Gimme a Thousand Words on ‘Almost Famous’
The Scoop features personal essays on movie-centric topics.
By Kevin Prchal
When I first saw Cameron Crowe’s seminal 2000 coming of age film Almost Famous, I was coming of age myself.
And much like its starry-eyed protagonist William Miller, I loved music, writing was my best subject, girls were Penny Lane-levels of mystery to me, and I was plainly and dreadfully uncool. I felt seen, as they say.
But to paraphrase William’s sister Anita as she divinely hands him a copy of Tommy by The Who, when I watched this film for the first time it was as if I lit a candle and saw my whole future.
No, I didn’t go on to tour with a famous rock band. I didn’t fool Rolling Stone magazine into thinking I was older so that I could write for them. And I certainly wasn’t deflowered by a swarm of mystical women. Those stories can be found in the pages of one man’s life and one man’s life only.
Instead, the future I saw was one that forever included this heart-soaked, intergenerational, Broadway-bound instant classic of a film. And over 20 years later, here we are. Through the ups, downs, and long journey to the middle of my life, Almost Famous has remained my all-time favorite movie.
While I knew this film would be with me forever, I couldn’t have predicted how it would change with me as I moved through life.
Real people, real feelings
Now late into my thirties, I have two life-affirming daughters who routinely refine and reinvigorate the way I see the world. Which is why on a recent watch of the film, I was less aware of William’s coming of age mishaps and more attentive to the ways other characters changed in his orbit.
His mother Elaine (played warmly and neurotically by the great Frances McDormand) is fiercely protective of her son. She has a chokehold on what he can and can’t listen to, what his chosen profession will be (law), and yes, even how old he is (if it means him getting ahead in school).
But as he grows into himself, she loosens her grip on his life (albeit whistle in-hand) and watches through her fingers as he’s swallowed whole by rock ’n’ roll. Or as she puts it: “Rockstars have kidnapped my son!"
His mentor, the jaded and eccentric rock journalist Lester Bangs (played to perfection by Philip Seymour Hoffman), at first doesn’t have time to stand around talking to his many fans. “So you’re the kid who’s been sending me those articles from the school newspaper,” he says with all the patience of a tortured writer.
But he quickly lightens up at the sight of William’s innocence and determination and imparts his honest and unmerciful wisdom to him at every turn throughout the film. “Friendship is the booze they feed you. They want you to get drunk on feeling like you belong.”
His subject, the cool and confident lead guitarist Russell Hammond (played effortlessly by Billy Crudup) is kind on the surface but ultimately more concerned with how he and his band Stillwater will be portrayed in William’s story. He dodges interviews with William in exchange for hotel pool parties, afternoon binges with Penny, and suburban rooftop acid trips fit for a Golden God.
It’s in the film’s final moments, when Russell thinks he’s visiting Penny but learns that she gave him William’s address instead, that he sets aside his ego and steps into William’s bedroom as if seeing him for the first time. In light of Stillwater denying William’s story to Rolling Stone, he lays down his armor at last and tells him: “I called your magazine. I told them every word you wrote was true.”
Turns out even a rockstar with their face on the cover of Rolling Stone has the capacity for arena-sized humility and growth. Or as Elaine Miller says to him, “There’s hope for you yet, Russell.”
And finally, his true love Penny Lane (played unforgettably by then-newcomer Kate Hudson), is a certified enigma. She flits in and out of William’s sight like a firefly, inspiring just enough awe, wonder, and hormonal spasms to keep him chasing her with his Mason jar at the ready. No one even knows her real name, and that’s precisely by her design. “If ya never take it seriously, ya never get hurt. Ya never get hurt, ya always have fun,” she sermonizes.
But her carefree lifestyle comes to a rude awakening after learning that Russell “sold” her to Humble Pie for $50 and a case of beer. “What kind of beer?” she asks, both smiling and with tears in her eyes. It’s a perfect cinematic moment painfully revealing the dissonance between her facade and her reality. William had caught her at last.
In the end, her growth is demonstrated both in her priority for herself and William. She could have easily given Russell her address and thrown herself to the wind again, but she thought of William: that sweet, innocent kid who opened her eyes and saved her Morocco-bound life.
A miracle of a movie
While my daughters are much younger than William, I know what it’s like to be changed by innocence. To see the world through a lens untarnished by grief, cynicism, and anxiety. And just like Elaine, Lester, Russell, and Penny—I know what it’s like to want to protect and nurture that innocence.
One of the reasons coming of age stories are so beloved is because we see ourselves in them. We are all destined to pass through the fiery gates of puberty. But what Almost Famous shows us is that one’s coming of age changes everyone—those in the throes of it, and those in the crossfire.
Over 20 years after its release, Almost Famous is still a miracle of a movie. Its giant Crowe-shaped heart offers up something for every season of life. Who knows what I’ll take away from it 30 years from now, but one thing’s certain as I move through the years: Whenever I get lonely, I’ll just go to my Blu-ray player and visit my friends.
Kevin Prchal is co-founder and editorial director of Cinema Sugar.