I’m a connoisseur of roads. I’ve been tasting roads my whole life. This road will never end. It probably goes all around the world”

These are the haunting final words of My Own Private Idaho, spoken by the tragic protagonist of the film, Mike Waters (River Phoenix). My Own Private Idaho is a film about roads, a film about constant traveling, a film of journeys. Not merely the journey of our two main characters, Mike and his best friend, and subject of his secret adorations, Scott (Keanu Reeves) to find the former’s mother who he had not seen in many years, but also the journey towards the self, a tale of introspection and self-reflection. A film about undertaking the brutal and arduous journey towards understanding what it is to be human, what it is to be unique. Gus Van Sant, who has become a director who has grown into a more toothless, harmless version of himself, made My Own Private Idaho as his third feature film, after the explosive Drugstore Cowboy, and what I had never given much of a thought before proved to be one of the most transcendentally moving cinematic experiences I have ever had, a film so brutally honest and explicit in its bleak view of humanity, it cannot avoid being an unintentionally gorgeous piece of humane cinema, a film that does so much with so very little, and manages to be an astonishing portrayal of what it means to be…someone, whoever, whatever. It is a film about existence in its most pure and honest form.

What is the road Mike is referring to, as he stands on that dusty highway, not another car in sight? Is he referring to the road he currently stands on, looking as if it goes on seemingly forever? Or is there a deeper, far more philosophical meaning behind these dauntingly layered final sentiments? Mike is a twenty-something-year-old street urchin who seems to lack the most pivotal aspect of an upbringing: somewhere to call home. In his desperation, and in lieu of not having experienced some of the most important formative moments of his life, Mike makes a living as a hustler, using his dashing good looks to charm the litany of wealthy gay men (and the occasional lonely old women) who thrive on the experience of being with someone like Mike, not because he satisfies their visceral, carnal sexual desires, but rather he allows them a more important form of satisfaction – he makes them feel young again. His aloof but unthreatening persona is the perfect juxtaposition for his friend Scott, who also works as a hustler to get by. However, the difference between Mike and Scott is that Scott is only hustling as an act of rebellion against his wealthy upbringing, and his affairs with these older men are purely for the remuneration, while Mike, on the other hand, engages in these affairs because of his own difficulties in grappling with his homosexuality, and even more so, trying to come to terms with the fact that he is so deeply in love with Scott, who outright admits that he could never feel the same. Their friendship undergoes various difficulties, especially when Scott falls in love with a beautiful Italian girl, and leaves Mike alone once again, in search of…something.

My Own Private Idaho is unequivocally a film in the same category of other stories that fit into the quest genre. Mike is in search of something elusive – on the outset, it seems relatively simple – he is searching for his mother who he was separated from many years ago. However, it is far deeper than that, and there are many layers to this story. A more in-depth analysis will focus on how both Mike and Scott are searching for a sense of acceptance from their parents, who they feel are unforgiving towards their lifestyle, or at least it would seem – Scott, the son of the city’s mayor, is the antithesis of what such a person should be. Mike has a mother who seems to be completely unaware of what he does – and there are subtle hints throughout that she may have done the same in her younger days, and that Mike himself is the product of the exact kind of business he is engaged in, and thus it is unlikely she would want her son to fall victim to the same violent abuse that she did. They endure this arduous travail that takes them around the country and even out of it, in search of Mike’s mother – but that isn’t the only reason they are in perpetual motion, because it becomes clear that they are on a journey of self-discovery, searching (perhaps in vain) for some sense of belonging, a sense of self-acceptance through the approval of others, and quite simply trying to find out if they truly are destined for the paths that they are on. Without going into too much detail, their paths do diverge in a way that is shattering but ultimately extremely profound, and they prove to go on their own journeys, following their own destinies and entering into their inevitable fates, whether positive or negative. Much like the similarly-themed Paris Texas by Wim Wenders (and featuring possibly the finest performance of the 1980s on behalf of the extraordinary Harry Dean Stanton), My Own Private Idaho is a film about finding someone who had been taken out of our lives years before, and along the way, finding oneself (as taut and cliched as that sounds). In many ways, these two films, as well as many others, are about the (meta)physical journey of the individual, and its in the interplay between the tangible and the abstract that My Own Private Idaho soars to extraordinary heights, much like the remark made  by Scott where he says “It’s when you start doing things for free, that you start to grow wings” – and he meant this in a way very different to what we are talking about here, but I’d be surprised if this was not some indication to the almost celestially abstract journey these characters are on

