It’s not dramatic, it’s Shakespearean! A ’90s cult classic, “My Own Private Idaho”, directed and written by Gus Van Sant, depicts the lives of street hustlers in a grand vision of brash surreality. Van Sant manages to create a unique atmosphere that revels in the chaos but is grounded by its central tragic hero and his relationship with a fellow hustler.
Loosely inspired by William Shakespeare’s “Henry IV,” “My Own Private Idaho” details Mike Waters’ (River Phoenix) life as a street hustler, living from job to job and moving through life in an endless daze. Because of his narcolepsy, Mike falls into fits of sleep in great moments of stress — including, sometimes, appointments with his clients. However, his closest friend, Scott Favor (Keanu Reeves), a rich boy who turned to hustling in an effort to rebel against his father, takes care of Mike during these moments of unrest.
Constantly haunted by the memories of his mother, Sharon (Vana O’Brien), who left him, Mike decides to finally go on a quest with Scott to search for her in Idaho. As the journey progresses, Mike’s life begins to slowly unravel as his grasp on both Scott and his mother gradually loosens and he faces the possibility that they will become merely phantoms of his past.
Van Sant’s distinct direction colors nearly every inch of the movie. From the first scene, in which Mike wanders along an empty stretch of highway, shots of the changing clouds and the colors and peaceful plains of Idaho create a wistful atmosphere. A layer of nostalgia rests upon the moment as Mike’s memories of his mother soon flash in a broken montage of remembrance.
The dialogue of the film switches between early modern and modern English, indicating the Shakespearean influence on Van Sant’s vision. Dialogues in early modern English prominently occur within the crew of street hooligans and hustlers that Mike and Scott belong to in Portland, Ore., demonstrating a sort of slang within the community.
The near whimsical and dramatic personality of the crew’s leader, Bob Pigeon (William Richert), makes him the character with the clearest Shakespearean influence. This leads to rather playful scenes, like the attempted robbery of an unsuspecting rock band by Bob and the crew, who are dressed up in pink robes and pretending to be on a religious outing — before Bob whips out his gun and they become a cackling mess. The subsequent scene is equally full of such whimsy as Scott questions Bob, who is clueless that the robbery was set up by Scott and Mike to make a fool of him about the failed robbery, leading to a long back-and-forth in which Bob details his dramatic lie to the laughter of the crowd.
This clear difference in language helps demonstrate the interesting shift to tragedy in the second half of the narrative, which almost entirely focuses on Mike’s journey to find his mother. The use of modern English pulls you back to reality from prior fantastical moments, establishing a deeper understanding of the characters. The straightforward nature of modern language pushes away the extraneous details to show a clearer image of their personalities and natures. It’s in these moments that the central characters shine as Scott’s conflicting nature and Mike’s loneliness enter into full view.
Furthermore, it’s Phoenix’s and Reeves’ performances that fully take advantage of the chaotic, yet tragic, story that Van Sant has built. Phoenix is a tour de force as Mike, creating a lost, lovestruck boy with the frenzied, tired nature of someone who has grown up far too fast. It’s Phoenix’s awkward swagger and wild eyes that make Mike’s love for Scott all the more heartbreaking and vulnerable when Scott cannot reciprocate his feelings.
Next to Phoenix, Reeves delivers a surprisingly complex Scott whose initial kindness and charming playfulness soon dissolve into selfishness, as he plans to leave his life as a hustler behind when he receives his inheritance. What seems at first a special love for Mike becomes a facade, as Reeves’ disarming persona and declarations take on a hollow cruelty when Scott leaves Mike behind in the blink of an eye after falling in love with Carmela (Chiara Caselli), a young Italian farmgirl.
However, it’s the transfixing nature of Mike and Scott that acts as a double-edged sword. Scott and Mike are a fascinating pair, and the wonderful performances by Phoenix and Reeves personally left me wanting a deeper exploration and focus on these two characters. The playful moments — done with the colorful cast of side characters — while still compelling in their own right, were dull in comparison to Mike and his relationship with Scott. With the limitation of the runtime, it felt as if there was so much more to explore with the central characters.
Nevertheless, even the negatives occur because of how truly fascinating this movie is. Each moment feels alive and unique to the narrative. The scene at the campfire between Mike and Scott is arguably the most memorable of the film. It shows how bold and sincere this story is. Amid the surreal circumstances, these two hustlers — having bounced from one place to another, unsure of where to go next — huddle next to a campfire in the middle of Idaho. The grandness transforms into intimacy as Phoenix delivers Mike’s timid but genuine confession, gently whispering “I love you and you don’t pay me,” while Reeves’ eyes display a level of pity as Scott will never be able to love Mike in the same way. It’s a delicate balance, but it’s done so well that it all comes together to create a gorgeously gritty and heartfelt tragedy.
Van Sant’s “My Own Private Idaho” is in all ways enchanting and beautiful in both the grand whimsy and its intimate, devastating romance. It’s a film that stays with you long after its end, leaving a part of its strange and spellbinding storytelling behind.
