Remember that stoner in your freshman dorm who quoted Bob Dylan when he got wasted and tried to explain to wide-eyed coeds that the whole anti-drug thing was somehow a massive government conspiracy? Welcome to that guy's wet dream. Oscar-winning director Alex Gibney (Enron: The Smartest Guys the Room) teams up with Vanity Fair editor-turned-producer Graydon Carter and narrator Johnny Depp to document the outrageous life and legend of iconic rogue journalist Hunter S. Thompson, whose drug-infused Rolling Stone pieces birthed the participatory stream-of-consciousness journalistic style known as "Gonzo," not to mention an army of Fear and Loathing-quoting collegiate pseudo-hippies.

The documentary is a manic ride from the jump-start opening: 9/11 footage bleeds into a violent Vietnam montage (been done, but still visually powerful) to its culmination with the (literal) bang of Thompson's meticulously planned 2005 suicide in his notorious carnival funhouse of a cabin in Aspen, Colorado, via his 22-caliber shotgun. Suicide and 9/11 aside, this trippy, kaleidoscopic rollercoaster through the freakiest bits of the '60s and '70s successfully embodies Thompson's dry "mirror to society" humor and is entertaining, outrageous, and frequently hilarious.

Gonzo screeches through the various milestones in Thompson's life and career with impressive amounts of home video and interviews that legitimize the larger-than-life tales of the infamously drug-gobbling writer. The effect is a keen insight into the idealistic patriot behind the yellow aviators.

For such an anti-establishment trouble-maker, Thompson seems to have made an eclectic group of friends and fans, as evidenced by interviews ranging from Jimmy Carter to Jimmy Buffett. Previous attempts to document Thompson's wild and wacky adventures range from Bill Murray's dismal 1980 turn in Where the Buffalo Roam, to Monty Python-alum Terry Gilliam's beloved 1998 cult classic Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, featuring Johnny Depp's uncannily accurate portrayal. Depp, who personally paid for Thompson's extravagant funeral (his remains were shot into space via cannon amidst an array of fireworks) adds a sympathetic earnestness to the antihero, and Gibney successfully continues his habit of making corporate America look both hopelessly lame and ominously conspiratorial in a Reefer Madness kinda way.

Thompson himself comes off paranoid, unapologetic, and oh, so damn cool.