In
the year 1973, I was about two years away
from the same rock and roll epiphany that
William Miller has at the beginning of Cameron
Crowe's almost perfect look at rock and
roll. (It's actually Crowe's second look
at music, with 1992's SINGLES taking a romantic-comic
peek at the Seattle alternative scene.)
Miller's cosmic rebirth comes
at the hands of his sister Anita who leaves
home but bestows her vinyl collection on
the rock-critic-to-be. And what a collection!
'Pet Sounds' and 'Tommy,' as well as some
Stones, Dylan, Jimi, Cream, and Led Zeppelin,
just to name a few. My musical education
came, not at the hands of my sister, but
an older brother who turned me on over the
years to Bowie, Zappa, T. Rex, Ramones,
Sex Pistols, Tom Waits, and many more in
a continuing, ever-evolving musical education.
Watching those opening scenes was as close
as I've ever come to going back in time,
and I admittedly got choked up when Anita
(Zooey Deschanel) looks into her brother's
eyes and tells him, "You'll be cool
one day." JT and I have said goodbye
so many times through the years you'd think
it would be easy to do, but I still get
misty...he's had a similarly profound effect
on my life.
But enough of my yakkin'!
Crowe uses this short, opening
sequence to show us how powerful music is,
and what a large part it can play in our
lives. Especially when we find a band we
can put in our back pocket and call "mine."
(For me, that band was The Replacements,
but that's another story.) 15-year-old William
(Patrick Fugit, who seems to grow, mature,
shrink, and grow as the film goes on) has
found that band in Stillwater, mid-America
rockers with medium popularity but extra-large
egos at its core. After submitting pieces
to and chatting with legendary 'Creem' editor
Lester Bangs (in a performance by Philip
Seymour Hoffman that's so real you can almost
smell the cough syrup), William finds himself
tagging along with the band, their crew,
and the lovely 'band aids' while he writes
a piece for 'Rolling Stone.' The Band Aids
(featuring Kate Hudson as Penny Lane and
the delicious Anna Pacquin, grrrr!) may
sleep and take drugs with the members, but
they're not groupies, a PC nod that rings
false and is one of the film's few flaws.
And William couldn't be faced
with a more dysfunctional band; one hesitates
to call them a "group." Lead singer
Jeff Bebe (Jason Lee in another great performance)
is the kind of guy who talks about "connecting"
with the audience, but isn't above wearing
a shirt with his own likeness on it. Billy
Crudup plays Russell Hammond, the mysterious
guitarist who knows that he's holding himself
back by playing with these guys, but who
can't walk away due to a fear of...? Who
knows, with Crudup's anti-hero it may be
a fear of success and failure rolled up
into one insecure ball. It sure doesn't
help that the record label is pushing the
band toward bigger things while pushing
Hammond as the frontman.
Penny and William are our
eyes and ears into this world, a world teetering
on the edge of glam and punk, commercialization
and MTV. Bangs may think it's time for the
death rattle of rock and roll, but it might
actually be the last moments of purity.
Once
again, Crowe has written a screenplay that
hits with remarkable realism and sincerity.
His characters talk the way real people
talk, and face the same insecurities. Luckily,
he resists the urge to have Penny and William
get together at the end, though I think
every critic out there was hoping to have
the lanky, uncool scribe land the winsome
Penny. (Right? Right?) And, with a cast
of people you might know, but probably couldn't
name, the flick achieves a believability
that wouldn't be possible with names in
the leads.
Bravo to Crowe, as well
as Hudson, Crudup, Lee, Hoffman, and Frances
McDormand as William's anti-drug, anti-rock,
college prof mom. It's a wonderfully comic,
but heartfelt, turn as the pesty mom who
freaks out band members, groupies, and hotel
clerks with her phone calls.
