Based on the book by Jack Kerouac, On the Road follows beat poet Sal Paradise as he travels across the country with his friend Dean Moriaty who leaves a string of women everywhere he goes.
It’s probably a very good film, but it just annoyed me. I’m far too much of a cynical cow to have any respect of faith for the hippies and beat poets of the past. All that ideology and blah blah. I’d love to travel across the US, but not with any of these people. Perhaps I’d have liked it more if I’d read On The Road. But perhaps less.