In this movie, which I saw last night, Will Ferrell successfully creates a character to whom eating a cookie is an enormous risk. Eating a cookie<\/i>. He stares at the cookie. It’s not so much the COOKIE that is the problem. It is the fact that it is a gift. And also the fact that he has never had homemade cookies, only store-bought, and he is afraid of having a new experience. He lives his life in such a way that he can avoid new experiences. I realized, in watching that moment – that moment when Will Ferrell hesitates when he is offered the cookie – or no, he doesn’t hesitate – that’s not it: He is offered the cookie. It has just come out of the oven. He immediately says, “No thanks.” HIs whole LIFE is about saying “No thanks” to EVERYthing. Without thought. He has nothing against cookies. He’s not allergic to chocolate. He doesn’t think he’s about to be poisoned. It’s an automatic response for him. This is not an easy kind of character to create – and there is nothing in Will Ferrell’s work before this that would suggest this KIND of man. Will Ferrell plays extroverts, jackasses, fearless eccentrics, weirdos, sex pervs. He’s hilarious. But watch him in that moment when he can’t take the cookie. This is truly the critical moment of his life. It all comes down to this moment. A lifetime boiled down to its essence. He is afraid. He is afraid. And why is he afraid? For the first time, ever, in his life – you can see him ask himself the question. Why am I so afraid? Not just of the cookie … the cookie is only a symbol … why am I afraid of EVERYTHING? Why? Will Ferrell is so perfect in this moment, so simple and true. My eyes flooded with tears – watching that brief expression of internal despair flash over his face – the hesitation, the caution, and now the knowledge that maybe … just maybe … he doesn’t have to live like that.<\/p>\n
It’s a wonderful performance – one of the best I have seen this year – and the reason why is all encapsulated in the cookie scene. First of all, it’s wonderful because – empirically – he does a good job with the scene. Second of all, it was the moment, for me, when I realized: Wow. This movie is GOOD. Thirdly, I was watching an actor open himself up in a way that I had never seen before. Ferrell, personally – but also any actor. It’s the kind of performance that is even MORE moving because of the expectations we have of Will Ferrell. He is not ‘acting’ – he doesnt’ have one moment in this movie where he reminds us: Member? Member who I am? I’m Will Ferrell, funny guy!! He plays Harold Crick. A humorless shy cautious IRS agent. He IS that guy. It is a complete transformation – and even more moving and effective because it is HIM doing it. It’s never schmacty, the way Robin Williams’ more serious parts can sometimes be. It is real. It is a deeply compassionate performance. It has no ego in it. He submerges much of his natural tendencies into the demands of this particular part. I want to hug him for it.<\/p>\n
During the cookie scene, my heart was breaking and sprouting wings at the same time. Now that’s a good moment in a movie that can generate such a response. I felt: Oh God. Oh God. He’s letting himself have feelings for her. He has feelings for her. And on the heels of that, I felt the sadness … the inherent sadness of someone that shy, that pained … letting himself open up. Trying to accept his own feelings. Trying to accept the cookie. Trying to not say “No thanks” for once … but say “Yes”. There’s something heartbreaking about those moments. I have them myself. It’s not easy for certain types of people to say “Yes”.<\/p>\n
There is so much else to love about this movie – the story itself, first of all. It really is about the artistic process – and Emma Thompson’s search for the ending of her book. It is handled with humor, and yet – you just get the sense that the writer, the director – those who have made this movie – GET that this is an important search. To some, it would seem an easy choice: “Sheesh, who gives a shit about the ending of the book! Harold should live!” Ah yes, but that is only one way of looking at it. Another way is from the book-lover’s point of view. What would happen if Dostoevsky killed Raskolnikov? The ending of that book – with its possibility of redemption – has always seemed to me to be piercingly correct. I remember the first time I read the book – and as I approached the end, I completely expected that Raskolnikov would either be killed, or would commit suicide. This seemed to be the only way the book would end. But no. Dostoevsky had other plans. Dostoevsky had something ELSE that he wanted to say. Even now, I can feel a lump growing in my throat as I think about the ending of that book. And this is what Stranger Than Fiction<\/i> looks at. What if Dostoevsky’s original plan had been to kill Raskolnikov? And what if Raskolnikov had somehow gotten wind that he was the main character in a novel being written … and in order for the novel to be finished – he would have to die. Now yes, he would lose his life … but he would be guaranteed immortality, and ALSO he would have the chance, for the first time in his miserable sorry little life, to be part of something GREAT. Harold Crick, a man who has never made waves in his life, who has no real friends, who is just now falling in love for the first time ever, who is slowly learning that to accept a cookie will not make him shatter into a million bits … has to ask himself: What have I ever done that is as great as writing a masterpiece? What has been MY role on this planet? How have I contributed? Have I done anything that even comes CLOSE to what this author (played by a superb – when is she not – Emma Thompson) has done?<\/p>\n
I found myself, by the end of the movie, wiping tears off my face. Why was I weeping? Because it was such an unbelievable joy to sit in that movie theatre and to watch that story unfold. Up until the last couple minutes, I had no idea how it would resolve … and when it did … it was so absolutely RIGHT that it seemed inevitable. Only I hadn’t seen it coming. Roger Ebert in his review<\/a> closes with:<\/p>\n The ending is a compromise — but it isn’t the movie’s compromise, it belongs entirely to the characters and is their decision. And that made me smile.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n I felt that. I felt the beauty of all of the characters – the choices they each had made, the ways that they had grappled with issues of death, and art, and love. These are not facile characters, or shallow. They are people who all deeply care about whatever it is that they care about. This is often not the case in movies – where the characters seem to be just the agents of the plotliine. They move the plot along. (And Dustin Hoffman, as the literature professor Harold Crick seeks out, makes that point. “Are you a victim of the plot? Or are you driving the plot? So stay home tomorrow – don’t go to work – and do absolutely NOTHING – and see if the plot continues on without you.”) These characters live. Watch how Maggie says, “You are not okay. You are severely<\/i> injured.” I am still laughing about how she says that line, and how beautiful and human and real it is. “You are severely<\/i> injured.”<\/p>\n But what I am really left with is the image of Will Ferrell, in his bland trenchcoat, holding his bland briefcase, staring at Maggie, with her little kerchief on her head, and the swooping red dragon tattoo flying up her arm … and she holds out a plate of hot gooey cookies, smiling at him with a strangely open yet baffled smile … and he just can’t say Yes. He stands there, and he can’t say Yes … and he wonders, he wonders to himself: why. why. why can I not say Yes …. what would happen if I just said Yes?<\/i><\/p>\n Best movie I’ve seen all year.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" In this movie, which I saw last night, Will Ferrell successfully creates a character to whom eating a cookie is an enormous risk. Eating a cookie. He stares at the cookie. It’s not so much the COOKIE that is the … Continue reading