The End of the Tour has a deceptively
simple plot. A magazine journalist goes
to interview a writer, has various discussions with him, and then leaves with
his story. The plot itself is nothing
great, I'd even call it rather average overall. It is neither revolutionary nor innovative in
its approach and does nothing to shake up its medium’s narrative structure,
unlike the writer’s own creation. Yet The
End of the Tour is a great film, and its greatness lies with its two lead
actors. Here is an extremely lowkey film
featuring two incredibly down-to-earth, relatable performances with fantastic
chemistry.
Note: This is my second review of The End of the Tour. Here's my original review from 2015, written back when the film first released.
The film tells the true story of Rolling Stone journalist David Lipsky’s (Jesse Eisenberg) five-day road tour interview with up-and-coming novelist David Foster Wallace (Jason Segel) after his recent publication of the critically acclaimed 1996 bestseller Infinite Jest. Lipsky—a writer himself who has found only modest success—is enviously skeptical at first of Wallace’s novel, yet after reading only a portion of it (responding ever so humorously with "s***."), quickly realizes the author's true genius potential. Convincing his editor to get him an interview, Lipsky quickly heads over to the frozen outskirts of Bloomington-Normal Illinois to meet and travel with the genius behind the book.
The film tells the true story of Rolling Stone journalist David Lipsky’s (Jesse Eisenberg) five-day road tour interview with up-and-coming novelist David Foster Wallace (Jason Segel) after his recent publication of the critically acclaimed 1996 bestseller Infinite Jest. Lipsky—a writer himself who has found only modest success—is enviously skeptical at first of Wallace’s novel, yet after reading only a portion of it (responding ever so humorously with "s***."), quickly realizes the author's true genius potential. Convincing his editor to get him an interview, Lipsky quickly heads over to the frozen outskirts of Bloomington-Normal Illinois to meet and travel with the genius behind the book.
Wallace, however, is far for what
Lipsky expected. The man has an unkempt appearance
with long, hippy-like hair, an unshaven face, and a bandana constantly worn on
his head. He lives in a single-story
house alone with only two large dogs for companionship. Wallace is antisocial, yet lonely and
depressed that he's not yet married in his thirties. He’s modest—almost to the point of
self-deprecating—and speaks in a monotone manner, yet also highly assertive and genuinely
intimidating when putting his foot down. The guy loves television and, in fact, has an
addiction to it to the point where he cannot own one and becomes glued to the
screen when in hotel rooms. Wallace has
a particularly fond love for action media, calling Die Hard a great film
and having the time of his life when they go to see Broken Arrow in
theaters with a couple of Wallace’s female friends. It's clear Wallace is far from what Lipsky
expected of the next genius writer, and it shows right from their first awkward
introduction.
The End of the Tour’s genius
lies with Jesse Eisenberg and Jason Segel's performances. Jesse Eisenberg was made for this role, often
typecasted and quite proficient at naturally portraying jittery, nerdy characters. Jason Segel, on the other hand, is more
surprising at how well he portrays such naturally sincere mannerisms. To prepare for his role, Segel listened exhaustively to Lipsky's interview recordings, watched online clips of David Foster Wallace, and even assembled a book club to read Infinite Jest. Segel’s preparation clearly paid off because
the actor outdoes himself playing Wallace. Both actors feel incredibly genuine in these
true-to-life roles, seamlessly bouncing off each other in awkward yet resoundingly
relatable conversation.
This isn't a film where the
characters hit it off right away and have a great time talking to each
other. In the beginning, Lipsky clings
to stiff small talk, desperately trying to find the right array of words for a
smooth sailing conversation (usually involving asking about things around
Wallace’s house). When Wallace notes how
unlisting his number—because he doesn't want to possibly hurt his fans’s
feelings—is cowardly, Lipsky offers sympathy by noting how such action is not
cowardly, only to get bluntly shut down when Wallace doubles down on such claim. When at a
convenience store, Lipsky notes how his company is paying for all their expenses
and that he can pay for Wallace's food. Wallace accepts the offer before running back to grab more candy and snacks, much to Lipsky's bewilderment.
Despite his assertive, monotone
nature, Wallace openly admits how terrified he is of the interview, (Jason
Segel jokingly ad-libs how Lipsky is not alone in any nervousness and that
they'll get through it together). He
shows worry about coming across as pretentious when the interview is released,
such as when the pair get into a deep conversation about the importance of
masturbation:
Wallace: Ok, you could make
me look like a real dick if you print this.
Lipsky: No, I'm not going
to, but, if you can, speak into the mike.
