By Matt Soergel
Florida Times-Union

Almost Famous glows with qualities we rarely associate with movies anymore: It's understated and wryly funny, affectionate and nostalgic without being sappy.

Even more striking: It's an obviously personal story that doesn't wallow in fashionable nihilism and despair. Life does not stink, it says. Instead, Almost Famous is the work of a gifted, likable filmmaker who's able to make gentle fun of himself and the people he loved, so long ago.

Oh, and it's got a great soundtrack. But that figures.

Almost Famous is Cameron Crowe's barely fictionalized story of his improbable life as a 15-year-old rock writer for Rolling Stone, touring with hedonistic bands on cross-country tours full of groupies, drugs and really long guitar solos. It's a time that's not given much attention these days: 1973, as the '60s dream was fast fading, but well before the really laughable eccentricities of the later '70s flowered in their full polyester glory.

The film is not as good as Crowe's most recent movie, Jerry Maguire. But how many are? Jerry Maguire was among the top handful of movies of the 1990s, far deeper, far more complex and more real than its Tom-Cruise-as-cocky-sports-agent plot line might appear.

Almost Famous is more slight, and even a little unsteady in spots (there's even a terrible sitcom-like scene toward the end that's completely out of character).

But enough quibbles: Almost Famous is still a fabulous piece of entertainment. And like all of Crowe's screenplays -- Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Say Anything, Jerry Maguire and even Singles -- almost every line of dialogue has a touch of genius about it: The whole movie's out-loud quotable.

It starts in sunbleached San Diego in the late '60s, when little William Miller is dealing with his college-professor mother (Fargo's Frances McDormand, who's as good as you'd expect), who wants to shield him from the influences of rock 'n' roll.

"They're on pot," she says, pointing at Simon and Garfunkel's pensive album cover.

That's enough to drive William's older sister (Zooey Deschanel) out of the house, leaving for the glamorous life of a stewardess, back when they were called that.

But she gives her little brother a parting gift. "One day you'll be cool," she promises him. "Look under your bed -- it'll set you free."

There, under his bed, is a stack of albums: the Beach Boys, Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix and, yes, Simon and Garfunkel. And once he sets that stylus down on the vinyl, he is set free.

It may take him a while to get cool, though.

Skip ahead to 1973, when William (newcomer Patrick Fugit) is 15 and a budding rock writer. He ingratiates himself with legendary rock writer Lester Bangs (a real-life character played by Philip Seymour Hoffman, perhaps the most consistently fascinating supporting actor around).

And that helps lead to an assignment from Rolling Stone. Soon he's on the road with the fictional Stillwater, a fractious, moderately talented Midwestern band.

Mom's not completely happy, but being a modern woman she has to trust her son. But not without giving him this frequent warning: "Don't take drugs!"

As for Stillwater, they don't want to have much to do with the kid writer, but they take him in at the urging of their handsome guitarist (Billy Crudup). After all, how can he resist, after the kid calls his guitar-playing "incendiary."

"Just make us look cool," the guitarist says.

Life is troubled for Stillwater, even with their success. For one thing, their lead singer (Jason Lee) is beginning to resent the attention his guitarist is getting. He pouts: "From the very beginning, we said I'm the frontman; you're the guitarist with mystique."

Then there's some conflict over the groupies who hang with them, a trio of women who call themselves "Band Aids." They're led by the soulful Penny Lane, played by Kate Hudson, who in some scenes looks strikingly like her mother, Goldie Hawn. Hudson is appropriately sexy and mysterious, and it's easy to see why young William is completely taken with her.

It's an inspired bit of casting, just another good thing about Almost Famous, which lucked out when Brad Pitt, who would have been just too Brad Pitt-like, dropped out and Crudup took his place.

Crudup, who was also in Jesus' Son, is a star in the making -- and this is likely to be the film that makes him one. Even better this time, though, is newcomer Fugit, who's perfectly gawky and grave as Crowe's alter ego.

His performance is just one of many things to like about Almost Famous. Here are some others: The high school band that plays Chicago's Colour My World. A young Led Zeppelin fanatic. An exasperated hotel clerk. The way the actor playing real-life editor Ben Fong-Torres says grandly: "Hello, this is Ben Fong-Torres, music editor of Rolling Stone."

Then there's a terrific scene on Stillwater's rickety bus, as the band begins to heal some wounds as they all join in singing with a song on the radio. I won't ruin it by telling you what song it is, but I will say it's unexpected -- and a perfect choice. Just another thing to like about this immensely likable movie.