To exemplify this point even more than it needs to be, the line by Scott mentioned just above has overtures of Lou Reed’s seminal song, “Dirty Boulevard”, where another street urchin wishes to “fly away” to escape the life of poverty and suffering, and go on his own (meta)physical journey, out of poverty. The yarn spun by Reed in that song can perfectly apply to My Own Private Idaho, with our street urchin being Mike who is also looking to escape. There are many instances of a performance impressing me immensely, but it is very rare to find out that astonishes me quite as much as River Phoenix did in My Own Private Idaho. This performance kept me utterly captivated throughout, and every subtle gesture, every quiet nuance of this performance, was indicative of quite possibly one of the finest screen portrayals of the crisis of youth ever seen. Putting aside the narrative of Phoenix being a tragic figure lost far too soon (which often looms over discussions of his performances), based purely on this film alone, without any consideration of his untimely death or his other performances, what he did in My Own Private Idaho was undeniably stunning. His portrait of a fragmented, juvenile and insecure individual, one who is venturing out on a journey without any guide, unsure of where his decisions will take him, struck me emotionally in a way very few performances can. Phoenix commands the screen with his magnificent representation of the uncertainty we experience in our formative years, and the odyssey of Mike, towards wherever he is going (this film, quite notably, has a perceived lack of satisfying resolutions, which is both frustrating and wonderful), is made even more powerful by the extraordinary performance by Phoenix, who imbues his portrayal with warmth, honesty, and resonant melancholy. It truly is one of the most exquisite performances I have ever seen, and it does sadden me that such a bright talent was lost terrifyingly early on in such a promising career.

The other lead of My Own Private Idaho, Keanu Reeves, was certainly ascending towards mainstream recognition, if he had not already achieved such with performances in films as diverse as his iconic leading role in the broad comedy Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure and the intense period drama Dangerous Liaisons. For what it’s worth, I’d never considered Reeves a particularly poor actor, but rather an actor who had difficulty finding the most worthwhile projects. My Own Private Idaho is undeniably one of Reeves’ finest performances, and he does well with the material, crafting a character that may not have as much complexity as that of Phoenix’s character, yet still being endearing and nuanced in his own right. To be perfectly honest, the only aspect of My Own Private Idaho that I did not like (and which prevented this from being a perfect film), was Reeve’s storyline, which rang slightly false throughout. Van Sant constructed his narrative around a loose re-telling of Henry IV, Part 1, Henry IV, Part 2, and Henry V. There is a sequence within the second act that is slightly self-indulgent and poorly-constructed, whereby a character named Bob Pigeon (William Richert) enters the film, a figure akin to an amalgamation of Dickens’ Fagin and Shakespeare’s Falstaff. The heightened iambic pentameter and rhythmic use of language were distracting, and while it was understandably used to develop the storyline of Scott, it was not particularly effective. Reeves, however, is very good in the film, and his performance, while never reaching the heights of what Phoenix did, is emotionally-resonant and unexpectedly moving, and the chemistry between the two leads should certainly not be underestimated.

I feel like, despite absolutely adoring My Own Private Idaho, I have yet to make a single coherent thought regarding this film. It is not hyperbolic when I say that this is a film that was nothing short of a transcendental experience. There are moments within this film that are embedded in my mind, lines uttered by the characters that still ring very clearly for me, like a poignant echo. There are scenes that I simply cannot forget about, and it is all due to the fact that My Own Private Idaho is nothing short of a minor miracle of a film. A vital part of the New Queer Cinema movement (perhaps one of the pioneering films of the movement, although that is highly-debated), it is a film about representation without attempting to elicit sympathy or rely on taut perceptions to convey some moral message. An important aspect of My Own Private Idaho is that it is not a “queer film”, but rather, LGBTQI+ issues, as they are termed today, form the backdrop to a story about the journey towards self-enlightenment, and the challenges that come with crises of identity. However, the problem with My Own Private Idaho is that it is a complex film that tackles difficult issues in a way that is almost impossible to describe. There are moments within this film that are far too incredible to reduce to anything coherent. The scene in the second act, where Mike and Scott sit by a campfire and talk, has such raw emotional resonance and meaning behind it, with the sheer brutality of the explicit honesty of that moment elevating the scene beyond anything possible to properly describe. My Own Private Idaho is a film that requires a great deal of thought, and there is still very much that I need to ponder. It is a film with such a rich, evocative sense of realism, even the brief forays into something resembling surrealism are firmly grounded in reality.

Gus Van Sant did something extraordinary with My Own Private Idaho. He made a film that goes above-and-beyond its straightforward premise, ignores stereotypes and supersedes nearly every expectation one has going into it. It features a breathtaking leading performance from River Phoenix, and while I normally resent the comparisons between Phoenix and James Dean, seeing the former with the wild blonde pompadour and bright red jacket, it is difficult to not draw comparisons between the portrait of youthful angst conveyed in this film and Rebel Without a Cause, two films that share many similar themes. My Own Private Idaho does often tread very familiar ground, and it may have some predictable moments, but for the most part, it is a delicate, endearing and beautiful film that approaches a panoply of difficult themes in a way that is seemingly effortless, and all these thematic threads converge in a portrait of the human condition, and unexpectedly moving portrayal of life, in all its bleak despair and enduring wonder. My Own Private Idaho is an astonishing film, and it has been an extremely long time since a film has moved me this much. What a beautiful, poignant and meaningful film, one that lingers on in one’s mind long afterward, and will not soon be forgotten.