After seeing the deeply flawed Requiem for a Dream, which many critics are raving about, I decided to check out a junkie film that works much better, Gus Van Sant's Drugstore Cowboy. The film portrays a small-time group of Portland, Ore. drug thieves that rob drugstores of their pharmaceutical supplies. Unlike Requiem for a Dream, this film communicates its anti-drug message with a sense of humor and humanity while developing its characters much more fully.

Similar to the antihero mode of Bonnie and Clyde, the film draws us into the characters as they pull off their drugstore heists. Heading up the gang is Bob (Matt Dillon), who has been going with his wife, Dianne (Kelly Lynch), since before high school. Also along for the ride are goofy Rick (James LeGros) and his immature blonde girlfriend, Nadine (Heather Graham).

Bob is the control freak, lying in the back seat by himself because he is well-known by the Portland police and because he'd be too hyper and drugged-out to drive well. But he's the mastermind behind the drug thefts, and orders his team to avoid putting hats on beds or talking about dogs so that they don't get a 30-day hex.

The gang of four moves from one seedy existence to another, leading lives of boredom in between heists by settling in and using up the preferred pills and narcotics. For these characters, this way of life provides the only excitement available and the only control they have over their lives. As Bob says, "Most people don't know how they're gonna feel from one moment to the next. But a dope fiend has a pretty good idea. All you gotta do is look at the labels on the little bottles."

And Bob makes it plain that he is a sophisticated and discriminating drug user, rejecting things like Demerol and getting excited over Dilaudid, the drugstore equivalent to high-grade heroin. Getting high and robbing provide the junkies their highlights; otherwise, they lead a drab existence of hanging around, watching TV, and talking about drugs. True to the junkie lifestyle, Bob doesn't even show much enthusiasm for sex—at least not while he's on drugs.

Without preaching, Drugstore Cowboy illustrates the expected lifestyle of the junkie. One of the more poignant scenes occurs right after the police have destroyed the gang's living quarters. This is when Bob gets rejected by his mother, who hurriedly hides all the money when she sees Bob and his friends drive up. It's not that she doesn't love her son, but she realizes Bob will do anything for money, and she stoically prevents him entering her home.

We also see how Bob's new "family" carries out its drugstore thefts, creating distractions such as faking epileptic seizures or wrecking cars in the parking lot while Bob sneaks behind the counter to collect the pharmaceuticals. The DVD commentary reveals that drugstore thefts like this are more frequent than is commonly known.

Much of the film rings true, from the little contact I've had with drug abusers. There are certain predictable patterns, and we see samples of all of them in Drugstore Cowboy—some characters will meet a tragic end, others will continue their nihilistic existence, and others will attempt to get out of the monotonous cycle through treatment. Van Sant's film reveals each of these scenarios without simplistic "Just Say No" campaigns.

The cinematography and set designs contribute to the feeling of ennui that occurs between robbery takes. Notice how many of the inside scenes involve shades of green that in one sense almost blend in with the predominant color of the Pacific Northwest itself. The blandness of the green color schemes contributes to the idea that the junkie thieves hardly lead glamorous lives.

Also communicating this sense of boredom are the trademark Van Sant time-lapse Oregon skyscapes that pass overhead as the gang waits for the next fix. I also enjoy the sense of creating home videos at the beginning and end of the film; in reality, these clips are film sequences captured by the actors on video camera. They add an additional layer of reality to the project. (Look closely at the final video sequence for a Van Sant cameo).

Like Bonnie and Clyde, this film can only work if its lead characters are likable, and Drugstore Cowboy scores well here. Matt Dillon's acting strengths suit the film magically, and he has never been better. Dillon plays the man-child perfectly, acting as the brains behind his limited group, but sounds like an elementary-school kid when he explains his rules to avoid being hexed. Showing depth of character has never been a strong point with Dillon, but he seems perfectly cast here as an eccentric-but-likable junkie, and his charisma carries us through the film.

The supporting ensemble cast performs effectively too, from the calculating Lynch, to the sensitive and goofy LeGros, to the innocent and none-too-bright Graham. Each is a distinct character that rises above the stereotypes we may have for junkies. For some added humor, we do get another character to play the hyperactive, non-thinking TV-generation boy (expertly played by Max Perlich). There are a few policemen scattered through the plot, most notably the narcotics agent Gentry (James Remar), who go beyond the stereotypical law enforcers that we usually see.

If nothing else, it's a real pleasure to see William S. Burroughs playing a defrocked priest, living in a rundown hotel at the end of his days. What a speech delivery Burroughs has with his deep, gravelly voice pausing and emphasizing in-di-vid-u-al syllables pointedly! OK, so it's just a cameo performance, but one of the most memorable ones in recent film history. Who better to represent a veteran druggie than this icon from the Beat generation?

I especially enjoyed two scenes with Burroughs as Tom the Priest. I chuckled a bit when Tom spreads a stash of drugs over his bed and separates one group out, remarks, "These are for squares," and selects a special drug to place on top of his Bible. The other scene occurs with a final, lonely shot of Tom looking out from his hotel window—you'll have to see it for the context, because I don't want to give away too much of the plot.


Although Drugstore Cowboy may be a little eccentric for some audiences, it explores the world of a junkie in a more accessible way than Trainspotting and far more than Requiem for a Dream. If you're looking to influence someone, and make him think, it requires providing believable scenarios and characters that probe meaningful territory. In that area, Drugstore Cowboy scores in a huge way, reminiscent of Jesus' Son.

The touches of humor (like the process of getting a dead corpse through a parking lot filled with sheriffs'-convention attendees), and the humanization of the junkies, make Drugstore Cowboy a worthwhile trip. If you're tempted to rush out and see Requiem for a Dream, push your pause button and rent this film instead for your junkie fix. Van Sant's film feels like the real deal, and goes far beyond being a flashy and simplistic poster child for the anti-drug campaign.