My Essentials: "Almost Famous" (2000, dir. Cameron Crowe)

I've decided to get one or two films in this series filed every weekend when possible. To do that, I'm giving myself a head start by posting the films on my "rack of honor" that I already wrote about last year when I was doing The Alphabet Project. Not many were done, but this should get us through "Almost Famous," "Anchorman" and the "Back to the Future" trilogy before I double-back and look at "Alien" and "Aliens." Here are my thoughts on Cameron Crowe's wonderful little drama from 2000, which is one of my all-time favorite movies.

Almost Famous

The best movies are the ones in which watching them again feels like visiting with old friends. I'm thinking of "Juno," "Lost in Translation" or "Before Sunrise." Cameron Crowe's "Almost Famous" is another one of those films, a movie that gives me a great big bear hug every time I watch it and leaves me grinning and with that warm sensation that Roger Ebert has revealed to be "elevation."

This is the pinnacle of Crowe's career. I think "Say Anything..." is one of the great love stories of the past few years and "Jerry Maguire" is a funny and intelligent studio work. But this is his most heartfelt, immersive and honest work. I think both "Vanilla Sky" and "Elizabethtown," his two most-recent works, have their merits and are unjustly maligned, but they are missing that personal, heartfelt charge that flow through his other films and culminated in an gush of nostalgia with this masterpiece--which was the best film of 2000.

William Miller (Patrick Fugit) is, of course, a thinly-veiled version of Crowe as a teen, who is hired to follow the band Stillwater for Rolling Stone at the age of 15 (they think he's much older). Despite the pleas of his tightly-wound, moralistic mother (Frances McDormand) Miller hits the road with the band and witnesses the in-fighting, parties, arguments, on-stage triumphs and love for the music that surrounded the 1970s rock scene. He makes friends with the band's guitar player, Russell Hammond (Billy Crudup) and falls in love with a groupie--er, Band Aid--named Penny Lane (Kate Hudson) and gets advice from rock journalist Lester Bangs (Phillip Seymour Hoffman).

It's tempting to describe this movie as a coming of age story, but that would give the impression that this is about William's journey and growth. But watching it again, I found that William does not really change too much over the course of the film--he loses that wide-eyed innocence, for sure, and finds his own moral footing but the thing that keeps him so grounded is that he keeps one foot planted in reality, remembering the teachings of his mother, and is able to see the truth when all the rock stars and their hangerz-on are living in a fantasy world. "It's all happening," is a mantra that Penny Lane and her fellow Band Aids use over and again--near the end of the film William has the chance to challenge them as to what that means. What is happening? When are they going to come back to the real world?

No, the film is not just a coming of age story. Like "The Shawshank Redemption," which is mistakingly thought to be Andy's story instead of Red's, "Almost Famous" is not so much about William Miller but about the effect he has on those around him. This is made even more clear in the "bootleg" DVD cut, simply called "Untitled," which adds about 30 minutes and deepens the supporting characters' plot threats--I loved the original film in theaters, but I always watch the Bootleg cut on DVD; it's a far superior piece.

It's tempting to say that this film resonates with me because of my journalism background, but the truth is that I was still in college when the film was released--and while I was a journalism major, I was never too caught up in it at the time. Having worked as a journalist for nearly four years and having the opportunity to interview some famous people and be close to my passion (film instead of rock music), I think that my love for it has grown. There's something about being the outsider and having a close proximity to those whose life seems to be a fantasy or a fairy tale--you have the opportunity to pick apart the dream, deconstruct it and point out how it's manufactured in many respects, standing apart from the real world. I think the reason many people get uncomfortable around journalists is because of that fact--they have a view of themselves, a reality that makes them feel comfortable and safe...the reporter represents reality, which can pick it apart and reveal it as nothing more than a house of cards.

"Just make us look cool," Hammond tells William. That's a pretty loaded statement--it implies that Hammond thinks he can convince William to sacrifice his journalistic integrity in favor of friendship and coolness. It also implies that Hammond knows that Stillwater is not cool--that there are deep-seated rivalries and factions in the band that, were the public to see them, would reveal that they are just a bunch of young guys playing band.

