Clean Slate Junkie by Jansen Musico Trainspotting...

Clean Slate Junkie
by Jansen Musico

Trainspotting (1998)
D: Danny Boyle
S: Ewan McGregor, Robert Carlyle, Kelly MacDonald

I’m not an addict. No sir, not a junkie. I don’t stick needles. I don’t snort coke. I don’t smoke pot. I don’t do ‘shrooms nor swallow X, but I do know what it’s like to be an addict—a chaser of an insatiable high. In every person, there is an innate longing for things. Things which fill that mysterious void in the pit of our very being. It’s the constant itch that needs scratching and the song that gets stuck in your head. It’s this all-encompassing human condition Danny Boyle uses to give this movie a breath of life… or a shot in the arm.

Trainspotting is a mind-blowing example of cinematic collusion. Irvine Welsch’s twisted tale about a bunch of Edinburgh tossers is told through the thick visual stylings of the dexterous Mr. Boyle. Rounding up this collaboration is a brilliant cast led by a young and emphatic Ewan McGregor, whose subsequent, lackluster Hollywood projects are overshadowed by this brilliant druggie comedy. Other notable players are Robert Carlyle (The Full Monty, 28 Weeks Later), whose outrageous portrayal of the warfreak Begbie left me in stitches, and the lovely Kelly MacDonald-Payne (Nanny McPhee, All the Invisible Children), who played the innocent liberated schoolgirl Diane.

Like any Boyle project, the film was glossy in the sense that the cuts were clean, the mise-en-scène was superb (Yes, I used the term to simplify things. Bite me.), and overall, it looked professional. This, I find, is admirable especially when these tricks are ingeniously used to visualize such a serious and gritty subject as drug addiction. Most storytellers would resort to the obvious, focusing solely on the physical pangs and outward symptoms of going cold turkey, for example. But Boyle, together with Josh Hodge, who stayed true to Welsch’s text, made use of the surreal—a dead baby crawling on the ceiling, ready to pounce on a delirious Renton (McGregor) as he squirms in bed.

I am no judge to tell whether the film falls more within the lines of reality or in the realms of the fantastic. Like I said, I’m not an addict. Even so, I, or any other viewer, will get to sympathize with Renton. This is because he shares a common humanity, a sense of longing for things, and a vow to progress and change for the better. The whole ending monologue is a testament to that:

The truth is that I’m a bad person. But, that’s gonna change. I’m going to change. This is the last of that sort of thing. Now I’m cleaning up and I’m moving on, going straight and choosing life. I’m looking forward to it already. I’m gonna be just like you; the job, the family, the fucking big television, the washing machine, the car, the compact disc, and electric tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisure wear, luggage, three piece suite, DIY, game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf, washing the car, choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing gutters, getting by, looking ahead, the day you die.

Alas, Renton is an unreliable character, which leaves a lot of room for speculation as the final scene rolled. Any Welsch fan knows that all those questions that were left hanging in this movie were somewhat answered in its literary sequel, Porno.

A decade ago, it was rumored that Boyle and the rest of the cast would go back to shoot a film adaptation of the said text, but these plans were dashed when both actors and director decided not to continue with the project—a wise move. There’s no sense in wrecking the first… absolutely no sense in wrecking Renton’s clean slate. That’s all we really want for him, right? That’s all we really want. Clean slates.