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I remark: "So have I."
Each certain that we are speaking of the same film, practically in unison we both inquire: Almost Famous? The answer is affirmative. All that remains now is to discuss the film and exchange notes. This way I can steal all his good ideas. You'll enjoy doing the same with your pals.
The fellow scribe and I are from different generations. So I am gratified by his ebullient approval of the work in question. The teen-aged ticket seller the night before offered a like opinion, but I still wasn't sure. Since writer-director Cameron Crowe's extraordinary coming-of-age story set in 1973 speaks so very eloquently and enchantingly to my Baby Boomer sensibilities, I feared that a nostalgia-driven egocentricity might be clouding my objectivity.
But the words "transcend" and "universal" are so readily appropriate in describing this saga about an aspiring, 15-year-old journalist's watershed experience whilst touring with a rock 'n' roll band. And after all, one doesn't have to be a leftover Victorian to appreciate the life lessons of Tom Brown's School Days.
Such is the calibre of effort under discussion here. For starters, it is certainly one of the finest movies about the life and times of a rock 'n' roll band. But it's much more than just a backstage drama. And if you accept this humble auditor's theory that the 1960s actually last until Nixon's resignation and the Patty Hearst case, then you'll also agree that Almost Famous provides the most accurate, unaffected depiction of that era since The Graduate.
Expert art direction assures that Mr. Crowe's loving, semi-autobiographical paean to a special time and place in his formative past is not riddled with those absurdly self-conscious trappings that have come to depict the period. You know the drill: Put everybody in a pair of polka-dot elephant bells stolen from a later episode of The Brady Bunch, place a joint in their hands and have them say "Hey, man" ad nauseam.
Rather, the director successfully incises a poignant slice of life. The attention to detail is commendable. For instance, the re-creation of Max's Kansas City, a watering hole in New York City where rockers went to see and be seen, is downright spooky. And by not attempting to jam-pack all the aspects of a historical epoch into a one-stop survey of the 1960s, the way several made-for-TV efforts have essentially trivialised those years, it leaves room for more important things, like story and characterisation.
Excellent acting all around propels the captivating action throughout this warmly inspired tale. Yet Frances McDormand (Fargo) is the only brand name in the ensemble. Reminiscent of the matriarchs you find in a John Irving novel, she's an ace as the wonderfully wacky Elaine Miller, existentialist, college professor and over-protective mother of William (Patrick Fugit), our aspiring rock reporter. Surreptitiously accelerating him through his educational career, she has heretofore neglected to tell her exceptionally bright son that he is three years younger than his classmates are. She is finally forced to come clean at the threatening insistence of Billy's sister, Anita (Zooey Deschanel), who, in order to escape this dominating force, runs off and becomes a stewardess. This gives Mom more time to smother our young hero.
But Elaine, though hell-bent on having her rock-reporting prodigy become a lawyer, is a loving mother despite her nuttiness. And she's no dummy. Hoping that this is just an adolescent phase that too shall pass, the worrywart drives Billy to his maiden gig and issues her first of many anti-drug warnings. Later, after he gets an assignment from Rolling Stone magazine to travel with the up-and-coming group, Stillwater, her long-distance admonitions achieve a running gag fame. But no drug will prove as mind-altering or intoxicating as the real-life odyssey Billy is about to experience.
Its premise established, Almost Famous becomes a sociologically fascinating road movie peopled by an exuberantly realised milieu of rock 'n' roll types. Even if you've spent the scantiest amount of time among this sub-culture, you'll recognise the authenticity Mr. Crowe achieves through his splendidly drawn characters.
But the two most important portrayals are those that combine with Billy to form the plot's subtle love triangle. There is Billy Crudup in a sensational turn as Russell Hammond, the upstaging, lead guitar Adonis that no successful band can be without. And then there is Kate Hudson as Penny Lane, at once the Emily Post and Irma La Douce of groupies. But like all those who become superstars of an otherwise suspect avocation, she decries the use of the term groupie. Instead, she and her Lolita-like sorority, who wholeheartedly view themselves as the only true afflatuses of their musical heartthrobs, prefer to be known as Band-Aids. Wise beyond her 16 years, sympathetic Penny takes it upon herself to guide Billy through the mores and folkways of big time rock culture.
But he also has a journalistic mentor. Contributing a performance that has best supporting actor written all over it, Philip Seymour Hoffman is simply wonderful as Lester Bangs, the editor of a small rock 'n' roll magazine who gave Billy his start. Partly jealous, but also proud of his protege's meteoric rise, he lectures him on ethics, objectivity, and the realities of their plight. "Remember, we're the uncool guys. We're the smart ones. They're the good-looking dudes. They get the chicks. Don't think you can be their friend," he warns. "That's how they get you. So just tell it like it is." And finally, noting the unwelcome incursions of big business and other befouling factors, the aficionado bemoans the imminent death of rock 'n' roll as he knows it.
Of course, as young Mr. Miller's adventure in wonderland progresses, he can't help but be drawn in by the camaraderie so enticingly offered by the ultra-hip members of Stillwater. It becomes increasingly apparent that within Lester's words of wisdom is all that one need know if they are to truly embrace this profession, let alone life in general. And therein lies the nub of conflict in Mr. Crowe's tour de force that perplexes and confounds Billy as he tries to figure out what kind of a man he hopes to become. So we cheer for him without reservation. Because with totally award-worthy direction, entirely heartfelt writing and completely perfect performances, there is nothing almost about Almost Famous.
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