Crowe’s film is a glorious reconstruction of the rock and
roll scene of the early 70s – and I can imagine anyone with fond memories of it
will find much to love here. It’s not just the fashions and hairstyles, but the
glorious capturing of a mood. The whole film is a celebration of a time that
felt freer and more idealistic, where the actions and words of a rock band
could feel like the most important, beautiful thing in the world. The film is
not just nostalgia but also a celebration of a mood of hopefulness that
embodied an era.
It’s also a coming-of-age story, as a boy-becomes-a-man.
Patrick Fugit is very endearing as a kid no one can quite believe is 15, even
though every moment seems to hammer home his fresh-faced innocence. But then
it’s not a complete surprise since, thanks to his strong-willed mother having
moved him up a class at school and led him to believe he is older than he is. Nevertheless,
this is the sort of trip that shapes someone, finding friendship, love,
belonging, betrayal, righteous anger and acceptance along the way. All of this is
backdropped by the shift of rock and roll becoming something corporations used to
make a lot of money.
Stillwater are just on the cusp of this, still clinging to
the fun of bussing from gig-to-gig, enjoying the mood, the songs and (of course)
the girls. The film is also a celebration in a way of their coming-of-age, the
tour starting in a ramshackle bus and ending on a sleek private jet, with
accommodation switching from the bus to plush hotels. And along the way, they
are trying to work out what they hell they are doing as much as William is.
Perhaps that’s why the film feels like it captures the era so well – wasn’t everyone
flailing around in the 70s trying to work out if they belonged to the hedonism
of the 60s or what would become the Reagonism of the 80s?
But it’s still rock ‘n’ roll, best embodied by Billy
Crudup’s charismatic turn as Band icon Russell Hammond. Crudup is all grungy
magnetism and shuffling emotional gentleness under the surface of rock star
swagger. Not that it stops him from moments of egotism, selfishness and pomposity.
You can see why tensions are sometimes high in the band, with the rest of its
members often seen as jut Russell’s support group (a band t-shirt causes fury
when it shows Russell in the foreground with the other four as shadowy outlines
behind him). Russell takes William under his wing, perhaps because he recognises
the youth and fragility in William. Or maybe he just likes the hero-worship.
Because one of the dangers of getting close to these stars
is getting sucked into hero worship. William is after all a journalist who
needs to maintain objectivity. He’s even warned about it by his mentor, fabled
music writer Lester Bangs (Philip Seymour Hoffman in a charismatic cameo) that
the biggest danger is succumbing to the charms of the celebrity: these are
after all, people who have made it their mission in life to be liked. They’re
going to be good at it.
Getting in their airspace can be a dangerous place, as discovered by leading Band Aid Penny Lane, played with a luminous, radiant warmth by Kate Hudson. Penny is a devoted fan, enraptured with being part of the scene and with her self-proclaimed role as muse to the artists. Based on a personal friend of Crowe’s – and, one supposes, his real-life first love – it’s Penny who draws William into this life, looks out for him, cares for him (a favour he is to return in kind). She starts an affair with Russell – but is banished when Russell’s girlfriend rejoins the tour, jokingly traded in a card game with another band for a crate of beer (a reveal Hudson plays with a beautiful mix of devastation and valiant nonchalance). It’s not that Russell’s a bad guy, more that he can’t cope with complexities.
So, you can see why William’s Mum – played with a
larger-than-life mix of bullish determination, smothering love and
control-freak determination by Frances McDormand – is so worried about him.
It’s a sign of the film’s overall warmth (and Crowe’s well-adjusted personality!)
that McDormand’s character is treated with the same affection and admiration as
everyone else and the love between mother and son is never in doubt. She is responsible
for some of the film’s highlights, not least a phone call to Russell where her
natural authority quickly reduces him to the overgrown schoolboy he is at
heart.
And Almost Famous is a very funny film, riffing off
various true life rock-and-roll road trip stories, from raucous parties to
accidental electrocutions, like a slightly straighter version of Spinal Tap.
It’s capped by a hilarious near-disaster plane flight, where the end seems in
sight, leading to a series of ‘confessions’ that become more and more heated
and factious as they go on. It’s a film that shows some of the warts of the
characters – just as William’s article eventually will for Stillwater – but
also their many, many beauty spots. People make mistakes and hurt each other,
but life goes on – and we take the punches, but they don’t define us.
Perhaps that’s a big part of growing up: and it’s a
growing-of-age film for three characters: William, Penny and Russell. All three
of these characters find themselves drawn together, all of them spiritually so
close. They hurt each other, betray each other, but they all love each other.
It’s a hopeful message, a glorious celebration of a time and era.
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