Nice review. Those films always seemed to me to be taped poetry. I assume others have been struck by this, but I am frequently astonished by Buk's ability to start anywhere and talk and make perfect sentences, one after the other. Alot of writers are not articulate. Vladimir Nabokov had to have his interview questions beforehand since he was such a poor speaker. Buk just GOES--and wonderful streams of images, metaphors, etc. Yep, not all writers are good talkers.
Bukowski has always been known for his drinking and the film does not shy away from that obvious facet of his personality. Note the way he drinks a beer and that alone can give a clue into his being. Rather than gently sipping, Bukowski attacks the beer bottle with relish with head thrown back high in the air and the bottle perfectly vertical above him. He attacks the spirits with an intensity and focus that most other people could not contemplate. While others simply enjoy the taste and sensation, Bukowski attacks his alcohol as one may drink their first glass of water after wandering in a desert. For him, the alcohol acts as a friend and enemy; while it may break him down physically, emotionally it allows him to cope with the world around him. Dealing with the traumas of his childhood and the silliness and cruelty of the real world, alcohol becomes Bukowski's faithful mistress. She has always been there for him and is the only one in the end he really can trust.