There really is nothing like that moment when the unformed, eager student happens upon the teacher who, knowingly or not, unleashes the fiery spirit within the pupil. For budding artists, this moment is particularly palpable—it's something never to be forgotten. There's nothing quite as intoxicating as finding a mentor who not only "gets you" but who also can't wait to impart what he or she knows you are dying to learn and to experience; a person to expand your horizons and help you articulate your dreams.
For budding poet Allen Ginsberg—winningly portrayed by Daniel Radcliffe in out writer-director John Krokidas' debut feature, Kill Your Darlings—desire amplified the intoxication. Ginsberg would become the most celebrated of the Beat poets thanks to his gay screed "Howl" but in 1944 he was just starting out as a freshman at Columbia University, unsure of his talent, his future and, certainly, about his gay yearnings. Yet as the film makes abundantly clear, all those things were crystalized for the dark-haired, Jewish Ginsberg when he was taken up by fellow classmate Lucien Carr ( Dane DeHaan ), a blond, WASPY rich boy who advises him with brash confidence that "life is only interesting when it gets wider."
The withdrawn Allen—already a misfit at the intellectually and socially superior Columbia, given his minority status and economic background—is instantly smitten. When Luc takes Allen to a party he practically shrinks when confronted by the other confident dandies he encounters, each doing his youthful best to parade his smarts and individualism. The party's host, the sneering David Kammerer ( Dexter's Michael C. Hall ), is the most withering in his criticism of Allen—no doubt because he's jealous of the link between Ginsberg and Luc, who, it turns out, is his one-time lover.
As the relationship between Allen and Luc blossoms, with Luc advocating for rebellion at every turn to the dazzled Allen, David becomes more jealous. A not-so-subtle love triangle forms even before Allen and Luc can consummate their friendship ( and it's clear that Allen is dying to do just that ). There have also been plenty of danger signs about Luc's erratic character, which Allen purposely ignores, and no amount of warnings from his other new friends—the acidic, scratchy-voiced William Burroughs ( a spot-on Ben Foster ) or the handsome womanizer Jack Kerouac ( Jack Huston )—can get through.
Things reach a boiling point and, in a pivotal sequence, Luc kills David. ( Krokidas contrasts this with the sexually frustrated Allen picking up his first trick and being taken from the rear just as Luc is stabbing David to death. ) When Luc is arrested he claims justifiable homicide, insisting that it was an "honor killing" because David was preying on him sexually. This line of defense was actually used in the real case ( and in many others during this period ) and was considered a valid reason for committing murder. Luc begs Allen to back up his story ( although, apparently, he doesn't really need his corroboration ) and Allen wrestles with his decision—the framing device for the movie. Are the passionate friendship and his unbridled attraction to his mentor strong enough for Allen to lie for Luc?
Krokidas palpably shows the allure of a tarnished angel like Luc and, though we are watching a history lesson ( the film is based in fact ), there's a suspenseful moment when it's easy to forget the actual outcome. The movie is helped by its period art direction and music ( and even the intrusion of a modern-day song on the soundtrack isn't enough of an anachronism to throw one out of the picture for long ). It's also shot in the murky, desaturated Technicolor of the period mostly in close-ups and midshots that keep us near enough to the actors that their every sigh and gesture speaks volumes.
But for all this attention to detail—an enormous aid to the story—along with some wonderful performances ( Radcliffe, as noted, is very winning and Jennifer Jason Leigh as Allen's mentally distributed mother is particularly fine )—the movie doesn't quite hang together. Part of that, I think, is because I wanted the actor in the role of Luc to be physically and emotionally irresistible. DeHaan is very good and he's certainly easy on the eyes, looking like a young Leonardo DiCaprio. But he's not quite the alluring object of desire ( to my eye, anyway ) that would make Ginsberg's hero worship more believable, not to mention the possibility that he would continue being enthralled by his young mentor after his would be lover committed murder.
Also, the little-known "honor killing" defense used by Luc's lawyers opened a door that just wouldn't close for me. As soon as this horrific line of defense was mentioned in the film, I wanted that explored in much more detail instead of being tossed in as an afterthought.
But those hesitations aside, Kill Your Darlings is a very well-made film that gives us a peek into the formation of several future gay icons. Although Ginsberg is taught by a writing professor at Columbia that "there can be no creation without imitation," Krokidas' film easily begs to differ with that repellent opinion.
Of related interest: It's a double dose of homoerotic Hitchcock when the Gene Siskel Film Center, 164 N. State St., programs both Rope and Strangers on a Train. Rope is a 1948 variation on the infamous Leopold and Loeb murder case ,in which two gay college lovers committed a murder just for the intellectual stimulation. That's playing Friday, Nov. 1, at the Siskel at 6 p.m. while Hitchcock's 1951 film Strangers on a Train—in which two men meet on said train and one, who is clearly gay, suggests that the two switch murders and goes ahead with the plan before the other figures out what he's up to—is playing Saturday, Nov. 2, at 3:30 p.m. Rope plays again that day at 5:30 p.m.
The former is renowned for being shot in only eight elongated takes—in essence, a stage play—but it has grown in stature while the latter is a masterpiece of suspense and contains the one great screen performance of Robert Walker Jr., who died not long after shooting ended. www.siskelfilmcenter.com
