Director Alex Gibney (who we interviewed earlier this year) is making a mounting case for a future legacy as the first great documentarian of the 21st century. Hot on the heels of his incisive investigations into the collapse of a major corporation and the collapse of America's wartime moral compass, Gibney has switched gears. Rather than going after an entity whose misdeeds he feels are in dire need of being exposed, he has made what will likely be seen as the definitive filmed biography of the life of someone who was similarly dedicated to exposing the sleaze of the evildoers: Dr. Hunter S. Thompson.

Gibney is, on the surface, an odd choice to document Thompson's life. Thompson's reckless life, the barely controlled mania of his writing, and the absolute hilarity of his drug-addled takes on his subjects seems the polar opposite of Gibney's now-familiar sharp-edged, sober, and mirthless films. But beneath the surface, both men are fueled by the same righteous indignation, and the controlled burn of the director's fire turns out to be the perfect delivery vehicle for looking at the wildfire that was Thompson's life. Not to mention that Thompson's story is in many ways just as much about a collapse as Enron or Taxi to the Dark Side.

Gonzo compiles an astounding volume of material to make up a portrait of the writer; Gibney was given access to the entirety of Thompson's estate, including reels and reels of home movies and video, hours of tape of interviews and dictated thoughts. The rush of images is staggering, as the filmmaker combines all this footage with archival bits, scenes from previously released documentary and dramatized films about Thompson, and the occasional staged image, all choreographed to an excellent soundtrack of popular (and always relevant) songs that are becoming a recognizable hallmark of Gibney's work. While overwhelming, the film is beautifully structured, the only major misstep perhaps being an overabundance of footage from Terry Gilliam's film of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas during the discussion of the book's original writing. As true to the spirit and text of Thompson's writing as Gilliam's film was (and as underrated a gem as it is), Gibney almost begins to treat the movie as archival footage of Thompson's Vegas trip, and goes a few paces too far.

But excess was Thompson's raison d'être, so a little stylistic excess on the director's part is certainly excusable. Especially since Gibney allows Thompson to tell his own story. The film's only narration comes from Thompson himself, as read from his books and articles by Johnny Depp, who seems to have a small corner of his own soul inhabited by Thompson's spirit. Depp's readings punctuate the major writing milestones along the author's journey, mostly during the years 1965-1975. A solid 90 percent of the film is focused on this decade, which leaves little time for the next 30 years that Thompson lived; but popular opinion (stated candidly in the film) from both Thompson's friends, employers, and Thompson himself was that he was never as good again as he was during those years. When he became famous, when he became part of the story, he could no longer be effective as a journalist, which was really where he excelled.

So the film does some glossing over of his ultimate physical and spiritual decline, choosing instead to celebrate the genius of his most prolific years. But his output during his later years did have moments of brilliance, and it's here that his purposes again can be seen to dovetail with Gibney's. In a blog excerpt written immediately after the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks, Thompson essentially predicts the entire trajectory of the Bush presidency and U.S. foreign policy for the past seven years. The prescience of his statements borders on clairvoyance. And the parallels between the major fights of Thompson's heyday and now are ever present. Coverage of George McGovern's campaign, on which Thompson was a correspondent and then a supporter, cannot help but remind the viewer of the Obama campaign (up until the post-convention melt-down anyway). Thompson's criticisms of Nixon could easily be applied to Bush, and Gibney even goes so far as to split the screen to show footage of Vietnam alongside footage of the war in Iraq, accompanied by Thompson's words about the former, to drive home the point.

The film is honest in both its admiration for Thompson, and in the ways he contributed to his own decline. What emerges is a complex portrait of a man who was often well liked even by those who vehemently disagreed with his writing. It's Pat Buchanan, of all people, who offers up some of the fondest recollections of Thompson. Members of the Hell's Angels, who were portrayed in a less than flattering light in Thompson's first book, spoke warmly of him even as they reminisced over beating the crap out of him. His son concentrates on cherished memories of time spent bonding with his dad shooting guns with him, while admitting that his parenting was largely absentee in nature. Gonzo's brilliance is in showing Thompson warts and all, without taking anything away from his greatness even as it shows his many deficiencies.

Gonzo has no more scheduled SILVERDOCS screenings, but the film will see a proper theatrical release on July 4; which is fitting, since the good Doctor was nothing if not a fierce patriot.