Grade: A-

Verdict: Grabs the soul of rock 'n' roll.

Details: Starring Patrick Fugit, Billy Crudup and Kate Hudson. Directed by Cameron Crowe. Rated R for profanity, sexual situations, and substance abuse. Two hours.

Rate it: Write your own review

Review: Listen to 'Tommy' with a candle burning and you will see your entire future."

That's what one character says in the absolutely fabulous new film, "Almost Famous" and she'd sound crazy, except, well, there probably isn't an aging Baby Boomer out there who doesn't remember saying some version of the same thing.

It was the early '70s. The country was in flux from one water sign (the Age of Aquarius) to another (Watergate). But in 1973, anything still seemed possible. The happy-hippie aura of the '60s hovered like a guardian angel over the more grounded, granola-brained next chapter in the continuing saga of, if not the greatest generation, the most self-important. It was a time when "He's with the band" were magic words that could take you places Dorothy and company never dreamed of.

"Almost Famous," written and directed by Cameron Crowe, is a reality-based fable of that fabled time. Crowe, who's now better known as a screenwriter ("Fast Times at Ridgemont High") and filmmaker ("Say Anything," "Jerry Maguire"), was only 15 in 1973 when he lowered his voice, talked "concept," and managed to con Rolling Stone magazine into hiring him to write profiles of such essential bands as the Allman Brothers, the Eagles and Led Zeppelin.

In "Almost Famous," Crowe's alter ego is a baby-faced daydream believer named William Miller (Patrick Fugit). Sent on the road with Stillwater, an opening act striving to become a headliner, he relies on his mentor, real-life rock critic Lester Bangs (Philip Seymour Hoffman), to give him the right spin to pass along to his editor at Rolling Stone. Bangs helpfully concocts an effective quickie: "It's a 'think' piece about a mid-level band struggling with the limitations of stardom."

Those limitations include the usual sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. Or, as William learns later in the tour, sex, drugs and a stomach pump. Shut out by security on his first foray into the rock world, William finds his way into the inner sanctum of backstage thanks to a radiant groupie who calls herself Penny Lane (Goldie Hawn's daughter Kate Hudson). However, she and her gal pals (Fairuza Balk and Anna Paquin) refuse to think of themselves as groupies. Rather, they insist, they are Band Aids, in it for the music, not the sex. Of course, their definition of sex is startlingly similar to President Clinton's.

Penny gets William in the door; his enthusiastic blend of innocence and smarts keeps him there. Stillwater is an on-the-verge band which leads to some nasty ego clashes off-stage. When the lead guitarist (Billy Crudup) threatens to hog the spotlight, the lead singer (Jason Lee) reminds him, "From the beginning, we agreed. I'm the front man and you're the guitar player with mystique."

Mystique is a lot of what "Almost Famous" is all about. Or lack thereof. Bangs, who actually did help Crowe out before dying of an overdose in 1982, cautions the movie's Miller to always remember that we - i.e., we the writers, not them, the rock stars - are perpetually uncool. "They don't know what it's like to be a fan. To love some silly bit of music so much that it hurts."

Crowe knows exactly what that feels like and that, perhaps, is a key to the picture's power. "Almost Famous" is a coming-of-age story in more ways than one. It's about the coming-of-age of a particularly gifted teen writer, but it's also about the coming-of-age of an entire generation. There was a time when, metaphorically, we were all with the band. Or wished we were. A time when we all seemed to be on the same sweet, strange, can't-last-forever-but-don't-tell-us ride.

That energy, affection and synchronicity keep "Almost Famous" from being just another nostalgia trip. Add in Crowe's uncanny ear for dialogue and the gracefully assured visual stylings of cinematographer John Toll ("The Thin Red Line"). Finally, there are the terrific performances. Young Fugit, who must have one of the most engagingly loopy smiles in the business. Oscar-winner Frances McDormand ("Fargo") as his weird but wonderful mom (she worships "To Kill a Mockingbird" but disdains Simon & Garfunkel because "They smoke pot.") Crudup as the band member with an easy-going sexiness and the star-power to implement a laid-back but well- crafted ambition. Hoffman as the wary observer/Ultimate Fan who advises William, "You must never make friends with the rock stars."

At one point, someone says, "I don't think anyone can explain rock and roll except maybe Peter Townsend." That's the glory of "Almost Famous." It doesn't try to explain. It just puts us there, in the entourage, on the edge of the stage, where, as Penny says, "It's all happening."

Like William, we get off Stillwater's bus a little sadder, a little wiser. But also terminally infected by the sheer exhuberance of what we've been part of.

"Almost Famous" may be, at heart, a kind of elegy, but its bittersweet edge is blown away by its buoyant spirit. "Just make us look cool," Crudup pleads - something the Eagles' Glenn Frey apparently once really said to Crowe. And Crowe does. But he also shows us what lies beneath the coolness - the raw, vibrant longing and the aching legacy of things long past. "Almost Famous" is a last waltz you can dance to; you already know the words.

— Eleanor Ringel Gillespie, Cox News Service