Here's a memorable post I saved from Rotten Tomatoes Forums (RIP) in 2007:
20. Spirited Away
Hayao Miyazaki is a master filmmaker; having created a huge name for himself in Japan by creating perhaps the country's most popular film (Princess Mononoke), he has also struck a chord with the North American moviegoer. His films are very accessible to all ages. However, this is not to say that his films are any less than very imaginative; Princess Mononoke may have been one of the better epics ever to grace the silver screen, but Spirited Away is given no boundaries, and Miyazaki is free to cram all of his wondrous ideas into one story. This could've easily turned the film into nothing less than an exercise in style, but Miyazaki's attention to detail (such as having based Chihiro's character closely on the daughter of a friend) and solid storyline keep the viewer grounded while at the same time bewildered. Spirited Away, behind all of the strange creatures and spirits that inhabit the film, is a tale of coming-of-age, a tale which Miyazaki seems to have used more than once, but perfected here. Chihiro is so realistic and full of life that it keeps the film from plunging into the wild world of escapism. The fact that we believe so vividly that this is a real story and not a fairy tale is perhaps Spirited Away's best feature. It is a beautiful picture, and much more rewatchable than most, and it eases its way into the first entry of my top twenty.
19. Apocalypse Now
It does not surprise me in the least that Apocalyse Now enters nearly half of every top twenty list; Coppola's picture is certainly the most intimate of all war films, which is in my opinion what makes it the very best of all war films. Its opening scene is iconic, and for good reason; it is beautiful in the most destructive way possible. The majestic fires burning brightly in the jungles almost seem to reference propaganda, but what makes the film great is that it is far from propaganda; it is a film about a man who has had enough, but is pulled in for one more mission, and finds that this by far his most important. During the famous Ride of the Valkryies scene, he kills almost as if the people were simply obstacles in his path towards the end. The scene also features a hilarious segment with Robert Duvall as Kilgore, who spouts his most famous line: "I love the smell of napalm in the morning. It smells like... victory." I'm not sure what makes Kilgore wuiter such a funny character, but he is certainly an interesting one; he is almost psychopathic in his complete lack of sympathy for the death of the Viatnamese villagers. He's much more interested in how good the surf is. The film's ending is also quite an interesting part. Having met Kurtz, Willard kills him with a machete in the middle of the night as the villagers slaughter a water buffalo (Coppola took an interesting decision by having his actors slaughter an actual buffalo). As he leaves, unphased by the natives now looking to him as their leader, Kurtz's words "the horror" slowly escape in the wind. A perfect ending to a great film, and certainly one of my favorites.
18. Singin' in the Rain
There is a reason that Singin' in the Rain's eponymous song (and the film itself) has become one of the biggest icons of Hollywood; the film ages extremely well and remains just as fun as I'm sure it must've been at the time of its release. Whenever I watch A Clockwork Orange, another good film, I can't help but feel like watching this film for a little relief. Every musical number is wonderful, but Make 'Em Laugh, Good Morning and especially Singin' In the Rain have me humming the next day. And I watch the film a lot. It's instantly rewatchable; I don't think there's ever been a film that has had such a power to pick me up when I'm down. This year's exceptional remake took a page from this film's book; Singin' In the Rain doesn't encompass itself in blackmail, relations or violence; it gives us a view of the brighter side of life, and sometimes I think that this makes the film just as good as any realist piece. Sadly, the film has been often overlooked for lists like these, so I proudly place it on mine.
17. Manhattan
Manhattan is a great film, but not a great romance; I agree firmly with Ebert by saying that it's by no means a film about love. It is, rather, a film about loss. Allen's character is too busy trying to end his relationship with seventeen year old Tracy to actually enjoy the relationship, and then he meets fellow intellectual Mary, his best friend's mistress, and falls for her. The film is not exactly about whether Isaac wants to be with Mary or Tracy, but whether he wants to try another relationship at all. Manhattan borrows heavily from the last words of Allen's film Annie Hall (which will also make an appearance on the list), that people keep going through relationships because they "just need the eggs." Manhattan is a solemn film but has much style, wit and intelligence about it, and it is a film I consider a work of art. The opening scenes scan much of Manhattan while accompanied by Rhapsody In Blue; this accompanies the film perfectly, because it isn't only a story of loss, but a time capsule of the intellectual flavor of New York in the 1970s and today as well. This I'm surprised it's not much higher on my list, but I do have many favorites here.
