September 13, 2000 | Almost Famous
is the kind of idiosyncratic and deeply personal project that usually
gets green-lit by a major
studio only after a filmmaker scores with a breakthrough commercial
smash.
Writer-director
Cameron Crowe earned his blank check with the enormously engaging Jerry
Maguire, one of the past decade's very best movies. The success
spurred him to blast into his past, to vividly evoke the era that shaped
his sensibilities - the early 1970s - without the distortions of cheap
nostalgia or sitcom trivialization. Drawing from his misadventures as
a 15-year-old rock journalist for Rolling Stone magazine, Crowe has
concocted a heartfelt but clear-eyed comedy-drama that is all the more
poignantly bittersweet for being at least partially true. Almost
Famous is a coming-of-age story, told from the compassionately bemused
viewpoint of an older and wiser adult who has somehow managed to avoid
the ravages of cynicism, and has never forgotten how lucky he was to
be in the right place at the right moment.
For
William Miller (Patrick Fugit), a San Diego teen caught between his
anxiously protective mother (Frances McDormand) and born-to-run rebellious
sister (Zooey Deschanel), 1973 is the best of all of possible times.
True, he can't count many friends among his older classmates. (Thanks
to mom, he skipped a grade or two.) But his savvy music reviews in the
school paper attract the attention of legendary rock critic Lester Bangs
(another extraordinary character turn by Philip Seymour Hoffman). Bangs
warns William against being too chummy with rock stars - "Remember,
these people are not your friends!" - and gets his young disciple
a few freelance writing gigs. The stories are noted by Rolling Stone
editor Ben Fong-Torres (a clever caricature by Terry Chen), who gives
William the dream assignment of going on the road with an up-and-coming
band named Stillwater.
In order for the dream to come true, it helps
that Fong-Torres has no idea how young William is. It also helps that,
despite her virulent disapproval of rock music and the people who perform
it, William's mother reluctantly agrees to let him make the trip. Not
that she really has much to worry about: William may get up-close and
personal with hard-living, party-hearty rockers, but he is more of an
eager witness than an active participant during their cross-country
travels. He never gets high, and remains a virgin until a group of groupies
playfully presses the issue. When William loses his innocence, his fall
from grace has nothing to do with substance abuse or sexual excess.
Even
as he details disillusionment, however, Crowe refuses to let Almost
Famous turn dark or squalid. Indeed, this may be the sweetest and
most generous-spirited movie ever made about sex, drugs and rock 'n'
roll.
The
loosely knit plot calls for William to become infatuated with Penny
Lane (Kate Hudson), a self-deluding hanger-on who insists she is a "band
aide," not a mere groupie, as she allows herself to be exploited
by Stillwater lead guitarist Russell Hammond (Billy Crudup). William
is jealous, yet he can't bring himself to hate, or even dislike, Russell.
And with good reason: When the moody rocker turns on his disarming charm,
it's easy for William - and the audience - to believe Russell accepts
the young "intruder" as a friend and confidant. It's terribly
difficult for the young writer to reconcile his high regard for Russell
with his painfully mixed feelings about Russell's cavalier treatment
of Penny.
The
movie builds towards a betrayal, a bitter irony and a near-death experience.
But then, as if to tweak us for any rash assumptions, Crowe veers away
from predictable melodrama, to offer something more richly complex and
immensely satisfying.
When it comes to citing specific reasons why
Almost Famous is altogether fabulous, it's impossible to overestimate
the importance of newcomer Patrick Fugit's lead performance. Not since
Francois Truffaut cast Jean-Pierre Leaud as Antoine Doinel in The
400 Blows has any filmmaker been so fortunate in finding an actor
to serve as his autobiographical alter ego. At once gravely serious
and exuberantly giddy as he is force-fed life lessons, William is endearingly
comical in his innocuous pursuit of truth - note the way he thrusts
his microphone at every interview subject - but Fugit encourages us
to laugh with, not at, the character. Just as important, he plays William
with the perfect amount of self-awareness, neatly balancing naiveté
and arrogance as he sees how rock 'n'roll brings out the best and worst
in himself and the folks around him.
William
is the center of the movie's universe, but there are equally rich and
fully realized characters in his orbit. Frances McDormand plays Elaine,
William's mother, with an unshakable faith in her worst suspicions,
and a remarkable talent for gale-force intimidation. (When she warns
Russell to keep her son out of harm's way, the rocker is seriously and
sincerely spooked.) But there's much more to the character, and to McDormand's
performance, than shrill intensity; for all her excess, she's also a
genuinely loving, caring and encouraging parent. Kate Hudson is nothing
short of luminous as Penny Lane, a beguiling swirl of teasing sensuality
and wistful yearning. And Billy Crudup finally gets the chance to fulfill
his bright promise as a rising star with his arresting portrayal of
Russell, the enigmatic rogue who sets a very instructive bad example
for young William.
Crowe
persuasively recreates the look and sound of the early '70s - Stillwater,
a fictional band, bears more than a passing resemblance to Lynyrd Skynyrd
- and he winningly conveys a diehard fan's boundless enthusiasm for
rock as something that makes workaday life more worth living. The music
is never mocked in Almost Famous, and the musicians - even the
self-indulgent poseurs - are only occasionally kidded. As a fortysomething
adult, Crowe knows it's only rock 'n' roll, but he still likes it. In
fact, he loves it so much, he's made a movie about the first blush of
his lifelong romance.