Two-thirds through Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, what should be the last words on its title character are uttered by George McGovern's 1972 campaign manager Frank Mankiewicz.

Hunter Thompson, Mankiewicz said, "provided the most accurate and least factual coverage of anybody on the campaign."

Which is to say, Richard Nixon's head may not actually have morphed into the head of a hyena on inauguration day as the good doctor had it, but it might as well have.

Ironically, though, Gonzo opens with a reading by Johnny Depp of one of the soberest pieces the late gonzo-journalist ever wrote, and one of his last. It is his day-after Sept. 11 piece, accurate, factual and prescient: "The towers are gone now, along with all hopes for Peace in Our Time, in the United States or any other country. Make no mistake about it. We are at war now -- with somebody -- and we will stay at war with that mysterious enemy for the rest of our lives ... We are going to punish somebody, but just who or what will be blown to smithereens is hard to say. Maybe Afghanistan, maybe Pakistan or Iraq, or possibly all three at once."

The documentary by Alex Gibney (Enron: The Smartest Guys In the Room) then moves to Thompson's seminal book on the Hell's Angels -- also written in brilliantly evocative, but utterly sober horror and awe.

It is as if, sandwiched around all the psychedelics and cocaine and booze, Thompson's career begins and ends with clear-eyed sanity (he planned his own gun suicide as a social event, with loved ones on-site).

In some ways, Gibney's film is like a very good blog, with great links to other media.

This is a man who had two biographical feature films made about him (Where the Buffalo Roam and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas) and at least one intimate documentary (2003's Breakfast With Hunter).

Plenty of use is made of all of these, plus what seems like an embarrassment of riches, footage-wise. Thompson orchestrated his own party, and he was a man comfortable with having cameras pointed at him.

What's interesting is the assortment of people who admired the man -- ranging from Jimmy Carter to Hell's Angels founder Sonny Barger (who calls him "one of America's greatest writers" and "a jerk"), and Pat Buchanan, who seems to have genuinely liked this madman who stood for everything he's against.

There's much ground to cover, and some remarkable images (my favourite is a maniac drive with Hunter at the wheel and his alter-ego, the artist Ralph Steadman, looking shocked senseless -- Steadman having just walked off a plane to have magic mushrooms popped into his mouth).

There's Thompson's quixotic run for Mayor of Aspen, Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas, Fear & Loathing on the Campaign Trail (a double-shot, given that Thompson's young colleague Tim Crouse reported on his antics in his own book The Boys on the Bus).

And there's something of an attempt to liken Thompson's career with that of Truman Capote, in the sense that his own notoriety doomed his creativity.

The last seems reasonable enough, although mescaline probably had its part to play.

Reading his books will give you better insight, but it's hard to imagine a better primer into Thompson's outlaw life.

(This film is rated 14-A)

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