Will Ferrell can always make me laugh. I’m talking deep, guffawing belly laughs. His latest movie, the Nascar themed “Talladega Nights,” is no exception.
Ferrell plays Ricky Bobby, a racing superstar who lives to win. He has a huge house, a sexy wife, and two bratty kids name "Walker" and "Texas Ranger." When French Formula-One Racing champion Jean Girard arrives in the United States to challenge him, our hero gets into a horrible wreck that sends his career and personal life into a downward spiral, leaving him without a racing sponsor or a wife. A shadow of his arrogant former self, Ricky Bobby must learn to get rid of “the fear,” regain his edge, and retake his mantle as a champion. That’s pretty much all the plot there is, but it’s enough to pull us along for Ferrell’s ridiculous ride.
As always, Ferrell has surrounded himself with a stellar cast. John C. Reily, one of my favorite actors, plays Bobby’s best friend, Cal Naughton Jr. The scenes between Ferrell and Reily are largely improvised and completely hilarious, and I’m excited to hear that they’ll be working together again in Ferrell’s next big comedy. Ferrell consistently plays dumb American machismo better than anybody else (the USC graduate was a frat member, and as a former Trojan myself, it's easy to see where he got the inspiration for the loud, sexist bores he plays so well,) and Reily adds a nice twist as his devoted sidekick who lets him win every race at his own expense- and “buries the hurt deep inside.” Sacha Baron Cohen, better known as Ali G, is equally hilarious as the pompous, gay, and very French Girard, and Gary Cole is terrific as Ricky’s irresponsible father, who helps his son get his groove back after his downfall.
Just like “Anchorman,” the movie is a total mess. It’s clear that a lot of story bits were cut in favor of pacing, so when the wonderful Amy Adams, as Ricky’s former assistant, approaches him in a bar and gives an impassioned speech for him to get back in the game (set to one of Journey’s greatest hits,) it hasn’t been established why her behavior is so out of character for her. The direction, by Adam McKay, is just barley competent. Most of the “mise en scene,” as they say in film school, consists of garishly bright product placements (which is accurate to the world of Nascar, and the movie does take the opportunity to make light of it- but still.) These criticisms would bug me a lot more in most movies, but I was laughing too hard most of the time to pay attention to them.
Like most Ferrell vehicles, the comedy is broad, the filmmaking is messy, the screenplay seems half-finished, and there are three times as many big laughs as every other movie in theatres. I’m excited to see Ferrell branch out this year into riskier, more subtle territory in this fall’s “Stranger than Fiction.” But for now, I’m just glad to enjoy another lap around the track with Will Ferrell’s so dumb it’s smart style of comedy.
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I just got back from “Talladega Nights.” Fucking loved it. Sacha Baron Cohen stole the show (obviously) – during that stretch in the middle when Ricky Bobby is getting back to his roots and all I was pining away for that dastardly French racecar driver. I can only assume there’s at least forty five minutes of raw, Baron Cohen-y genius left on the cutting room floor (and resurrected for the eventual DVD). I love that these movies (this and “Anchorman”) don’t even try to be a cohesive movie – they’re bizarre to the point of abstraction, making them high art masquerading as populist entertainment. Fucking genius. It was kind of weird not having the racecars anthropomorphic… damn you Pixar, changin’ my whole perspective on shit. And what’s it going to take to have Gary Cole be acknowledged as a National Treasure? (I’d assumed it would have been around the time of “Simple Plan” and “Office Space” but noooooooooooooooooooo) I’m tired.
D.
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