The latter sentence from Lipsky
was not in the original script and was adlibbed by Eisenberg. Looking at the original transcript, it’s
clear that many bits and pieces of the film's conversation were adlibbed by the
acting pair—giving their conversations a far more natural, genuine flow than the
original script did. I cannot emphasize enough
how much of the film's effectiveness and potency derives from Siegel and Eisenberg's
performances. One of the film's best scenes occurs when Lipsky, on a whim,
decides to ask Wallace about an Alanis poster on his wall. While it may be overkill, I'm going to place
the entire scene’s transcript into this review, because the conversation really
emphasizes what makes The End of the Tour so delightfully engaging:
Lipsky: Can you do me a
favor? Could you tell me about that poster over there?
Wallace: Alanis?
Lipsky: Yeah.
Wallace: I don't know. I
guess I'm susceptible like everybody else. Why?
Lipsky: I mean, she's
pretty, but it's the only thing in there.
Wallace: She's pretty in a
very sloppy, very human way. She's got this squeaky, orgasmic quality to her
voice. You know, here's what it is. A lot of women in magazines are pretty in a
way that is not erotic because they don't look like anybody that you know.
Lipsky: That's true.
Wallace: You can't imagine
them putting a quarter in a parking meter...or, like, eating a bologna
sandwich. Whereas, Alanis Morissette, I can and have imagined her just, like,
(begins chuckling) chowing down on a bologna sandwich. I find her absolutely
riveting.
Lipsky: (chuckling along
with Wallace) Nice. How did you get into her? How did you get into her music?
Wallace: I was listening to
this cheesy Bloomington radio, and "I Want to Tell You" came on.
Lipsky: "You Oughta
Know." But right.
Wallace: I don't know what
that means.
Lipsky: (chuckling) I Want
to Tell You is a book that O.J. Simpson wrote.
Wallace: …Ah! That's a
different thing.
Lipsky: Yeah. Although,
wouldn't it be funny if O.J. Simpson sang "You Oughta Know" and
Alanis Morissette wrote a book about not killing two people?
Wallace: Oh, man. I tell
you, if this whole fuss, whatever, could get me a five-minute cup of tea with
her...ohh.
Lipsky: Yo. Why don't you put
out feelers and see if she'd be willing to meet you?
Wallace: Are you serious? I
would never do that.
Lipsky: Why not?
Wallace: I would be
terrified. Why, would you do that?
Lipsky: If I were you, yeah,
I would do that.
Wallace: A date with Alanis
Morissette? What would I say? "Hello, Miss Morissette. What is it like to
be you?" (in a higher-pitched voice) "I don't know. Shut up and get the
f*** away from me."
Lipsky: That's that beautiful squeaky voice you like.
Wallace: That's right. And
orgasmic.
Lipsky: But you would go if
she called you. "Hey, Dave, I'm at the Drake in Chicago. Let's have
tea."
Wallace: Ok, this is gonna
look ridiculous. It's gonna look like I'm using Rolling Stone...as a vehicle
to, like...
Lipsky: It's been used for
worse.
Wallace: Yes, I would do it.
Ok? I would do it in a heartbeat.
Lipsky: Good.
Wallace: Just, perspiring
heavily the whole way, the whole time shoving Certs into my mouth. Exactly. Freaking
out. It would cause me a week of absolute trauma. And, yes, I would do it in
a... in a heartbeat. Ok? Are you happy?
Lipsky: We got that?
Wallace: It's on the record.
Lipsky: Ok.
Wallace: Um...I like... Eh. I
like talking to you about this stuff. But we should...We gotta be up early.
From this spur of the moment
discussion about a poster of Alanis, the audience is given some deep insight
into both its characters’s mindsets as well as a wickedly entertaining multitude of
various mini conversations that flow right off each other—strung together by
two proficient actors who can pull it off in an incredibly natural manner. The Alanis scene represents what makes The
End of the Tour so delightful to watch—these irrelevant small talk moments
that beautifully capture our reality. The scene also shows the growing bond between
Lipsky and Wallace—forming a deeper connection as they continue feeling each
other out and become more open—leading to the film’s central conflict.
