Hathaway explores music scene

If Anne Hathaway's indie vanity project, Song One, proves anything, it's that charming characters exchanging soulful looks can get you only so far in the absence of an actual story. Even if the proceedings are accompanied by a rich tapestry of acoustic songs.

Writer-director Kate Barker-Froyland's debut feature, which Hathaway coproduced, starts off as a singularly strong slice-of-life drama before dissipating into thin air.

Hathaway plays Franny (a J.D. Salingerian name signifying off-the-wall kookiness and deep resources of feeling), a headstrong Ph.D. candidate in anthropology who has to cut short her work in the North African desert when her brother, Henry (Ben Rosenfield), falls into a coma after a Brooklyn car accident.

With a fetching super-short haircut and so much heart you swear you can see it bleed through the screen, Hathaway's Franny rushes to Henry's bedside, fueled by concern and debilitating guilt.

The siblings have had an adamantine bond since childhood, but they clashed violently six months earlier, when Henry dropped out of college to pursue his dream of becoming a singer-songwriter. A disapproving Franny insulted her baby brother and cut off all contact.

Franny and Henry belong to that marvelous species of Manhattanites who fill up Salinger's stories and Woody Allen's films - the driven, erudite, urbane, articulate offspring of distinctly accomplished parents. Their dad died some time ago, but their mom (Mary Steenburgen), a leading anthropologist and author, has enough force of will to make up for any male absence.

It's clear Franny shoulders the burden of her mother's outsize expectations of success, while Henry has enjoyed a more relaxed, giving love.

The young man's coma gives Franny the space to explore his world and fall under the spell of the music, the food, the cityscapes, and the Brooklyn locales that have sustained him. That includes the work of his favorite singer-songwriter, James Forester. When she learns Forester is in town for a series of concerts, Franny seeks him out and befriends him.

British musician and actor Johnny Flynn (The Lotus Eaters) is perfect as the shy, melancholy artist, whom Franny persuades to sing some of his songs in Henry's hospital room.

The instant attraction between Franny and James flowers into full-blown romance as they visit Henry's usual haunts and attend shows by his favorite musicians. We tag along, courtesy of Barker-Froyland's handheld cameras, and are treated to performances by real-life artists Sharon Van Etten, the Felice Brothers, and Naomi Shelton.

That's when things begin to fall apart. Once the sexual tension is resolved, the film loses focus, devolving into an aimless tour of the local music scene.

Song One burns with genuine sentiment, charismatic actors, and good music. One wishes it were held together by something more than a series of moods.

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