Starring Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Toro. Directed by Terry Gilliam Rated R, with profanity, drug use. Running time 96 minutes We give this film a rating of 4 out of 10

(May 22, 1997) -- At first glance, Terry Gilliam seems the ideal director -- the only director -- who could successfully adapt the bizarre work of gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson to the screen.

After all, Gilliam is the day's most imaginative surrealistic filmmaker, which he's proven in Brazil, The Fisher King and 12 Monkeys. And Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is a benchmark book of surreal journalism.

Thompson's essay painted an exaggerated, impressionistic portrait of Las Vegas -- and America -- in 1971, amid the rubble from the collapse of the '60s free-spirited flower power. Produced in a crazed, drug-induced dream state for Rolling Stone, the book blended Thompson's ultracynical cultural observations, tales of his manic misadventures and various rants against Richard Nixon, Spiro Agnew, the Vietnam War and The Establishment.

But the combination of two notable surrealists in this film doesn't quite equal the sum of the parts.

All that warped fantasy -- hotel guests turning into lizards, midget waiters, rooms awash in ankle-deep water, in-your-face vomiting, wacked-out gunplay -- results in unsavory sensory overload. Quite simply, the weirdness is downright exhausting.

The film's relentless flight from reality leaves no characters or situations to identify with or learn from. Thompson's book balanced better the author's strange, intense drug experiences with his often hilarious political and cultural observations.

Gilliam tries to counter all the drug imagery by providing Thompson's thought processes through a lot of voiceover. Johnny Depp, as Thompson, narrates, often from the original text.

But it's not enough.

The daring Depp, though, risks all as Thompson, generating a frantic, frazzled portrait of the bold, bald and bow-legged reporter.

Speaking in a fast, clipped voice and chewing constantly on a trademark cigarette holder, he's a near-psychotic time bomb, wired with high-test booze, a cornucopia of drugs, and a nasty streak of cynicism.

At his side is his attorney, a potbellied Samoan named Dr. Gonzo, who shares Thompson's frayed paranoia and mind-altering substances.

He's played with flamboyant style by Benicio Del Toro, who gained some 40 pounds for the role.

Though both romp shamelessly through the over-the-top material, the dialogue is not always clear. Depp talks impossibly fast and Del Toro mumbles. Occasionally, you'll wish for subtitles.

Then again, I'm not sure what they're saying would make much sense, anyway. After all, Fear and Loathing is about a time and a place that also failed to make much sense.