gotta say, i’m real proud of this one.
Somewhere along the way, their trip had taken a dark turn, with the number 666 popping up too often for comfort and the influence of a seemingly prophetic hitchhiker who’d told them menacingly that God and the devil were the same entity hanging over them. The filmmakers, no doubt influenced by their inability to get along, were experiencing the interplay with a sort of doom and gloom mysticism that enjoys a romantic status in art from Blake to the music of rock and roll icons like Led Zeppelin. They started suspecting cow-eyed travelers at rest stops of being zombies. They’d set out to prove that rock wasn’t dead and in doing so were swept up into its whirlwind of good times, existential loneliness, self-loathing, transcendent moments of auditory rapture and the flickering presence of the dark-light Oz that underlies everything.