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'Nowhere Boy' offers a young slice of Lennon, very well played

There are so many ways in which "Nowhere Boy," an emotionally raw and yet raucous, rockin' riff on John Lennon's turbulent teenage years, is such an entertaining piece of nostalgia.

There are so many ways in which "Nowhere Boy," an emotionally raw and yet raucous, rockin' riff on John Lennon's turbulent teenage years, is such an entertaining piece of nostalgia.

It takes us back to a time when rock 'n' roll was still finding its way and its warriors; before reality TV would begin minting rock stars like shiny new pennies and before Lennon or anyone else had any idea just how salient and strikingly original all those thoughts churning around in his young head would prove to be.

Lennon's is by now a much-examined life - still, most of the attention has been on his years with the Beatles, then as a solo artist and finally his murder at 40 and the unfinished musical legacy left behind. Instead, director Sam Taylor-Wood has concentrated her focus on a relatively obscure time beginning in 1955 when a series of personal losses, layered on top of typical 15-year-old rebellion, conspired to reshape a boy who, without those twists of fate, might have grown into an ordinary man.

In "Nowhere Boy," her artistic eye is clearly at work, and there is a growing confidence that gives the film the swagger it needs to take on such an iconic figure, head unbowed.

The movie opens with John (Aaron Johnson) roughhousing with his beloved uncle George (David Threlfall), who with John's tight prig of an aunt, Mimi (Kristin Scott Thomas), took him in as a child and raised him as their own. Where George easily doles out affection and, as significantly, John's first musical instrument, a harmonica, Scott Thomas's Mimi has mastered the art of looking down her nose at the world and everyone in it as if they were giving off a slightly bad smell. For now, Lennon's mother is little more than random scraps of childhood memories.

George's fatal heart attack changes all that, reconnecting John with Julia (Anne-Marie Duff), the mother who deserted him, and setting up a tug-of-war between the estranged sisters that will forever shift his bearings and long influence his music. Where Mimi is a keep-the-windows-locked kind of influence in his life, Julia is a throw-them-open-and-let-the-sun-shine-in sort. She's also a fragile flower, beautifully and seductively played by Duff.

Julia takes John into her life, introducing him to the emerging underground sounds of blues, rock and Elvis; she will teach him to play the banjo. But it is Mimi who bends to buy him his first guitar, only to sell it when his grades falter.

Their struggle would have no traction without a compelling presence in the center of the storm. In this the filmmakers got lucky with Johnson. He infuses his character with a winning blend of teenage uncertainty and cocksure charisma and manages to handle the singing and playing as if he were not doing it for the first time.

After seeing an early cut of the film, Lennon's widow, Yoko Ono, let them use his recording of "Mother" over the end credits, and McCartney gave permission for an early song he wrote with Harrison, "In Spite of All the Danger," to be used at a pivotal point in the film when the band begins to coalesce. In doing so, they have given "Nowhere Boy" their blessing.

It's a nice touch, but the talented Taylor-Wood has created such a poignantly authentic telling of a life that the film stands just fine on its own.

Produced by Robert Bernstein, Kevin Loader, Douglas Rae, directed by Sam Taylor-Wood, written by Julia Baird, Matt Greenhalgh, music by Alison Goldfrapp, Will Gregory, distributed by The Weinstein Company.