16. A Christmas Story
One of the most beloved of all Christmas movies, A Christmas Story has always been one of my all-time favorites. The film is great in that it's actually quite realistic; anybody who was ever a kid was somewhat like Ralphie, who knows exactly what he wants for Christmas: an official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle. Ralphie fights with bullies who turn on themselves, hangs out with friends that do dumb things for dares (like licking a frozen pole), and is constantly told by the menacing 'grown ups' that he'll shoot his eye out if he ever gets his holy grail. His mother will do just about anything to get his younger brother to eat her meals, his brother can barely walk in his many layers of jackets, and his father proudly displays a questionable lamp in the window. And his gradmother, who is eternally convinced that Ralphie is a four year old girl, sends him a pink bunny suit in the mail. His mother thinks it's the most adorable thing she's ever saw. His father gives him a lucky break because he can sympathize with him. The film is quite funny, and also very sweet. And tell me, how many of you watch this film every Christmas? I know I do. And I watch Planes, Trains and Automobiles every Christmas, Life of Brian every Easter and countless movies every Halloween. The reason that A Christmas Story is the very best of the bunch is that it's just perfect in almost every way, and it sticks out in my mind every time I watch it. I never hesitate when calling A Christmas Story a great film.
15. L.A. Confidential
Another commonly found film on lists like these, L.A. Confidential is not my favorite film about crime. It is, however, my favorite film about cops. The three cops in the film, played excellently by Guy Pearce, Russell Crowe and Kevin Spacey, are actually rather clichéd; the quiet overachiever, the media hog and the ruff 'n' tuff bad boy. Even the film is quite clichéd. But it breaks through these clichés very well, and creates a story that is told very well, is never remotely boring, and has an interesting edge. My favorite part of the film is its dialogue, which is absolutely brilliant, especially in the interrogation scenes. But I must mention that all of the film's performances, particularly from the three leads, are excellent. I found Basinger's to be less so, but not so terrible as to take anything away from the film. I find it quite hard to write an entry for this film in particular, seeing as it has been months since my last viewing, but I'll say whatever I've got left; L.A. Confidential is great in how it recreates an era without focusing on the era and forgetting the story; the film's opening moments pull you right in and honestly, the film never really lets go. Definetly one of my favorites, seeing as cop and crook film is one of my favorite genres.
14. The Incredibles and Ratatouille
I love Pixar. They've raised the bar so high for animated features that Dreamworks and Disney will never be able to catch up. Ratatouille and The Incredibles are the studio's two very best films, but for different reasons. The Incredibles is full of wit and action while Ratatouille is a film of style and finesse. Not to demote either of them, as I do place them at the exact same level, but they are nearly incomparable. The Incredibles is wondrous, filled with colorful characters (in both senses of the word, I suppose) and great humour. It also has quick, fun action sequences that only add to the film, and a good villain. It is the one with the better characters and plot, by a small margin. Ratatouille is a feast for the senses; it's beautiful to look at and to think of. It is the one with the superior ending, and overall feel. But here I am, comparing them when I have just proclaimed them uncomparable. Both films are masterpieces of modern cinema, and in my own personal opinion some of the best things ever to come out of Hollywood. Disney's recent and more lukewarm attempts cannot compare, and their is no use even mentioning anything Dreamworks has made (myself not being Shrek's biggest fan). I love these films.
