Almost Cool...Or How I Learned to Stop Posturing and Like This Painfully Earnest Movie*
I went to Almost Famous expecting to loathe it. Why, you may wonder. Well, since the reviews of Almost Famous have been nearly unanimously positive, I figured I’d have to pick it apart, just to prove how cool I was. Now I’m not actually cool, but I like to think I am, and the one sure thing I know about being cool is that it’s cool to hate things everybody else loves. Everybody knows that. Well, everybody except William Miller, director Cameron Crowe’s teenage rock journalist stand-in/protagonist in Almost Famous, and, apparently, Cameron Crowe himself.
Now, like I said, I’m not actually cool, so I found a lot to love about this movie, albeit with some nagging hipster reservations. The film centers around the story of fifteen-year old William and his quest to become cool or a rock journalist – apparently the two are mutually exclusive. Through the great good fortune of being sweet and loveable, he’s sent on an assignment to interview Black Sabbath by the legendary (and ultra-cool) rock critic Lester Bangs. While William doesn’t get the interview, he does manage to hook up with Stillwater, a band which serves as an amalgam of all that was wrong with 70s rock music, and experience the sweet nectar that is being cool for the first time in his life. He also gets the biggest assignment of his life – to tour with and interview his new pals Stillwater for Rolling Stone!
But all is not roses and candy for little William. While he vainly tries to make progress on getting to “the truth” of rock stardom in the chaos surrounding him, William falls in love with the band’s head groupie, Penny Lane, the girl he can never have because she’s in love with Russell, Stillwater’s charismatic guitarist. William also must battle his mother’s reservations about letting her teenage son run wild with rock stars (Mom is uncool). Throughout it all, William faces the ultimate question – does he write the truth about his rock star buddies’ lifestyles and risk being doomed to a life of unpopularity and never getting laid, or does he write a puff piece and turn into a major league sellout at the tender age of fifteen? Along the way he learns a little about love, life, rock and roll, and yes, boys and girls, he learns a little about himself too. Stripped to its barest essence, this cheese is the plot of Almost Famous, and the reason why it should be primed for a takedown by movie and music critics alike.
But no critic has done it, and most likely none will (until this movie gets to Britain, and then watch the venom fly!). I would say it’s almost impossible for critics, even usually cynical ones, to be objective about this movie. I read somewhere that Crowe calls this movie his love letter to music, but music really seems to take a back seat here, despite the often-wonderful soundtrack (the horrible Stillwater stuff aside. Stillwater suuuucks.). I’d say it’s really a love letter to being a professional critic. Most critics see themselves in the idealized hero William, and since critics of any kind are rarely portrayed in a positive light anywhere, whether in fiction or real life, this movie feels like a vindication.
And for that reason, even though I’m just an Epinions reviewer who wishes she were a rock journalist who wished she were a rock star, it’s hard for me to fault this movie too, even though it’s almost painfully earnest at times. Crowe goes for the big cinematic moments, the big life moments. Every little thing in this movie seems to take on epic proportions, from William’s sister leaving home to “look for America” (as an airline stewardess?) to the bus ride sing-along to Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer,” to the band members’ spewing of nasty truths when they think they’re about to die in a plane crash. Even though Crowe is essentially telling his own life story, his stand-in is a black and white movie hero, his supporting characters are archetypes, his “autobiography” full of big moments of truth and tests of honor. And because this is the way we’d like our lives to be, and the type of hero/ine we always envision ourselves as when we mentally write out our life stories, the effect is almost irresistible.
Nearly all the performances are outstanding. Patrick Fugit as William is all wide-eyed, snails and puppy dog tails loveable, and when he does those little scowls that let you know he’s having a moral dilemma you just want to snatch him up and put him in your pocket for being so cute. Billy Crudup, who usually makes me hurl epithets at the screen in an effort to wipe that silly smirk off his face, is actually very engaging at times as Russell. I love the scenes where he and William hang out in Topeka with “real people,” an age-old rock star pretension just as lame as the band’s assertions that rock and roll is life.
Grudgingly I must concede that Botticelli-painting-come-to-life Kate Hudson is nearly perfect as uber-groupie Penny Lane – hell, I’d fall madly in love with her too (Real reason blondes have more fun – every time you see a blonde-haired woman on screen her hair is backlit so that it looks like she’s wearing a halo. We brunettes really don’t stand a chance). And Philip Seymour Hoffman’s scenes as Lester Bangs are reason enough to see this movie, at least until someone (please don’t let it be Cameron Crowe – I don’t want Bangs’ rants polished up and sanitized for an Oscar campaign) adapts this year’s Bangs biography Let It Blurt for the big screen. Hoffman’s Bangs is sloppy, cynical, and brilliantly funny; in essence, everything a rock critic should be. My only regret acting-wise is that Jason Lee (a true cool kid’s hero) isn’t given more opportunity to shine as Stillwater’s jealous lead singer.
In the end, William decides to suck it up and write “the truth” and be “uncool” like his hero Lester Bangs. And I guess I will too- there’s no point in denying it, unless you’re really and truly cool, you’re going to love this movie.
Postscript: The bus ride sing-along that everyone is going to cite as their favorite scene is the absolute proof that this movie is not cool. I recently hosted a party of twenty-somethings where someone actually suggested we have a sing-along. After staring at her in abject horror, we all shouted the idea down mercilessly. The fact that no one on the Stillwater bus, including William, did the same thing showed emphatically that Stillwater were not cool and no Rolling Stone cover story, no matter how glowing, was ever going to obscure that sad truth.
* This is my real title. For some reason, Epinions won't let me give my reviews epic-length titles anymore.
A semi-autobiographical account of how Cameron Crowe got his start in the journalistic world. A young boy is given his first assignment: to cover an u...More at HotMovieSale.com
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