ou’ve been kissing!” In San Diego in 1969, college professor Elaine Miller (Frances McDormand) raises her children quite strictly, insisting upon healthy foods, proper grammar, and safety protocols (like seatbelts), while forbidding edgy music that leads to promiscuity and questionable decisions. This is hellish for rebellious daughter Anita (Zooey Deschanel), who disapproves of such restrictions and can’t wait to leave the house to become an airline stewardess. For little William (Michael Angarano), who thinks he’s twelve but is actually only eleven because he skipped a couple of years due to advanced learning strategies employed by his mother, he’s content, unaware of how his life has been shaped by an unusual upbringing.

“One day, you’ll be cool.” Thanks to a parting gift from Anita – a vast collection of vinyl albums – by 1973, teenaged William (Patrick Fugit) is much better versed in popular music. He’s also an aspiring writer, hoping to become a rock journalist, inspired by role model Lester Bangs (Philip Seymour Hoffman), a notable rock ’n’ roll critic for Creem Magazine. Of course, he also has his eyes set on penning some articles for Rolling Stone. It isn’t long before the youngster, who doesn’t really have a way into the industry, lucks out by meeting not just band members themselves, who get him backstage, but also groupie Penny Lane (Kate Hudson) and her cadre of likeminded followers – a very influential gathering of girls. Suddenly, he’s in a world of sex and drugs and the freedoms his mother warned him about. But in the perspective of writer/director Cameron Crowe (telling a semi-autobiographical yarn), it’s dreamy and exciting, not scary and hazardous.

“You seem cooler.” Although William appears as if he’s terribly unprepared, innocent, inexperienced, and unknowledgeable about virtually everything (he’s incredibly precocious, however), his experiences here are lively and quirky. It’s as if “Almost Famous” intends to redefine the stereotypes of the rock star environment, depicting it as carefree, upbeat, romantic, and poetic, rather than dark and dour and riddled with hard narcotics. This is the consistently fun-loving, comical, harmless perspective of musicians dealing with touring, performing, and fame (at times highlighting a certain aloofness and idiocy, like in “This Is Spinal Tap”). Even the supporting characters exhibit a great deal of humorous oddness, never presenting any dangers or woes; curiously, there’s almost no conflict in this film, save for the scolding presence of William’s nagging, smothering mother.

Ultimately, it doesn’t wish to tell a specific story as much as it wants to chronicle a formative odyssey of spirited figures and how they shape the adolescence (and sexual awakening) of a fortunate outsider serendipitously mixed up with them. It meanders, but it does so with philosophical observations and a significant helping of nostalgia, dwelling on insincere and frivolous episodes of recklessness and irresponsibility; it’s an adventure with minimal intentionality and jeopardy. Even sequences of decadence and immoralities are blithe and playful. “Please, don’t give him any more acid.”

Fortunately, the film accomplishes its sense of lighthearted wandering with amusing musical sequences and authentic portrayals, not just from the fictitious band members, which include Jason Lee and Billy Crudup, but also the “band-aid” fangirls, including Anna Paquin and Fairuza Balk. It creates a pleasant vibe perhaps more than it tells a significant tale, as it charts an unrequited first love, feelings of being in over one’s head, unprecedented accomplishments (and an epic charade that never truly feels unnerving, resolving fancifully and with little candor – until the final moments), rising up the ladder of success, attempts to suppress sobering reality with intoxicating fantasy (and crafting an image, an illusion), and the potential for people to get used by one another. It’s this last notion that generates a modicum of drama and a glimmer of believably complicated relationships; but for a production that follows the lives of rock stars, even this is quite mild and capricious. By the end, it’s more of a sweet, satirical take on an extraordinary childhood (and a behind-the-scenes glimpse of whimsical rock stardom, with personas goofily reenforcing tropes), concerned with careful character development far more than unforgettable misadventures on the road (an extended cut with more than 30 minutes of additional footage tends to slow things down as it offers greater insights, aiding the characters but hurting the pacing).

– Mike Massie