Of course, that is the truth. Hammond thinks he's better than the others in the band and the lead singer (Jason Lee, pre-sell out) resents Hammond's popularity (I love the line 'your looks have become a problem'). William is an observer when Hammond temporarily leaves the band in Wichita and spends an evening at a house party when he gets high on acid and ends up on the roof of a garage proclaiming "I am a Golden God" before jumping into a swimming pool. The scene is funny--and based on the real-life exploits Crowe witnessed while writing for Rolling Stone--but it also reveals the flaws inherent in Hammond and in the band...and the danger of letting the outsider, a journalist, observe it all.

William is also a danger to Penny Lane, a young girl who has abandoned her regular life in the hopes of escaping reality through rock and roll. She's in love with Russell, but she naively believes he sees her as more than a groupie, that he will leave his wife for him. She knows the reality of the life she's chosen, but she still believes that there's hope in the fairy tale. Watch her reaction carefully when William tells her that Russell has traded her to the band Humble Pie for a case of beer...I think Hudson has thrown away a lot of the potential she's had in favor of frothy, ultra-stupid chick flicks...but here she delivers one of the most heartbreaking performances of the past few years.

In fact, every performance here is fantastic. Aside from "Saved," Fugit has pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. And maybe that's for the best. His work here is genuine and innocent, maybe because it was his first work. He really appears to be a kid who is wide-eyed and can't believe his luck to travel with his heroes. But that's why it works...William is being formed on this trip; he's a blank slate being molded by what he sees here and is trying to meld the teaching of his mother with the reality he sees on the road. Crowe could have gone the broad route and had William turn into a party-animal who repents at the end...instead, he presents William as a three-dimensional chracter who respects his mother's morals but realizes how uptight she is...and then, on the road, realizes how right she is about many things. That teaching helps him keep objectivity and protects him from getting caught up in the fantasy of traveling with the band.

Crudup is an actor who never really registers with me, although he was fantastic as Dr. Manhattan in "Watchmen." Here, though, Crowe's brilliant screenplay has created another fleshed-out and fully-developed character. He's not a rock god caught up in the dream but a young man who struggles with the excitement of fame coupled with his love for music. He can't believe his good fortune and also allows it to sweep him away. He does drugs, cheats on his wife and treats William horribly at some points--and yet we also get scenes where his humanity shows through. The final scene in the movie, when he and William finally get to have their last interview, is one of film's perfect wrap-ups.

I've mentioned Hudson, but it just seems that every role here is wonderfully cast. There are no ciphers here; Crowe, drawing from his own recollections, has lovingly crafted even the most insignificant characters and cast them with careful thought. Jason Lee is scathing and funny as the lead singer who wants to be the most-beloved in the band and yet there's a certain saddness to his character as he's also, well, almost famous compared to Hammond. McDormand is a strict mother but she does it out of love for her children...she has scenes that are both funny, as when she scolds Hammond over the phone, and heartbreaking, when she breaks down and cries over her son's absence. It's well known in these parts that I am in love with Zooey Deschanel and it was here that I first saw her wide-eyed beauty and energy. Heck even Jimmy Fallon is tolerable here as the agent who wants to take Stillwater to the big time...and if you can make me like Jimmy Fallon, you've accomplished something. Phillip Seymour Hoffman never delivers anything less than a fantastic performance and his work as Bangs reeks of authenticity; who else could be so irrasicble, uncool and unlikable than a true journalist?

Crowe's screenplay is the triumph in this movie. Every line of dialogue, every development of character and every detail of the rock scene has the perfect mix of authenticity, heart and humor. The rumor is that Steven Spielberg, whose Dreamworks produced this film, read the script and told Crowe not to cut a single thing from it and film it as it was. Maybe that's why the "Untitled" cut seems so much more alive and energetic. Or maybe it's just that I can't get enough of these characters and the world they're caught up in. Maybe I just want more of the wonderful soundtrack, which is like listening to Crowe's 1970s mix tape. Or maybe I'm like the character--I just want to be in their world for a bit, avoiding my own reality for a few hours.

I mentioned that I don't think it's my journalistic background that first drew me to the movie. I think it's actually Crowe's passion...he's so lovingly crafted this film that it's contagious. It's a movie that makes me smile. In William Miller I see a character like myself, someone who is so very not cool and has the opportunity to see the world he loves. Maybe it's the hope that I can be as grounded and objective as he is, seeing the world and not losing my soul. Maybe I'm also just as in love with Penny Lane as he is and I need this as an excuse to see her again.
Or maybe I need to take a note from the scene in which William stands in the wings watching Stillwater and jotting down his thoughts and Penny takes the pen out of his hand. Maybe I'm thinking too much and just need to put the DVD in and let myself get taken away by the music.

