After watching Almost Famous for the first time at 14 years old, I was certain that I was going to drop everything to follow the nearest rock band around the globe. Now, watching it at twenty, the film has become a different experience. I became painfully aware that most of the film’s characters I had admired so deeply were, in fact, just children.
This is what Almost Famous does so well. At the start, the film leads you to believe that the life of rock and roll is the life you want. It is the early ’70s, and protagonist William Miller lives with his older sister Anita and his college professor mother, who has a strict ban on rock music and anything related to pop culture. Anita leaves home to become a flight attendant; “one day, you’ll be cool” she tells William, before driving off to Simon & Garfunkel’s ‘America’ (a scene that is permanently ingrained in my brain).
After finding Anita’s secret stash of vinyl, he begins writing music articles. To William, rock music represents an escape: a way out of his life of high school bullying and strict parental rules. When he lands the chance to write for Rolling Stone, William joins up-and-coming band Stillwater on tour and begins to confront the real impact of fame.
It wouldn’t be an article about Almost Famous without a deep dive into the character of Penny Lane. The second she entered the screen, draped in her iconic Afghan coat, it was clear that history was being made. As the film goes on, she becomes something far more complex. Initially a representation of beauty and the freedom of the rock-and-roll era, we gradually see her vulnerabilities: she is an isolated young girl who has spent years being used and abused by men far older and more powerful than her. Both her and William’s arcs represent the bittersweet reality behind the glitz and glamour of stardom.
It’s this honesty and depth that make Almost Famous a film that sticks with you. Not only for its fabulous soundtrack and incredible aesthetics, but also because every rewatch is an absolute delight. 25 years on, the film’s message still stands: authenticity is always the answer.
“Carnaby Records (Liège)” by Marc Wathieu is licensed under CC BY 2.0.