Typically, coming-of-age stories unfold in a predictable fashion: kid
tentatively ventures into the world beyond the one he knows, where he
encounters people and things that will change him and his outlook on
life forever. It would be easy to dismiss Kill Your Darlings as yet
another entry in a tired genre: the tale of a poet who finds his voice
through a heady cocktail of sex, drugs and college. But John Krokidas'
debut feature film, which takes as its subjects the American poets of
the revolutionary Beat Generation, fits in so much more, as it explores
a haunting search for life and legacy that teeters close to the edge of
Allen Ginsberg (Daniel Radcliffe) arrives at Columbia University keen
to start a life away from the shadow of his famous dad, poet Louis
Ginsberg (David Cross), and his mentally unstable mother (Jennifer
Jason Leigh). He meets the electrifying Lucien Carr (Dane DeHaan), a
rebel radiating so much charisma and ambition that it's easy to forget
his lack of actual talent. Lucien brings together the aspiring artists
who will soon come to change the literary world with their words:
Allen, William S. Burroughs (Ben Foster) and Jack Kerouac (Jack
Huston). As their lives intersect, their destinies intertwine, tangled
up in the form of David Kammerer (Michael C. Hall), a man hopelessly
caught in Lucien's enthralling spell.
Krokidas keeps this fascinating brew of hormones, hope and horror
bubbling throughout, effectively nailing the champagne fizz of youth: a
time when you could do ridiculous things, and remember them as romantic
and revolutionary. Allen yearns, Jack drinks, William sucks nitrous
oxide into his lungs in a bathtub, and Lucien keeps them all spinning.
You don't have to know the Beat poets or their work to recognise the
fire burning in these young men. Slicing and dicing pages of old
classics, the boys make their manifesto quite literal: they will not
rely on or succumb to tradition; their work will be conscribed by
neither rhyme nor meter.
The most intriguing thing about Kill Your Darlings is that it refuses
to romanticise this budding intellectual movement. The Beat poets may
have become the idols of literary hipsters everywhere, but Krokidas
takes care to tuck their ingenuity and creativity into the recognisable
rhythms of everyday life. Desperate to hang onto Lucien's interest,
Allen practically stumbles into his own talent. To create magic, he
jerks off in front of his typewriter, or stupidly ties a noose around
his neck to come a little closer to death. These young men, Krokidas
seems to be saying, are treading a fine line between inspiration and
tomfoolery. It's only when Allen recites a poem - on a moonlit night,
on a stolen boat - that Lucien is comprehensively struck by his genius,
as are we.
When the film spins into darker, more murderous territory, it moves
from coming-of-age story to crime thriller - a genre shift that, oddly,
works quite well within the universe established by Krokidas, as it
allows Allen to contemplate the darker, less palatable side of Lucien's
volatile personality. But it also becomes that much harder to separate
the facts of these characters from Krokidas' fiction. David's tragic
obsession with Lucien - one that the film suggests Allen could have
shared - finally kicks off a tragic twist of events that unfold in a
very particular way in Kill Your Darlings. Arguably, Allen ends up in
an emotional place in the film that doesn't quite sit right with what
actually transpired in real life, as told to us by a series of title
cards just before the end credits.
Less controversial is the young cast, all of whom do first-rate work in
disentangling the complex web of relationships that exists amongst
these characters. Radcliffe is still a mite stiff as an actor, but this
is his best on-screen performance yet: brave, bold, and proof that he's
willing to challenge anyone's ideas of what he can do on screen. DeHaan
is a firecracker as the capricious Lucien, burning so brightly that
it's no wonder the other characters can't tear themselves away from
him. Hall gets to sound a note of quiet desolation as David, whose
infatuation isn't played simply as the unrequited lust of a madman.
Only Elizabeth Olsen - as Jack's long-suffering girlfriend - is called
upon to play a stereotype.
All in all, Kill Your Darlings marks an impressive debut for Krokidas.
Shaken and stirred with a gloriously jazzy soundtrack and a colour
palette that shifts from light to murky in a heartbeat, the film
practically radiates tension both sexual and intellectual. It might
have a little trouble with the facts of the matter, but, taken on its
own merits, this is a smart, intoxicating look at how adolescent dreams
must necessarily give way to the chilling bite of reality.