Almost Famous Reviewed

ROVIN' AND RAVIN' WITH MIKE

Too Sweet for Rock and Roll

Director Cameron Crowe has often integrated rock and roll into his work, using the music to add another dimension to his characters and stories alike. Perhaps that is because like the young man in his latest release, Almost Famous, he was a teenage journalist who wrote about rock in the Seventies. It may also have something to do with his marriage to Nancy Wilson of Heart, who provides the original score for Almost Famous.

It is very hard to make a nice film about nice people, basically being nice to each other. That is what Crowe does quite nicely, however, even though at times in the current film, he gets tangled up in the fine lines of goodness and decency, even innocence, which aren't exactly the qualities you expect in a film about rock musicians and journalists. While the film acknowledges the sex and drugs part of the equation, it never catches the self-destructive extremes of indulgence and irrationality that make rock the music we love to love or love to hate... maybe even hate to love (a recent innovation for me). Crowe's light touch leaves his movie at times the cinematic equivalent of Muzak. You recognize what is going on, but you realize how much is missing. But, if we must be nice, then this is very nice Muzak indeed.

Strangely enough, the film this most reminds me of is My Dog Skip, because in its own way, it is a tale of growing up in a historical period that now may be fading a little bit around the edges. The edge to this film comes from the sharp, brilliant performances of some actors we expect such things from—most notably Frances McDormand and Philip Seymour Hoffman—and even from newcomer Patrick Fugit.

As the young journalist, William, who is described as "too sweet for rock and roll," he seems to be acting the part of an actor, experimenting with the roles and masks that his premature adult lifestyle demands. His emotional range may be a lacking, but, hey, he carries out his responsibilities so well that he has nothing to be ashamed of. While I'm just calling attention to what to me are the most memorable performances, Crowe once again demonstrates how well he can keep his actors focused on the goals of the ensemble.

Almost Famous makes up for its lack of narrative drive with its richness of characterization and situation, typical of a film by Cameron Crowe. Part of the texture of the film comes from the quilting of rock standards from the seventies into a surprisingly consistent soundtrack, especially surprising when you consider that the soundtrack ranges from Simon and Garfunkel and Cat Stevens to The Who and Led Zeppelin. The film runs just a bit over two hours, but it seems longer. It moves along at a good pace for about the first half, but it bogs down in bits of situation comedy and even soap opera. Maybe that is because there never is any sense of danger. The characters survive drug overdoses, bad acid trips, and casual sex with no scars. One special problem I have is with the almost ritualistic "deflowering" of young William by three girls. I wonder how a similar scene with three boys and one girl would have played.

Nonetheless, Almost Famous is a very watchable film. Even characters that could so easily be reduced to stereotypes—the egotistical musicians (Billy Crudup and Jason Lee), the overbearing mother (McDermond), the groupy (played by the hauntingly lovely Kate Hudson) in love with the idea of being in love—are shown with all their dimensions.

But, that gets me back to my one complaint about this otherwise impressive film. The music and its accompanying lifestyle do not come through in stereo. Perhaps in trying to protect his youthful alter ego, Crowe has turned down the volume a bit too much for all of us. There are drugs, there is a bit of nudity, and the language is about what you would expect. But, for the tastes of this unreconstructed child of the sixties, this film makes it just a little too easy to keep your feet dry (without your toes tapping) and your heart full of noble thoughts, and that's the job of Rovin' and Ravin', not rollin' and rockin'.