This makes for a rather uninspired film that, despite being based off of a novel considered a classic, fails to grab the viewer's attention with its meandering storyline and characters that drift in and out of the picture.
If our On the Road is a barely coherent tightrope act - a fizzy word drunk stand-up speed-rapped by an aspiring poet posing as a dumb saint prole - then it's tough to take this pretty version, populated by Gap models in retro Americana fashions.
Aside from a meandering, episodic narrative that never grips or compels the movie is, frankly, no more profound, insightful or thought-provoking than Road Trip or an American Pie movie - and a whole lot less fun.
You can keep the Zeitgeist embalmed in myth and nostalgia for as long as you like, but to truly reinvigorate it you'll need a whole lot more than a whiskey-hued lens and a frontseat full of pretty faces.
Derogatory dismissals of prosaic visual experiences have been around since, well, someone was bored to tears. To the poetic hyperbole of watching paint dry, or grass grow, we can now add: watching a writer write.