The End of the Tour Revisited or: How Terrific Performances can Turn an Average Script into a Great Film (Film Analysis)

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.

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.