13. Requiem for a Dream
My friends who I've forced to see this film tell me I must be the only one who can watch it more than once. I simply can't help myself. The film is dark, grubby and intense, but in it's own way I find it beautiful; Aranofsky, whose previous film Pi I did not enjoy and whose most recent film The Fountain I did enjoy, uses his style to its full capabilities to create a claustrophobic, cold and disgusting backdrop for his characters to destroy themselves in. But one of the better things about the film is how it doesn't jump right into the worst part, and lets the character's addictions slowly take over. And, on the subject of addiction, I have never considered Requiem for a Dream a 'drug movie'. Sara Goldfarb, the TV obsessed widow and the most powerful character of the film (in the sense of her emotional struggle), is addicted to coffee, food and television. All of these affect her life for the worse, and only make her more succeptible to the most dangerouis of her addictions (diet pills). The other half of the film concerns Sara's son, and his girlfriend and best friend, all three of whom are involved in the drug trade as a means of saving money. This backfires when they begin to become too addicted to their item for sale, and they're forced to do some nasty, nasty things. When the film begins to get ugly (and I mean really ugly), I find it the most compelling, as it is also at its most emotional, observant, realistic and heartbreaking. Sara's scenes of conga hallucenations are strangely funny but extremely sad, and such a strange mix is something only a great actress such as Burstyn can portray fulfillingly. Every actor here is great, and although Burstyn is the highlight, Leto, Conelly and even Marlon Wayans (yes, Marlon Wayans) turn in fabulous, Oscar worthy performances. As for the script, it is perfect, told in three acts, all of which are near perfect. Requiem for a Dream remains as hard to watch as the first time I've seen it (14 times ago), but it is, ironically, an addiction of my own.
12. Reservoir Dogs
Reservoir Dogs is the film that got me especially interested in film. I expected to see a heist movie, no more, no less, but what I got was something different; a conversation piece, which has always been Tarantino's specialty, filled with some violence but mostly tension. The film is not in chronological order, and sometimes it decides to skip around and show a few character's backgrounds if it wants to. The fact is that, Reservoir Dogs being Tarantino's first film, he pandered to no audience expect himself, and this gave the film a rough-around-the-edges feel fitting in perfectly with the story. The acting is all top notch; Harvey Keitel is as good as he's ever been; Steve buscemi, one of my favorite actors, is slimy and fantastic; Tim Roth never makes his character's secret obvious, and Micheal Madsen is one scary guy. The direction is, granted, that of an amateur, but it doesn't really matter; the centerpiece of the film is not its direction, but rather its writing, which is very realistic and has a striking fluidity. When Mr. White asks "Are you a doctor? Are you a doctor?", this is uncommon speech in the movies. But the truth is that people often repeat themselves. Although the film seems much like something Tarantino just wanted to do to pay tribute to some of his favorite films, I dare say that it's better than a few of those films, and still one of my personal favorites.
11. Memento
It makes me happy to see so often this fantastic film on lists such as these. Memento is a film with the greatest gimmick ever created, but only because it's not a gimmick at all. Some ask if the film would be put in forward motion, would it be as good? The same question could be if any film would be as good if you turned it backwards. Memento tells a story with a great way of relating us to its main character; by giving us his ailment. Throughout the film, we, like Leonard, know nothing of what has just happened. While this gives us an immediate connection to the character, Guy Pearce helps keep the character relatable with his perfect performance. Carrie Anne Moss also delivers a good performance, and Joe Pantoliano delivers a great one. Memento is great to look at, too; its black and white combined with color works fantastically. Memento is a film of almost unlimited intelligence, and this is what makes it so interesting and so compelling to watch. It is almost impossible to comprehend just what losing a memory would feel like, and this fascination of mine also puts another famous film about memory on my list. But of the two, Memento is more innovative and more fun, and I'm sorry that I like ten films better than it and that it got booted out of my top 10. I do think it deserves a spot.
10. Cidade De Deus
Never have I seen a film with as much flair for the visual as City of God. Much like Requiem for A Dream, City of God is all about what film is really supposed to be; visual storytelling. City of God does have an interesting story to tell, but it's not the "what" that's important here, but rather the how. I love every minute in this film because there is not one minute where I'm not either enthralled by the story or amazed by the visuals. Fernando Mereilles, who was only a commercial director back when he made this film. I sure wish he could've goten into film sooner, so there would be more of his works that just this and The Constant Gardener. But,m even if he makes a hundred more films in his lifetime, I am fairly certain that this film will remain his masterpiece. It is directed masterfully, written perfectly and acted extremely well (although almost none of the "actors" were actually professionals). It is, like nearly all films about gangs and the mafia, a film that centers on greed, but, like many other films on this list, it is a coming of age story, centering on a young boy who's never too far away from the action, but never too close. He's a partly involved bystander, a guy that knows some guys that everyone knows. His storytelling is fantastic. I love the way he branches off and tells us stories that, where he lives, are legends; the story of Li'l Ze, the story of the Tender Trio, the story of Knockout Ned, the story of the apartment. All of these are well inserted into the film, and are interesting but never take us too far away from the plotline. I love watching City of God (and have many, many times) because I find something new every time, and am still very interested in the things I know already. This is what all epics should aspire to be; quite personal but still huge in scale.
