A Surprisingly Sweet Tale Of Life With A Rock Band

If one were asked to name some of the preeminent American directors working today, I’m sure such veteran names as Scorsese, Lucas and Spielberg might come up, as well as more recent ones such as P.T. Anderson, Spike Lee, Steven Soderbergh, and Quentin Tarantino. To this list I would add writer-director Cameron Crowe, a quiet sort whose films, ranging from Say Anything... to Jerry Maguire, all have a real tenderness and conviction about them.

Though Jerry Maguire is a personal favorite of this reviewer, Crowe’s latest, Almost Famous, is undoubtedly his most heartfelt — and arguably his best — film yet.

Set in 1973 and loosely based on Crowe’s own experiences of being a rock ‘n roll writer for Rolling Stone magazine at the ripe old age of 15, Almost Famous follows the adventures of precocious, yet wide-eyed youth William Miller (newcomer Patrick Fugit), who basks in the cynical wisdom of his idol Lester Bangs (Philip Seymour Hoffman), a iconoclastic music journalist who warns his attentive pupil that rock’s best days are over and its soul has been sold to commercialism. He also advises his young charge to beware the ills of covering rock music: the drugs, the sex and the illusion that he is “in” with the band when all they really want is to eventually look good in his story.

Bangs’ warnings turn prophetic when William, covering a Black Sabbath concert for his mentor, gets a call from Rolling Stone and is given the job of chronicling the band that is opening for Black Sabbath, an up-and-coming group called Stillwater. Much to the chagrin of Bangs and especially William’s staunch, protective mother (Frances McDormand), the young lad leaves home to follow the band as they tour the country. Bangs fears that young William will “make friends” with the rock stars and thus his perspective, and ability to write an unbiased piece, will be compromised; William’s mother, on the other hand, fears for her son’s safety and integrity, praying that he does not become spellbound by the rock stars and their life. William’s older sister, having felt stifled by mom’s tight grip, has already left home, and mother fears she may lose her son as well.

Families, both the ones we’re born into and the ones we make, are central to Almost Famous. While on the road, William is befriended by the band’s most charismatic personality, lead guitarist Russell (Billy Crudup), who teasingly calls the young journalist “the enemy.” Inevitably, William becomes privy to the band’s inner struggles — such as Russell’s clashes with the band’s lead singer, Jeff (Jason Lee), who feels his central role is being usurped – and falls head-over-heels for Penny Lane (Kate Hudson), one of Stillwater’s “band aids” (female fans, otherwise known as groupies) who is nursing a crush on Russell. William becomes embroiled in the band’s life, and his mother, who repeatedly calls to check in on him, worries that he will become emotionally invested in a life that is merely a façade.

Almost Famous is endearing, immensely likable and vastly entertaining. Although Crowe’s experiences and situations are unique, he is able to convey the universality of his characters’ feelings and insecurities. As writer and director, Crowe is to be highly credited for the way in which his tale seems to leap off the screen and into the audience’s heart, but also give fair due to his actors, who are uniformly excellent.  Fugit is endearing in the central role and Crudup is appropriately charming and energetic as Russell. Hoffman is a scene-stealer as the skeptical yet truthful Bangs, and Hudson is appropriately radiant (and eerily reminiscent at times of real-life mom Goldie Hawn) as the idealized Penny Lane.  Lastly, McDormand brings real depth to a role that in lesser movies could have simply become the stereotypical, overbearing, stiff-necked parent.

Almost Famous, rated R for profanity, drug content and brief nudity, is actually a really sweet, heartwarming film that effectively evokes its time period but also conveys more universal truths and experiences.