originally published in the ultraviolet
last june, i drove my friend to the mulholland scenic overlook to watch my favorite movie of all time in the backseat of my car. to my astonishment, he had never seen it before. as pastel hues washed the clouds out of the horizon line through my windshield, the opening credits rolled to reveal a familiar california christmas scene. i found myself on the edge of my seat – not because i had forgotten what was going to unfold next on screen, but because i was petrified that my friend would not cherish this film as i did. i’d really hyped this movie up to him, and at the time, i didn’t know the guy all that well. fortunately, he loved it. ten months later, he’s my best friend, and the film is even closer to my heart as i prepare to graduate from high school and embark on my next journey.
almost famous (2000), written and directed by cameron crowe, is a semi-autobiographical comedy-drama that follows a teenage writer who lands the opportunity of a lifetime to travel with a rock band and document their tour for rolling stone. the film begins in 1969, focusing on child prodigy william miller (patrick fugit): a social outcast whose neurotic mother (frances mcdormand) has forbidden him from listening to rock music and indulging in most aspects of pop culture. william’s older sister, anita (zooey deschanel), leaves home to become a flight attendant as soon as she turns 18. when she kisses her brother goodbye, she informs him of some musical contraband that she left under his bed: “listen to tommy with a candle burning and you’ll see your entire future,” she whispers to him. flash forward to 1973, when william has been transformed by the who’s fourth album into a rock enthusiast. miraculously, he receives an assignment from a local music journalist to review a black sabbath concert where he befriends the lead singer of the opening band. the rest is history for william, who soon finds himself traveling across the country with the band and falling in love with mysterious “band-aids” like the infamous penny lane (kate hudson).
almost famous is the inspiration for this column and for the audacious lifestyle i’ve chosen to lead. just as william’s concerned mother demands that her son call home every day, my mother was hesitant to let me attend coachella as a freshman and was anxious every time she dropped me off at an indie concert in koreatown on a school night. “you promise you did all of your school work?” “yes, mom.” “and you’ll be home by midnight?” like elaine, my mother has come to embrace this hobby of mine, and has seen it blossom into something more substantial than a way to have fun. weeknight concerts got me through seemingly endless weeks of back-to-back assessments and let me out of my bubble, even if just for an evening, to witness the culture of my city and the art of live music. upon returning home, i’d immediately write down all of my thoughts. soon, i found myself publishing these pieces and sharing them with executives at goldenvoice, who were asking me for music recommendations and gifting me free artist passes to coachella. i wasn’t quite william miller, but i was pretty damn close.
william miller has always been one of my greatest role models. a fellow journalist and old soul, i will take all that i’ve learned from him about meeting new people and writing with truth and grit as i continue on to college and beyond. i’d like to think that there’s a little bit of penny in me: carefree and caring of those who surround her, and a little anita: fearlessly independent and slightly rebellious. the three each exemplify different approaches to their fleeting adolescence and innocence, which floods viewers of the film with the same nostalgic sensation.
at its core, almost famous is about embracing what scares us while caring for one another. it’s a film best watched surrounded by those who empower you, and the experience is different every time. it was new when i watched it with my friends at the hollywood forever cemetery, when hundreds of people stood up on their picnic blankets to join the cast in screaming “tiny dancer” together during an iconic stillwater tour bus scene. it was new when i watched it a month later in my car because i was witnessing the blossoming of a friendship.
high school, and life, are remembered by the moments in which you feel alive. as an ultraviolet columnist, it has been an honor to have a platform on which to share the experiences that have defined my adolescence. the soft chords of “america” by simon and garfunkel that play as william’s sister anita packs her belongings into the trunk of her boyfriend’s car are already flooding my brain as i think about leaving home in a few months. i recall that at the very end of the film, anita runs into a disheveled william in an airport and tells him she’ll take him anywhere in the world. he chooses home.
a piece of my heart will always be in los angeles, at marlborough, at the ultraviolet. i will be back! but until then, i’m over and out. and to quote the great penny lane, “it’s all happening.”
