In 1996 at the pinnacle of his career, renowned author David
Foster Wallace (Jason Segel) agreed to a multi-day interview with Rolling Stone
journalist David Lipsky (Jesse Eisenberg), during the final leg of his press
tour promoting philosophical tomb, Infinite Jest.
With praises being heaped on him, including assertions the novel was one of the
great works of the 20th century, Wallace had become acutely aware of his own
burgeoning celebrity. It made him skittish. That the interview was agreed to at
all seems like a miracle. But thankfully it was agreed to, because now nearly
20 years later we have James Ponsoldt's The
End of the Tour, a moving, intimate examination of loneliness, fame, and
male ego delivered through two incredible lead performances.
Basically a two-hander (although there are
some solid supporting turns, too), the film takes place over the course of a
road trip from snowy Bloomington, Illinois to St. Paul, Minnesota. Lipsky, an
author who had completed his novel The Art Fair,
became fascinated with Wallace's Infinite Jest and pushed for the story over
editorial objections. In reality, the piece never ran for various reasons, and
Lipsky took the pages of conversational notes and wrote his own book on the
experience with Wallace. The story begins in 2008 as Lipsky has just learned of
Wallace's suicide, and the way he chose to deal with the shock was listening to
their hours of conversation, captured on cassette.
In essence one long discussion between two
neurotic, brilliant, complex, and flawed men, The End of the Tour bristles with
tension due to their competing agendas. It's fascinating to watch how they use
words as against and for one another, to attack and parry in an endless
swordfight for dominance. Lipsky in particular is at a constant struggle to
keep in check his admiration for Wallace, while at the same time jealousy is
just beneath the surface. He is everything Lipsky hopes to achieve, and yet
Wallace doesn't seem to appreciate or desire that kind of spotlight. Instead,
Wallace fears what the fame will do to him. He's terrified of how people will
judge him, and if celebrity will tarnish his credibility. At one point Wallace
laments, “I don’t want to appear in Rolling Stone as someone who wants to
appear in Rolling Stone”. He's also worried about this particular magazine
article, and how everything he says will be shaped and reformatted to make for
easily digestible reading to a mass audience. Is that really what he
wants his work to be all about? When Wallace begins to open up about the extent
of his loneliness and past substance abuse issues, it's impossible not to feel
the weight of the depression that would ultimately claim his life.
Wallace doesn't dare to reveal such personal aspects of his life
willingly; it's a long and winding road to the mutual understanding bordering
on friendship they eventually forge.
Don't go in expecting a lot of fireworks;
when these two argue it's a battle of sharp words that cut to the bone. But
this is a film that will appeal to more than just Wallace's fans, of which
there are many and they are rabid. In fact, there have been a few who knew him
who take issue with Segel's performance, saying it doesn't truly capture who Wallace
was. They also think Wallace would scream bloody murder at the very idea of a
movie on this subject, and perhaps they are right. But as someone who didn't
know anything about Wallace going in, and found his reflections on everything
from junk food to TV to women to creative authenticity utterly fascinating, it
made me want to learn more about all of his accomplishments. Much of the credit
goes to the screenplay adapted by Donald Margulies from Lipsky's novel. The
rest goes to the performances, in particular what is a career-defining turn by
Jason Segel. He's been dabbling in dramatic roles more often of late, but as
the bandana-wearing Wallace he has never been better. Engaging and affable yet
deeply conflicted, his Wallace keeps exposing new layers as the film rolls
along. And the same goes for Eisenberg's Lipsky, at times envious and in
complete awe of his counterpart. While there aren't many supporting roles to go
around, Joan Cusack, Anna Chlumsky, Mamie Gummer, and Mickey Sumner fill in
nicely as the few women interjecting themselves into the discussion, and even
influencing it in different ways.
Ponsoldt's directorial influence is to
simply sit back and let his actors do the work, and trust that it's more of a
skill than it seems. This counts as his third straight film in which substance
abuse is a component (Smashed, The Spectacular
Now), and all have approached the subject from a different, yet no less
revealing lens. There are a number of rewards to be found in The End of the Tour, and if one
of those leads to Wallace gaining a broader audience then hopefully he'd see
that as the good thing it most certainly is.
Rating: 4 out of 5