My Essentials: "Groundhog Day"

Okay, a word of explanation. This was originally supposed to be the relaunch of The Alphabet Project, which I began last year over at my other blog. That project was supposed to go through my DVD collection from A-Z, allowing me time to post my thoughts on the films I own. My plan for 2010 was to restart it, but taking the films from my "shelf of honor," in which my 50 or so favorite films are.

Normally, we'll follow an alphabetical protocol...unless I feel like shifting things up based on what I feel like watching or how my mood is striking me; so I'll rename it "My Essentials"--I like the name because they're the films I feel are essential to knowing what type of films I like, and I consider all of them to be great works of art in their own cases. This week, I will have thoughts on two films for this column. In honor of this week's "holiday," I'll be writing my thoughts on "Groundhog Day," which I revisited again over the weekend. I've also got some Essentials titles backlogged from last year that I'd like to print here and I'll be seeing a new addition for my Catch-Up column on Saturday night.

But for now, let's talk about Groundhog Day.

GROUNDHOG DAY (PG, 1993, Dir. Harold Ramis)

"What if there is no tomorrow? There wasn't today"

When we think of spiritual films or those that tackle existential crises, our thoughts tend to go toward Bergman, Ozu or a number of other somber artists not afraid to put entertainment aside in favor of delving deep into matters of the soul. When pressed to name my favorite "deep" films, I'm quick to point out "Babette's Feast," "Wings of Desire," "The Last Temptation of Christ," or "The Shawshank Redemption."

I'll admit that my thoughts don't immediately run towards an actor groomed on "Saturday Night Live" and the director of "National Lampoon's Vacation."

And yet, sitting here 17 years after it's release, I'm reminded again that the romantic comedy "Groundhog Day" addresses matters as deep as any of those previous films. It's a metaphor for those whose existince seems monotonous and uneventful. It's an examination of the book of Ecclesiastes, in which the film's hero finds that money, drink, ambition and sex grow hollow without something deeper. It takes us through life's cycles of monotony, recklessness, childishness, love, despair and finallly contenment. I'd wager that it's one of the deepest box office hits of the past 20 years.

It helps that it's hilarious.

Bill Murray, in one of the best performances of his career, plays Phil Connors, a Philadelphia TV weatherman who ends up repeating the same day over and over again in a small Pennsylvania town. Phil is obnoxious--he's the kind of television "talent" that loathes working in a small town with people he perceives as simpletons. He's arrogant, cynical and ready with a cutting remark--of course, it's all couched in Bill Murray's smarter-than-the-room wit, delivered with something akin to charm.

Phil goes through the daily routine of waking up, making banal chit-chat with the innkeeper of the bed and breakfast he's staying at, trying to avoid the annoying banter of a nerdy acquaintance who tries to sell him insurance, condescendly addressing the audience watching his newscast in Punxsatawney and trying to maintain his sanity as he tries to get home with his coworkers--particularly his producer Rita (Andie MacDowell), who has just as much sincerity as Phil has cynicism.

Unable to return home, Phil goes back to his hotel and falls asleep...only to awake at 6 a.m. to the same song ("I've Got You Babe") on the radio, followed by the same banter by the radio deejays. Stepping outside, Phil relives the same encounters and conversations he endured on Groundhog Day and quickly comes to realize he's living the same day over and over. He can change and make different decisions, which affect the outcome of his day---but no matter what he does, he'll still wake up in bed at 6 a.m. on Feb. 2 listening to two deejays telling him to put on his warm woolies because it's cold out there today (it's cold out there everyday; what is this, Miami Beach?)

The script by Danny Rubin and Harold Ramis, of course, exploits this for its comedic potential. Once Phil quickly accepts his new reality, an excitement sets in--he can do whatever he wants. He can participate in a car chase, manipulate a single lady, steal from the bank, eat as much as he wants. And, of course, he begins to be captured by Rita's innate goodness and works to earn her affection. And while she begins to fall for him, Phil always finds himself rebuffed at the end of the night.