The film’s main drama comes from Lipsky’s
conflict between his growing friendship with Wallace and his job as a
journalist. Lipsey's job is to get a
good story no matter the cost. His
boss’s biggest interest is getting the rundown on rumors regarding Wallace
being addicted to heroin (stemming from Infinite Jest’s focused pieces
on drug usage)—pressing Lipsky to be a prick if he has to if it means getting
the goods. Lipsky is shown constantly
recording everything Wallace says. While
such recordings were given permission by Wallace (who agreed to the interview),
Lipsky takes his job a step further into shady territory. When Wallace goes to scrape ice off his car,
Lipsky hurries around his house, looking over all his stuff and quickly voice
recording everything seen. In
Wallace’s bathroom, Lipsky goes through his medicine cabinet, taking notes of
all his stuff while looking for clues towards the addiction rumors. Yet Lipsky shows hesitancy to outright ask
Wallace about these rumors, almost certainly due to his growing friendship with
the author.
While Lipsky shows conflict over
professionalism and personal development, Wallace takes their relationship on a
purely personal level, and shows extreme hurt when Lipsky seemingly tests their
growing bond when it appears he is flirting with one of Wallace's close
friends and ex-girlfriend Betsy (Mickey Sumner). Wallace takes no time to assertively and quite
intimidatingly tell Lipsky to back off, despite the latter denying any flirting.
The scene creates a rift in their
relationship that comes to a boiling point after flying back to Illinois as the
pair forgo any professionalism and start angrily spatting like two schoolyard
boys.
While Lipsky has grown fond of
Wallace, his inner envy has made him suspicious that Wallace is merely playing
the persona of a humble everyday guy—calling Wallace out who completely denies
any deceptiveness. The drama comes to a
climax when Lipsky finally asks Wallace about the heroin rumors. Wallace denies them and—most likely built up
from Lipsky calling his personality fake—gets frighteningly mad when Lipsky
continues showing doubt, shouting "you don't believe a f***ing word I said!".
It's left ambiguous whether Wallace really
was a heroin addict, just as it’s left ambiguous whether Lipsky was actually
flirting with Betsy. There’s a subtle
tragedy within The End of the Tour’s core story about two men lost in
life. David Lipsky and David Foster
Wallace are two sides of the same coin (fittingly sharing the same first
name). Wallace has achieved fame and
immense praise for his work, yet what he truly desires is a modest, happy life
with a loving family. Lipsky desires
said fame and praise, yet has only received modest success. Such desires blind him to other possibilities
of happiness surrounding him, such as his girlfriend Sarah (Anna Chlumsky)—who
throughout the film is shown to be supportive and genuinely caring of him—and
Wallace himself.
While Wallace has clearly left an
impact on Lipsky, it's uncertain how much the feelings are reciprocated back. In their very last scene together, Lipsky
finally lets go of his pride and envy to give Wallace a copy of his own
book. Lipsky then goes in for a hug and is
awkwardly greeted instead with a handshake from Wallace (their relationship awkward until the end). A slight
subversion occurs when it appears as if Wallace has messaged Lipsky about his
book, only for it to be revealed to be a shoe Lipsky left behind—the shoe
tagged with a message merely stating "Yours?". That's the last the audience sees of the two making contact before the film transitions to 2010 where Lipsky is reading his memoirs
of their interactions a few years after Wallace has committed suicide; "If I could, I'd say to David that living those days with him...reminded me of what life is like, instead of being a relief from it. And I'd tell him it made me feel much less alone." Lipsky forgoes his ambition and envy too
late, ultimately preventing what could have been a very close relationship. Wallace loses a possible friend that he can
trust, and Lipsky loses the companionship of a man he’s grown to greatly admire.
The End of the Tour ends on a potently bittersweet note as Lipsky and many others mourn Wallace's passing, the film's final shot being a flashback of Wallace happily dancing at a Baptist church he goes to because "Baptists can dance" (the way the dancing is shot could also be symbolic of Wallace finding peace in the afterlife). The End of the Tour is a powerful example of a performance-driven film. Its two lead actors give terrific performances as people lost in a chaotic, confusing world—truly capturing and ab-libbing the natural, everyday mannerisms and interactions of humanity. It's Jesse Eisenberg and Jason Segal's performances and chemistry that take a film with an average script and transform it into something great.
The End of the Tour ends on a potently bittersweet note as Lipsky and many others mourn Wallace's passing, the film's final shot being a flashback of Wallace happily dancing at a Baptist church he goes to because "Baptists can dance" (the way the dancing is shot could also be symbolic of Wallace finding peace in the afterlife). The End of the Tour is a powerful example of a performance-driven film. Its two lead actors give terrific performances as people lost in a chaotic, confusing world—truly capturing and ab-libbing the natural, everyday mannerisms and interactions of humanity. It's Jesse Eisenberg and Jason Segal's performances and chemistry that take a film with an average script and transform it into something great.
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