9. The Royal Tenenbaums
I do like Rushmore, but The Royal Tenenbaums is on a different scale entirely; Wes Anderson, one of the better young talents in film, teamed up with some of the greatest acting talents in the business and created the greatest 'dysfunctional family' film of all time (in my own humble opinion, of course). The Royal Tenenbaums has enough style, wit and finesse for a film series, and yet it never feels the least bit overstuffed; it's light on its feet but heavy on the heart. It characters are introduced to Ravel Ysaye Quartet's String Quartet In F Major; Royal, head of the family and self proclaimed asshole; Etheline, the real head of the family, always most interested in her children's well being; Chaz, eldest son of the family, devestated and left cold by the recent death of his wife; Margot, the New York-sophisticate and playwrite, who's chronically depressed; Richie, daddy's favorite, in love with his adopted sister and a former tennis champ. Along with the family are Etheline's husband-to-be, Margot's doting husband, and Richie's childhood friend Eli. I cannot describe to you how much I love the way this montage is done, nor how good every one of these performances are. As the film carries on, each of these characters meet an interesting storyline to follow. My personal favorite is the one between Richie and Margot, which is one of my favorite movie romances. The way Wes presents the story gives the film a bit of a distant feel, which for any film but this would be a shortcoming. It's perfect for a film like this, though, because it conveys exactly what all the characters are feeling. And what an ending! This movie is definetly one of my all-time favorites, and I'm certain it always will be.
8. Taxi Driver
Martin Scorsese, my favorite director of all time, didn't expect to be slingshot into the world of elite filmmaking because of this film, a dark, gritty and brilliant trip into the mind of a New York taxi driver. I don't think he cared that he was nominated for the Oscar, which in all fairness he should've won. However, I can't help but think that the fact that he has only just recently won his first Oscar helped keep him humble, never attentive to any specific audience's expectations. This made way for his two other masterpieces, Raging Bull and Goodfellas. And even though, for me, Taxi Driver is in the middle of the three in terms of quality (Raging Bull slightly worse, Goodfellas slightly better), it's still one of the best films I've ever seen. On the surface, it just encompasses about a year in the life of Travis Bickle, but really it's much, much more. The way that it's made is so personal, so in tune with the character of Travis that it's hard not to feel connected to what in almost any other film would be an antagonist. Scorsese makes the film about Travis, and only Travis, but it's also about loneliness, alienation and the difficulty of social encounters. Travis has trouble talking to people because he spends most of his time in his own head, making himself stronger, more efficient, trying to save damsels who aren't necessarily in distress. Being a taxi driver is perfectly suited for him, because he only sees people as obstacles, one after another after another. In the end, he's snapped, and done what should have put him in jail (which instead makes him a hero). But we're given the impression that he's likely to snap again, and it's only a matter of time. De Niro's performance brilliantly encompasses all aspects of this difficult and complex character, Paul Schrader's carefully planned out script is one of the best ever written (in my humble opinion), and Scorsese's perfect direction is what makes the film not only great, but a masterpiece.
7. Le Fabouleuse Destin d'Amélie Poulain
People who refuse to read subtitles are perhaps the most annoying people to walk the earth. They're missing out on an innumerable number of fantastic films. Two of these films are in my top 10. Cidade De Deus is one of them, and Amélie is another. This is the ultimate feel-good film, a film you can pop in time after time and be dazzled by its joy, energy and creativity. I love Amélie, and have loved it ever since I first saw it; the endlessly interesting titular character, the bizzare visual style, the quirks, the fabulous music, the wonderful story. This is a film that could've easily been destroyed if it had been in the wrong hands, but with director Jean-Pierre Jeunet at the helm, Amélie came out just the way it should've. Its picturesque vision of Paris fits well with the storybook style of the story. And the story, which is rather simple at a glance, makes way for many possibilities; a young woman who decides to randomly be kind and do favors for people, all kinds of people. One that always seems to make me the happiest is when she decides to give a blind man vision, if only for a few moments, leaving him bewildered but grateful. Amelie is a trickster, and she is very strange, but this is perhaps why I have a special connection with the film (being quite strange myself). Amelie is a film that is a bit difficult to write about, because it's the experience that counts. But I cannot think of a better film to watch when you are down, and I can think of only a few better films to watch, period.
6. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
This, along with Apocalypse Now and my number two pick, are the most clichéd choices on my list, because everyone has them on their list. But I couldn't really be bothered by this, because I proudly display this masterwork on my top ten. Charlie Kaufman, who also wrote Adaptation (which would be in my top fifty), knows people. He knows the way they talk, their insecurities, their passions. And Kaufman knows both genders, not just his own. Eternal Sunshine has a certain fluidity that keeps it very realistic, while at the same time having a magical aspect that keeps it fresh and interesting. I love everything about this film; Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet's preformances are perfect, and Elijiah Wood, Mark Ruffalo, Kirsten Dunst and Tom Wilkinson are all great when they get their chance. Michel Gondry is a great director, and his gift for making visual effects from scratch is right there with this film's way. Memory is an interesting subject, and one that I am profoundly interested in. This film shows us what it might be like to lose it, and as far as I'm concerned, it would be terrible. ESotSM is poignant, funny, refreshing, romantic, and an all-around excellent experience. I sense that as I get into the higher numbers in this list, the write-ups will become increasingly difficult to write, but I can't say quite how much I love this film.
5. Goodfellas (a many-layered, visually involving and brutal crime masterpiece, with some great preformances)
The first time I watched Martin Scorsese's glossy crime epic Goodfellas, the metaphorical equivalent would be that of a slap in the face. I was no more than at the tender age of eleven, and the only other R-rated film I had ever seen was Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenenbaums (I suppose I got an early start in film). I must admit, after my first viewing I was (undertandably) appalled. Violence without a purpose. Mindless sex and greed. What I saw went against everything my parents had taught me. So I didn't watch it again until the age of fourteen, after my love of film had flourished, if only to see what all the fuss was really about. Upon this second viewing, I saw what the film's brillinat director (a man by the name of Martin Scorsese) was trying to express; that all of this happy fun was not to last, and that eventually all of these people involved would come to regret having been a part of it. Everyone knows Goodfellas is great, and most would consider it a masterpiece, but what makes it one of my favorite films of all time? Simple. It's a combination of a perfect story (written by Nicholas Pileggi, a former cop, and Scorsese himself) with touches of Scorsese's own childhood experience, visually rich and quickly paced direction by my personal favorite director, and inspired preformances all around. Goodfellas is a cinematic collaboration that other films of the genre should aspire to be. It's taut and quick but not without substance, it's fake and it's not the real world but at the same time it's as real as the keyboard I'm typing on. It's one of the only films I would go so far as to call perfect. I cannot find a flaw, but I hope to at some point, if only to put things in perspective.
4. Pulp Fiction (too obvious)
Some may find this choice boring and predictable, and they are more than entitled to their own opinion. I would go so far as to agree with them; this choice is nothing new, nothing that anybody didn't expect, nothing all that special. But for a film to be so often used in lists like these that it has become a cliché, one must wonder if it is in fact worthy of such overwhelming attention. I'll admit to not being Tarantino's biggest fan, and I didn't enjoy Kill Bill Vol.2 or Death Proof as much as I would've liked to. But Pulp Fiction, which is, by hair, my favorite film primarily about crime, is in a league all on its own. It is episodic in nature, which may surprise those on their first viewing, but Tarantino's choice to meddle the film's timeline puts the viewer in the right mindset, because the movie gets pretty hard to keep up with for those not paying attention. Wouldn't want to miss one of the film's many hilarious lines, or you won't know what's going on. And anyway, why not pay attantio? How anyone could not be glued to the screen is beyond me (that's just me though). I watched the film recently with a friend of mine. His concensus? "Too talky," he said. "Want to watch Underworld?" Yes. And he meant the sequel. Oh well... I wouldn't care if I was alone in my love for Pulp Fiction, because, like most of my favorite films, everything just fits so well. I have attentively watched Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta's careers since. I have seen the film at least ten times, maybe twenty. And, unlike many of my former favorite films, it has gotten better every time. And I always seem to uncover something new. A multi-layered maserpiece of brilliant dialogue, great storytelling, fitting direction and outstanding performances, I've got nothing else to add; Pulp Fiction perhaps the only cult film actually deserving of its massive fanbase. Save for Fight Club, of course.
