"Almost Famous"

The mad clutter of characters that flit through "Almost Famous" makes it, in the end, into a movie about lots of things: youthful dreams coming almost unbelievably true, journalistic integrity, both the scummy and the joyful sides of rock 'n' roll life in general and a fond but clear-eyed reminiscence of what rock 'n' roll was like in the early '70s. We're talking about the time before the movements that defined the decade and have long outlasted it (punk and disco), when a rock fan's record collection was likely to contain classics like "Rubber Soul" and "Blonde on Blonde" as well as soon-to-be classics like "The Allman Brothers Live at the Fillmore East" and "Led Zeppelin IV"; it was also likely to contain the progressive drivel of Yes, the sensitive singer-songwriter musings of Jackson Browne and, God help us, Cat Stevens -- even eccentric and now forgotten one-shots like Thunderclap Newman. (A number of these artists are represented on the movie's soundtrack.)

One of the movie's most affecting moments comes when a 12-year-old William pulls out the secret treasure that his sister (wide-eyed and expressive Zooey Deschanel), who has left home because she just can't deal with their mother, has bequeathed to him: It's a stash of old rock albums, from "Pet Sounds" to "Axis: Bold as Love," and William flips through them, now and then brushing his hand across an especially appealing cover. His life will change as of that first crackle and pop after the needle drops.

William might have discovered rock 'n' roll by listening to the bands his buddies liked, but it's a woman who introduces him to its joys. It's also a woman who tries, desperately, to keep him away from them, out of well-meaning but misguided protectiveness. William's mother, Elaine, a college professor, has clearly been feeding William's intelligence and curiosity all his life; you can't blame her for thinking rock 'n' roll is a lousy route to enlightenment, because she clearly just doesn't understand it. But as McDormand plays her, she's all quivering mother-hen anxiety, grounded, somehow, in the Socratic method. You can see how she's torn between having to accept that William has to find all the answers for himself and the conviction that he should be finding them her way. Her disappointment when he misses his own high school graduation is palpable, but her pride in his smarts, and her belief that he always has been and always will be a Good Boy, never wavers.

Patrick Fugit's William, with his button nose and mysterious kitty-cat smile, is eminently likable but ultimately a little opaque -- but that's the only honest way to play the character. Few people, at 15, are fully formed individuals, and William's psyche is an uneven landscape of reflective surfaces and highly absorbent ones. He's learning how to intelligently process the dazzle of the people around him, but he also can't help reveling in it, further magnifying their grandness by letting some of it bounce off him.

You might criticize Crowe for leaving William's character so undeveloped, but to me the choice seems baldly intentional. William sees the faults of his newfound friends -- he's too astute not to -- but he can't help liking them. That approach is practically Crowe's trademark as a director. In previous pictures like "Jerry Maguire" and "Say Anything ...," he made sure that we saw his characters' flaws, but his affection for them always shone through too. Maybe that's the kind of thing you learn from hanging out with rock stars at a young age.

It's telling, too, that "Almost Famous" contains a character whom Crowe seems to love even more than he does William: Penny Lane, played by Hudson with an intuitive lucidity that recalls the best work of her mother, Goldie Hawn. She's the figure who emerges from the movie with the most clarity. Then again, she also carries a measure of mystery usually reserved for the subjects of medieval ballads and poems based on Arthurian legend. Her physical beauty, defined by creamy skin and quivering gold ringlets, speaks of youthful rock royalty not yet gone -- and perhaps, with any luck, not ever going -- to seed.

Next Page: The embodiment of the girl whom everyone wanted to sleep with -- or be

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