ALMOST FAMOUS
by Sasha Stone

He's in a quiet vibration land
Strange as it seems his musical dreams -
Ain't quite so bad.
- The Who, "Tommy"

Cameron Crowe doesn't just love rock music; it is part of his soul, his mouthpiece for the way he feels and defines himself. If this werent' already obvious when John Cusack chose to declare his love in Say Anything by holding up a boom box blasting Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes," or when he chose a rare studio cut of Bob Dylan's "Shelter from the Storm" to cover the end credits in Jerry Maguire, or when he married Heart's Nancy Wilson -- it is most certainly obvious now with Almost Famous, one of the best films, if not the best film, to come out this year.

Almost Famous opens on a young boy, William (Michael Angarano) exiting a movie theater with his mother Elaine (Frances McDormand). They're discussing the boy's choice to be the character Atticus Finch when he grows up. When his mother asks him why he explains because he was a good father, and that he did it all himself. "Excuse me," his mother corrects, "he did not do it by himself," and she explains that he had help in the form of the cook. Clearly, this is a mother who wants to teach her son more than most parents would consider appropriate. But, it turns out, that is just the tip of the iceberg.

William and Elaine get along well because William is only eleven. He
stares up at her wide-eyed and interested as she instills in him intellectual prowess that will enable him to advance beyond his years while also alienating him from his peers. But William's rebellious sister Anita (Zooey Deschanel) does not believe her mother's ramblings, and when she stumbles into the house, with an intoxicant on her breath, Elaine demands she reveal what's under her coat. Anita slowly reveals not a bong, but a Simon and Garfunkle album.

"Rock music," Elaine fumes, "encourages drugs and promiscuous sex." Rock music is not devil's music to her, she is not that kind of crazy. But it is the thing that corrupts a fertile mind. It isn't that Elaine is puritanical; it's that she doesn't believe in killing brain cells or in replacing conversation with music. But what it really gets down to is that she doesn't want to let go of her children and she senses that rock n' roll will steal them away. When Anita decides to finally flee her mother's grasp, she whispers in William's ear, "look under your bed. It will set you free."

Later, William opens a suitcase to reveal a stack of well-worn records, as precious and clandestine as a box of stolen rubies -- Joni Mitchell's "Blue," Bob Dylan's "Blonde on Blonde," and of course, The Who's "Tommy," which Anita instructs William to listen to with a candle burning as it will show him his future.

Thanks to his sister's influence, and his mother's nurturing, the 15- year-old William (now played by Patrick Fugit) knows enough to impress Lester Bangs (played by an impossibly brilliant Phillip Seymour Hoffman) who gives him some valuable advice about being a journalist ("Don't make friends with rock stars") and his first real writing assignment: to interview Black Sabbath.

Much to his mother's horror, as she shouts "Don't take drugs" one more time for good measure, William goes off into the night. His sparkling insight gets William in with a band called Stillwater, who call all journalists "the enemy" but trust William because he seems sincere and impressionable. He also meets and becomes besotted with a lovely, winsome groupie named Penny Lane (Kate Hudson), the leader of a breed of young women who call themselves Band Aids, and who are there "for the music."

William's life changes literally overnight when he gets an assignment from Rolling Stone to go on the road with Stillwater, which he appears to do for two reasons, one is most definitely to be near Penny Lane, the other is that this is a boy who wants to grow up fast, who wants to do more with his life than become a lawyer. He knows he's not cool, but that isn't going to stop him from fulfilling his irrational dreams.

And just like that, he is thrust into a world that will grow him up fast, teach him about what it means to be an "objective" as opposed to "subjective" journalist, what it means to love, what it means to have god-like power over fans, and what it means to see those gods stripped down to human size. And of course, what it means to be deflowered by three groupies in a hotel room.

In one sense, this is Crowe's most personal in a career of very personal films. It's as autobiographical as Scorsese's Mean Streets or as nostalgic as Woody Allen's Radio Days. But in another sense, it is a film for everyone, both those who were touched by this era of rock and those who just remember that fleeting second when the world didn't slow down.

Crowe's film is perhaps made as much by the insightful, hilarious writing, as it is by the magnificent performances throughout, including newcomer Fugit, who holds the film together with his odd mix of old soul and innocence; The chameleon-like Billy Crudup plays Stillwater's lead guitarist Russell, who sums up the typical rock god, moody and wordless, difficult and cruel. Yet Crowe isn't satisfied to deliver a cliche, and he takes Russell's character farther than expected, as he does with all of his characters. And Kate Hudson is a ball of light in motion, finding varying levels inside Penny Lane, the things that makes her alluring and tragic at the same time.

Dangerously close to stealing the film are Frances McDormand and Phillip Seymour Hoffman, who creates yet another original, memorable character in Lester Bangs. Both will likely be nominated for Oscars along with Hudson, Crudup and Crowe. Hoffman is fast becoming this generation's Jack Nicholson. Is there a part he can't play?

Crowe has come a long way. He has laid his heart on the line, learned from his mistakes and survived it all with his vulnerability intact. He is a modern-day Capra, secure enough to make us feel. He is the flipside of Martin Scorsese, another director for whom rock music is like oxygen in the blood.

This is a film for everyone, not just we precious few who still keep
records stacked up in our living rooms for loyalty's sake. It's a
retelling of The Great Gatsby; an homage to Don't Look Back, a gracious thank-you note to Crowe's own mother and to those who helped and inspired him along the way.

But mostly it's the work of an artist on top of his game, finally catching up to himself, no longer the wunderkind but a wonder nonetheless.

CineScene 2000