Having grown up in the Bay Area (where this film is set, just over the golden gate) in similar communal conditions with parents and guides of the same Vietnam-protesting vagabond/artist generation, I was stunned by the grace and accuracy of this film. The cinematography alone was breathtaking, and with substance to play with like the eucalyptus forests of Marin, the bookshelf lined cafe district of North Beach San Francisco, the misty Pacific coast, and Darryl Hannah (!), I can say without a breath of doubt they did something very magical a whole lotta justice.
Hannah's character reeked of a wild wanderlust and a seemingly disorienting excess of love and passion that it seemed as though the bounds of the film itself were keeping her in a captivity that was at the same time thrilling and unbearable. As Darryl Hannah grows older, her incredible grace and growling intricacies are all the more heart-stopping.
Though she plays a painfully awkward character, Clea DuVall performs her character wholly (alongside a perfect cast, including still-unknown Richard Hillman). I applaud the author for letting herself be drawn so harshly and honestly in the character of Cally, a seventeen year-old victim of a young parental generation that, though highly effective for the more curious and fervid of us, carelessly left to the wayside the sons and daughters that needed a bit more than just freedom and an echoing concert hall.