3. Annie Hall (a delicate tale of love and loss with some of the best one-liners ever)
Never, in my mind, will there be as beautiful a love story on film as the one in Annie Hall. Realistic, touching, heartbreaking, and wickedly funny, Annie Hall is not only "one of those" films where you only remember certain scenes, but rather one where every scene is perfect, and conveys a deep and sincere emotion, whether it be a pleasant or unpleasant one. Whatever the case, if I only know one thing about this fantastic film, it's that it's perfect. My former favorite film of all time, Annie Hall stars Woody Allen as Alvy, a New York comic and nervous socialite, who meets and falls in love with Annie, played to perfection by Diane Keaton, a girl who uses words like 'la dee dah' in normal sentences. Even if she comes across as a bit ditzy, they fall in luff (or so Alvy says, looking for a more powerful word than love), and everything they go through together just works. They fight lobsters, reminesce about memories and argue over the bug infestation of Annie's apartment, with spiders the size of Buicks. But referring to the memories, the film's jump-around timeline makes the film much like rediscovering an old photo album, all of the photographs vivid with stories. And by the end, when they've finally realized that they just can't be right for one another, Keaton's beautiful singing voice is played over clips of the couple's time together. At the very end, Alvy says what I think is one of the most observant and deep things that a comedian could say about a relationship. But if you've never seen the film before, you don't deserve having me spoil it for you.
2. Fight Club (too obvious)
I'm not going to argue that Fight Club has some connection to homoeroticity, and I personally have no problem with that. If that's the film's path, let it take that path. But these observations nonwithstanding, Fight Club is a movie that takes a good, hard look at what's wrong with the population, and it's not wars or racism or murder, but rather one of the most quiet, unexplored problems; consumerism. But here I am, talking about the film's message. Even if I was all for consumerism and a homophobe (neither of which are true, mind you), I would still admire Fight Club for what it is; a taut, well-paced and extremely intelligent trip, complete with fabulous performances, excellent direction, and what is perhaps my favorite screenplay. Fight Club questions "what if" more and farther than I'm sure almost anyone would go, and throughout its rather long running time, I always find myself completely absorbed and enthralled. It has some of the most brilliant filmmaking ever put to the silver screen; from its subtle green wash, to breaking the fourth wall, this quick caper is more entertaining than almost any other movie I've ever seen, because the characters and the situations feel real at the same time as they feel false. I suppose that my analysis of Goodfellas was similar, but the two films do share a similarity, if only a mild one. Anyway, for lack of more (and better) explanatory devices, I don't hesitate to call the film perfect. This is one of the only films I've ever seen where I simply cannot grasp how anyone could hate anything about it. It's simply a beautiful, witty, hilarious, brutal masterpiece.
1. Almost Famous (hard not to fall in love with this one; love it to death)
Almost Famous, though it may not be the "best" film of all time, will most likely always be my favorite, because it represents a lot of what I wish to happen in my life. Traveling is one of my favorite things to do, and at such a young age, I would love to be taught the way of something by someone who's been doing that something a long, long time. Although mine would be film and not music, I love every song in this film, and every song is perfect in the film. Almost Famous simply fits, and it's not lacking one thing, I don't think it could've been done better by anyone. It's funny, it's not completely sugar-coated (although I admit it's much less brutal than it could've been), it's intelligent, it works. The direction, although not flashy or a centerpiece, works well, and the film is uplifted more by its rightfully Oscar-winning screenplay and top-notch performances. Hudson, Fugit and McDormand's performances are three of my all-time favorites. Simply put, because I'm finding it quite hard to focus on just how much I adore this film, Almost Famous flows without ever stopping, never messing up. Perfect is a word too often used, because I don't think it encompasses this film to its fullest extent. Almost Famous has heart, but also humor, it has moments of passion, moments of sadness, moments of excitement, moments of discovery, all handled in the least lame or tacky way possible. It's primarily a coming of age film, and I, being a rather big fan of the genre, think this is undoubtedly the best I've seen. Almost Famous is a treat, a film to watch to bring you back up, a film you watch whenever you're bored because it's almost devilishly entertaining. I loved music before I watched the film, and I still love music, but Almost Famous made me appreciate music as much as I do film (well, almost). I remember back when I first saw the film, I wanted to be William so much. I can admit now that I kind of still do.
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