"If you're hanging on to a rising balloon, you're presented with a difficult decision - let go before it's too late or hold on and keep getting higher, posing the question: how long can you keep a grip on the rope? They're selling hippie wigs in Woolworths, man. The greatest decade in the history of mankind is over, and as Presuming Ed here has so consistently pointed out, we have failed to paint it black. "

3 1/2 stars