The Trip (1967)

The Trip (1967), directed by Roger Corman, 2.5 stars

“Anything is possible…” begins “The Trip,” a film whose screenplay was written by (of all people) actor Jack Nicholson.  This catchphrase from a commercial that Paul (Peter Fonda) is directing at the start of the film might be difficult for him to swallow just then given that his beautiful wife, Sally (Susan Strasberg) has shown up on the set to remind him that he needs to sign their divorce papers. Fortunately, poor Paul has a good friend in John (Bruce Dern), who offers him exactly the right thing for a man looking to expand his horizons: 250 micrograms of lysergic acid diethylamide.  They venture together to an old Victorian home remodeled in a stereotypical, psychedelic 60s style, where under John’s watchful eye, Paul drops 250 micrograms of LSD and departs for places unknown.

The bulk of the film’s 80 minutes or so documents Paul’s trip, much of which consists of rapid-fire kaleidoscopic colors, extended sex and dance scenes, fog-bound strolls through sets from Roger Corman’s earlier Edgar Allan Poe movies, and a surreal hike through a forest in which Paul is accompanied by twin Tolkienesque dark riders.  But there are a few less over the top high points as well.  During a quiet moment, Paul stops to consider the implications of the term “living” room.  Later, he wanders into a house, turns on the TV, and when he is discovered there by a little girl, accedes to her request to get her a glass of milk.  Later still, he makes his way into a laundromat where he is mesmerized by a woman’s clothes spinning circuitously in a dryer.  Why he doesn’t scare the bejeezus out their owner a whole lot sooner than he does with his bizarre behavior I don’t know.

It’s not easy to convey on screen what it must be like to experience the world in a drug-induced state, but despite its eccentricities, “The Trip” does as creditable a job as any film I’ve seen.   The interactions between Paul and John as the former is just beginning to feel the effects of the drug ring the truest.  Paul runs an emotional gamut, experiencing wonder, embarrassment, playfulness, and vulnerability.  His awe at ordinary inanimate objects, an orange glowing like the sun at one point, television towers appearing like crosses on the mount at another, feels absolutely genuine.  So, too, do John’s reactions to his friend’s experiences.  They are subtle, compassionate, filled with empathy and deep pleasure at his friend’s interior adventure.  The problem is that the film attempts to sustain an intense drug induced state for more than an hour, and this is more time than the average straight viewer is probably interested in investing in another person’s hallucinatory journey.