COVER
FAMOUS TACIS
[1] The many
Crowes—Michael
An-garano. Fu^it.
and Crowe: [2]
Deschanel and
McDormand: (3)
Hoffman's Ban^s
“I said ‘Omigod, please, I need it,’ ”
remembers Hudson, 21, whose dreamy,
wild-eyed performance is nothing short
of shocking from someone until now best
known for dreck like 200 Cigarettes and
being Goldie Hawn’s daughter. “And
Cameron was set on me being Anita. So
I was begging, literally. Kurt [ Russell],
my dad, is a huge Zeppelin fan—so I
grew up listening to that. The obscure
music I wasn’t hip to until Cameron sent
me the greatest care package I’ve ever
received: 25 CDs”—a unique bundle
Crowe put together for each of the
younger stars. (McDormand’s response:
“No way! F—- them! Where’s mine?”)
The shoot stretched out over six
months, featurtng stops at classic rock
locales like the former Continental Hy
att House in West Hollywood, a Crowe
haunt and major groupie hot spot
(“[The lobby] got torn down, like, 20
minutes after our last shot,” mourns
the director of the place affectionately
known as the Riot House). But the
biggest headaches came from the elab
orate arena-rock concert sequences.
“[Cinematographer] John Toll was al
ways worried about the concerts,” re
members Crowe. “The key was the pho
tos on the Allman Brothers’ At Fillmore
East. Everything was so basic—just
red and yellow lights—so we designed
the sequences off that back cover.” The
Stillwater songs were written by
Crowe and Nancy Wilson (of seminal
’80s power balladeers Heart) on a lark
during their honeymoon in 1986. They
sat ignored until Crowe was ready to
start production on Almost Famous,
when they were juiced back to life with
the help of ’70s rocker Peter Frampton.
“When we showed the movie to Led
Zeppelin, Jimmy Page said, ‘Who
wrote those songs?’ and I was like, ‘Uh,
my wife and me,’ ” laughs Crowe, who
eventually got Zeppelin to sign off on a
handful of songs for the film. “Then
Page says, ‘They’re really quite good,
quite authentic.’ And Pm goin’, ‘Yeah!
Yeah! You know, those songs were
actually me....’ ”
The other thing the 43-year-old di
rector wrote for himself was a happy
ending, which paved the way for a real
life reconciliation as well. Almost Fa
mous concludes with a shell-shocked
William heading home to heal himself
and the lift in his family, but amazing
ly, this didn’t happen for Crowe until
this past July when his mother, a
schoolteacher in San Diego, and his sis
ter reestablished contact after more
than two decades of estrangement.
“Playing out the reconciliation was
therapeutic for Cameron,” speculates
Deschanel, who stepped in for Cross
roads School classmate Hudson to play
Anita. “He always wanted it.”
“So rock music, the thing that my
Mom said would rain our family, crept
in beneath the door, through the win
dow, and two weeks ago brought us to
gether....” says Crowe, lowering his
voice and considering wThat he’s
wrought. “Music was the thing that I
clung to. And then when I started get
ting assignments and going on the
road, I would hang out with people
who were like me. Finally, finally. It
was like a drug.” He pauses again.
“And people still feel that. There are
little girls that listen to Brttney Spears
and feel that there’s someone out there
that understands them.”
SO, WHAT WILL HOLLYWOOD MAKE OF
Crowe after this love song to the power
of rock & roll? Almost Famous is a fun
ny, sprawling, emotionally raw, and just
plain complicated piece of filmmaking
from someone whom critics have called
a beautiful director of superficial rela
tionship fantasies. Crowe hiccups
through an answer: “It’s really strange,”
he says. “You’re out there. You’re toy
ing really hard. And no one can hear
the differences in the takes but you. The
movie got directed by feeling. If it gave
me the feeling of what it was like to be
there, then we finished and moved on.
“But I know there were days when
people thought,”—he lapses into a
cool-dude voice—“ ‘Hey man, therapy
would’ve been cheaper and we could
be workin’ on Charlie’s Angels’ ” • • •
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