I read High Fidelity several months ago in anticipation of its theatrical release.  While the best-selling Gen X novel was certainly a good read, I couldn’t envision it being made into film - a film worth watching, anyway.  There really isn’t any action, and it’s pretty light on dialogue, instead focusing on the rambling thoughts of its romantically challenged main character.  I figured there was two ways to handle this in a screen adaptation:  Either use a voice-over to show what the character is thinking, or replace what he’s thinking with additional dialogue and action not found in the novel.

Imagine my surprise at the first scene, where protagonist Rob Gordon is delivering his lines right into the camera.  “Jesus,” I thought, “this is going to be really annoying for two hours.”  But the narrations actually grew on me.  Fidelity is lucky to have cast John Cusack (Being John Malkovich), who may be the only actor in the world that could pull off this role.  It probably didn’t hurt that Cusack also produced and co-wrote the film, tailoring it to meet both his splendid comic timing and hangdog vulnerability (read: sad puppy-dog eyes).  Fidelity is an unqualified hit and, although it’s way too early to be saying this, might be one of the better films you’ll see all year.

Formerly a successful club DJ, Cusack’s thirty-something Rob is now the owner of a struggling record shop called Championship Vinyl, which is located off the beaten path in downtown Chicago.  His two employees, Barry and Dick (Jack Black, Enemy of the State; and Todd Louiso, Eight Heads in a Duffel Bag), are the type of elitist record geeks that mock you to your face if you can’t tell the difference between an original pressing and a reissue of an obscure Frank Zappa album.  But Rob tolerates it because he’s a bit of a musical snob, as well.  The three busy themselves by compiling Top 5 lists that cover everything from the all-time best death songs to the greatest Monday morning songs.  And be warned – expect the more jug-headed critics to begin their reviews with a “Top Five Reasons I Loved/Hated This Movie” list.

The film actually opens with Rob listing his desert-island, all-time, top five most memorable split-ups, which are then shown in flashbacks over the first third of the film.  He’s recently been jilted by live-in lover Laura (Iben Hjejle, Mifune – this is her first English-speaking role) and begins to contact all of his old exes in an attempt to pinpoint the exact cause of his inability to maintain relationships with members of the opposite sex.  This quest, together with Rob’s bizarre need to reorganize his massive record collection in times of crisis, make up the bulk of the film.

Aside from changing the setting of the film from London to Chicago, Fidelity stays extremely faithful to its source.  Most of the lines are taken verbatim from the book, which was written by Nick Hornby, who also penned the soccer novel Fever Pitch, the film of which saw limited release in 1999.  Ironically, the only thing British in the film (other than some behind-the-camera talent) is Catherine Zeta-Jones, who plays one of Rob’s exes.  And everyone think she’s Hispanic (she’s Welsh).  My only complaint is that “book” Rob would have hated most of the bands that “movie” Rob was into.  He had a Bush poster on the wall of his apartment, for God’s sake.  I think that may even be illegal in England - and if it isn’t, it should be.

Perhaps the greatest thing about Fidelity is its uncanny ability to make viewers point out old albums that they’ve owned during interior shots of Rob’s record store.  Oh, there goes that King Crimson bootleg that I just bought on eBay for $50.  Hey, there’s the first Hanoi Rocks record that my sister crayoned all over.  I saw people literally pointing at the screen in awe that these records existed anywhere but in their own personal collections.

Also noteworthy is the wildly kinetic performance of Jack Black, who steals every scene he’s in.  This role could make him into the new Philip Seymour Hoffman.  There is a surprise cameo (musical, of course) and the closing credits are fantastic, showing the names of the film’s participants on concert handbills.  Fidelity was directed by Stephen Frears (The Hi-Lo Country) and adapted from Hornby’s novel by Cusack and his Grosse Pointe Blank collaborators D.V. DeVincentis and Steve Pink, as well as ConAir’s Scott Rosenberg.  Their film is obviously a carefully crafted labor of love that should be a big hit with everyone, especially if you were born in the 1960s or ‘70s, still own a turntable or ever worked in a record store.

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