Bilge Ebiri outlines Kill Your Darlings, a new romantic thriller about the interlocking lives of Beat icons Allen Ginsberg, Lucien Carr, Jack Kerouac, and William Burroughs:
Together, the four of them begin to breathlessly explore the creation of a new creative movement, to be called the New Vision, which will rejuvenate American literature and tear down the stuffy, hidebound morality and culture all around them. The nation might think it’s fighting fascism abroad, but these guys are convinced the real fascists are here at home, hiding in the ironclad poetic rules of meter and rhyme, and in the sexual mores governing society. “Let’s make the patients come out and play,” they proclaim. “We need new words, new rhythms!”
What’s that you ask? Oh, right, the murder. While all this is happening, there’s also an older gentleman by the name of David Kammerer (Michael C. Hall), who expresses a bit too much fondness for Lu [Carr]. For all his sophistication, the man is clearly obsessed, pathetically, with this beautiful young boy. He also appears to have given Lu some of his bolder ideas, so the notion of said ideas now being shared with the likes of Ginsberg and Kerouac (all of whom Kammerer sees as potential romantic rivals) clearly drives him nuts. The film opens with Lu dropping Kammerer’s bleeding body into a river, so I’m not really spoiling anything when I say that the story builds up to the older man’s death. Is it a murder, or a blood sacrifice in the name of art? Is he the darling being killed, or is there something more symbolic going on here?
Andrew O’Hehir considers Darlings a solid entry in the recent wave of Beat Generation films, including 2010’s Howl, last year’s On The Road, and the upcoming Big Sur, which hits theaters next week:
One could argue that “Kill Your Darlings” could use a bit more unpredictable or hostile Ted Cruz energy, some sense of the threat the young Beats (who didn’t call themselves that until the ‘50s) posed to the social order. … But despite its unsure moments, “Kill Your Darlings” has considerable advantages over both Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman’s “Howl” and Walter Salles’ ambitious, hit-and-miss adaptation of Kerouac’s iconic “On the Road,” which featured Sam Riley and Kristen Stewart. For one thing, it actually has a plot, a crisp, compact (and mostly true) narrative that unfolds during the latter years of World War II, when Ginsberg first came to New York and met Lucien Carr.
But Jordan Larson suggests that all of these films have missed the mark:
[W]hat’s most problematic about these films isn’t their artistry but their authenticity. … One could argue that these films are only trying to honor the spirit of the Beat Generation, but can you separate the “essence” of a story or a movement from what its progenitors really said and did, and at what point in their lives? Neal Cassady and Jack Kerouac were grown men who were also alcoholics, misogynists, and womanizers who killed themselves with substance abuse. Pretending Kerouac’s life was some sort of consequence-free dream not only does a disservice to viewers, but to the Beats, as well.
A.A. Dowd has mixed feelings about the new film but lauds the depiction of the young, brilliant lovers:
The saving grace of Kill Your Darlings is its sordid romantic angle, a narrative thread that pulls the film away from wink-wink allusions and into more serious emotional territory. At heart, this is a love triangle, one that drops a smitten Ginsberg between the charismatic Carr and the latter’s stalkerish benefactor, David Kammerer, similarly bewitched by the young, sexually ambiguous heartbreaker. Even before the scenario explodes into violence—culminating in a true-crime climax built from hard fact, hearsay, and invention— [director John] Krokidas has mined it for fine speculative melodrama.
The Dish 