Which leads into the darkest passages of the film, in which Phil begins to despair and grows suicidial. Yes, there's the funny scene where he kidnaps the town's groundhog and drives his car off a cliff. But there's a somberness to the scenes where he electrocutes himself, steps in front of a car or leaps from a building. The scenes have just enough levity to keep us from being depressed, but not enough for them to be considered slapstick--there's something deeper going on here, as Phil's journey begins to speak for our own...who hasn't felt that each day was the same, that they were stuck in a rut they couldn't get out of? Who hasn't begun to despair and felt that there has to be a way out? The film is addressing a dilemma faced by all of us. "What would you do," Phil asks some local drunks, "If you were stuck in the same place and every day was the same and nothing you did mattered?" "That about sums me up," one of the drunks responds.

And yet, the film doesn't end in those hopeless passages, nor does it venture off into an inane plot where Phil discovers how he can get out of his day-to-day loop. Instead, Phil makes peace with his situation and instead resolves to make himself better and kinder. He learns to play the piano, tries in vain to help a dying man and becomes a local hero as he saves those throughout town who have flat tires, are about to choke or fall from trees. He starts to loose his cyniscism, but Murray never makes the transformation unbelievable or removes the character's edge; Phil is still funny, but a bit more self-deprecating than caustic. We start to like him more--and as we do, so does Rita.

Yes, it's a typical tale of redemption--not that too disimilar from "A Christmas Carol" or "The Grinch"...same idea, different holiday. And yet the film never feels cliche, sappy or tired. Even its necessarilly repetitive structure still feels fresh the entire way through because of the clever ways the script changes Phil's interactions with people and events through each cycle. Had it been a one-note comedy, the film would have easily fallen flat, but Ramis is wise enough to change the tone as the story requires, creating the rare comedy that is both brilliant in its conception and involving on an emotional and existential level.

Murray is essential in this role--he's one of the few actors who we love to watch even as a jerk. Perhaps we sense a good guy beneath the snide comments or Murray's charisma from previous roles just predisposes us to like him. I have a feeling that it's because Murray lets us in on Phil's secret--that underneath all his sarcasm and cynisicsm lies a wounded man. A man who can get women to sleep with him, but no one to love him. Who can be a talent, but only in a small market like Philadelphia. A man who thinks he's smarter than the rest of the world and a bit skeptical as to why they all still seem to be happier than him. He never comes out and reveals a past hurt, but he doesn't need to; any recovering cynic recognizes one of their brethren. The key is that Murray plays the role just right all the way through--he plays Phil not as a bad man, but a jerk; we laugh at how rude and obnoxious he is while also realizing he's not a guy we'd want as a friend. His tranformation is allowed to come gradually as Phil begins to learn what he desires, what isn't workinga nd what he needs to do to get it...there's a subtlety to Murray's performance here that I think goes unappreciated. Oddly enough, in his later dramatic roles, it's the subtlety that Murray is praised for--I think people overlooked the wonderful skill on display here as well.

To see how good Murray is here, contrast it with his work in "Scrooged" just a few years earlier. While the film makes me laugh, I've always felt it comes across as a bit "off," laughing at Dickens' story rather than appreciating its power. And part of that reason comes from Murray's miscalculated performance--his character is crass and cruel, not sarcastic and funny. Although we learn there are dashed dreams in his background, we never feel much of the weight of them. And his transformation at the end feels too abrupt and also insincere. "Groundhog Day" covers many of the same thematic elements as "Christmas Carol," and yet Murray's work is much more powerful here...it's because he's created a character that we like and who is allowed to breathe, learn and grow.

But recognition also belongs to the game cast that surrounds Murray here, who are required to repeat themselves over and over while having no clue what Phil is enduring. Andie MacDowell is the anti-Phil and she plays here role as a sincere, kind-hearted woman without the neuroses or vapidness too many romantic comedy heroines seem required to have. Chris Elliott's work may be smaller, but he manages to get a laugh every time he speaks. And Stephen Tobolowski--as poor Ned Ryerson, the insurance salesman (Bing!)--is priceless, a great supporting character that provokes some of the film's biggest laughs.

It's funny how "Groundhog Day" has seeped into our culture. When we get deja vu, we often say something feels like "Groundhog Day." It's a film that has gone from being a clever romantic comedy to being admired as one of the most in-depth and even spiritual films of the past 20 years. Roger Ebert, in his Great Movies review of the film (http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/) has made allusions to "It's a Wonderful Life." And the more I see this film, the more I am inclined to agree. "Groundhog Day" is funny and clever, but its true success comes from how well it captures the human predicament and how wonderfully Bill Murray captures every second of screen time.

It's totally cliche to see this, but if I was forced to repeat the same film over and over, I could do much worse than "Groundhog Day."