|
Directed by: Cameron Crowe Starring: Patrick Fugit, Kate Hudson, Billy Crudup, Philip Seymour Hoffman Minor spoilers. Looking on she sings the songs The words she knows, the tune she hums -- "Tiny Dancer," Elton John What a rare and wonderful movie Almost Famous is. A far cry from the flashy, hipper-than-thou Jerry Maguire, it's the story of Cameron Crowe's tennage years; years spent touring with huge rock groups (in this case the ficticious, aptly-named Stillwater) and writing for huge magazines (in this case the very real Rolling Stone). It's a hard movie to summarize, not because the plot is so complex -- this sentimental little film is hardly Videodrome, after all -- but because a mere summary does not convey just how well it works, or, for that matter, why it works. See, Almost Famous concerns the allure of celebrity, the hedonism of the rock 'n roll culture, the glamour of wealth, the trials and tribulations of making it to the top, the joy and pain of parenting, and the very nature of music. It's a love story. It's a "coming-of-age" saga. It's all of that glitzy bullshit you could ever want in a movie. But it's not about any of that. All of that is, to borrow a phrase from the film itself, an offshoot of what it's really about -- love, in all its forms and all its guises. At heart, Almost Famous is merely the story of a kid and the things he loves. Early in the film, the Stillwater guitarist (Billy "totally loving awesome" Crudup) takes the protagonist aside and tells him: "A song like 'What's Going On.' That single 'woo' at the end of the second verse - you know that woo - that single 'woo.' That's what you remember. The silly things, the little things... there's only one, and it makes the song. It's what you leave out. That's rock and roll." In much the same way, it's the silly little "woo"s that we take back from Almost Famous. The way Crudup suddenly hits his whammie board in the middle of "Fever Dog," the manager patting him on the back in the famous "Tiny Dancer" scene, everyone's obsession with the Polaroid camera, Penny Lane's dance on the empty stage, Ben Fong-Torres' naivette. The little things, man. The atypical stuff. That's where Almost Famous nails it, because it understands that you can't merely have the pretense of likeable characters, you have to actually have characters that the audience likes and can relate to. Kate Hudson, for instance, is totally believable in her role as the girl who "makes every hotel room feel like home." A good deal of her performance's strength comes from the very subtle way she shifts her mood around different crowds. Watch out for it, it's a believable (I swear I know her exact double) and humanizing trait, enriching both the character and the film. And as great as Hudson is, none of the other actors are overshadowed; no matter how small the role (the lone exception, Jimmy Fallon, is vindicated in the director's cut, where his character is more than just a gloried cameo). It would be untenable to mention the acting in the film without lavishing praise on Frances McDormand. McDormand plays perhaps the toughest role in the film, that of the over-protective, mildly-zealous mother. She's used mostly for comedic effect ("Rock stars have kidnapped my son," she deadpans.), but the important thing is that she doesn't want to be. The humor is drawn only from the fact that she's out-of-step with the world. We understand that she means well, and grow to care about her in that foregiving sort of way you care about family members. As good as McDormand is, once again, nobody is overshadowed. Crowe seems to make a special effort to let each scene reveal something about many characters. Take the phone conversation between McDormand and Crudup. In accusing Crudup of throwing brain cells away "like confetti," McDormand reveals a heartfelt desire to see her son succeed, yet in speaking moments later about his "chosen profession," (William, I hasten to remind you, is 15 and seemingly without direction) she betrays the fact that she's only interested in seeing him succeed on her terms -- wasting away in a conservative, high-paying job. At the same time, Crudup's sudden passiveness and his constant repetition of "ma'am" (the only instance I can recall where anyone is addressed respectfully) show a strange sort of desire for parental authority; yet his ability to bounce back almost instantly reinforces his true passion for the lifestyle. And with a single shot of his eager face, Crowe deftly reminds us just how young and impressionable the protagonist really is. It's a masterfully done scene -- far from the only one to be found (or, indeed, the best). The cinematography, too, deserves praise. John Toll's images are never flashy or over-stylized, organic enough that we never once are taken out of the film, and yet manage to capture images of simple beauty -- from a Midwestern sunset to Patrick Fugit quietly falling in love in the undulating lights of a concert. At times it takes on a Hopper-esque quality, with that distinctly American pale orange light shining down (especially in the scenes on the ubiquitious tour bus). Through careful editing, angles, and lighting, it never once looks cramped or dull. It always comes off as an intimate, warm place to rest. It looks and feels like, well, like home. Now, what else is there to praise? Ah, of course, the music. From Elton John and Cat Stevens to Iggy Pop and Black Sabbath, Crowe leaves no stone unturned. Yet it all flows, with every song perfectly reflecting the mood of the moment. Somehow, shifts like Cat Steven's "The Wind" to Led Zep's "Misty Mountain Hop" feel diagetic and natural. It all culminates in what I consider the best song of the era, Zeppelin's "Tangerine." All these elements combine to form a near-perfect celebration of life and in the process capture a few scant moments of simple truth. For example, the aforementioned "Tiny Dancer" scene, in which the band is divided over the guitarist's behavior. Quittings and cancellations loom over their heads and they all mull in silence as the Elton John tune plays on the radio. One by one, they begin to bob their heads in time as the song absorbs them. After a tense minute or so, the bassist begins to sing along. Soon they all start, and we have a bus full of people remembering what it means to be a fan -- it is the music that brought them together in the first place and when things look their dimmest, it is the music which mends their broken spirits. There's no tearful confessions, no melodramatic apologies; just an unspoken mutual love. A love not just of the music, but of having someone to share the music with. Someone who knows the words same as you do. RATING: 5.5 PROS: Acting, direction, cinemotography, music. CONS: The Mick Jagger line is a bit much. ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0181875/
|
#
?
Dec 7, 2005 05:38
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 19, 2024 14:22 |
|