TALLADEGA NIGHTS:  THE BALLAD OF RICKY BOBBY and STRANGER THAN FICTION *** (out of ****) Starring Will Ferrell. 2006 PG13
TALLADEGA NIGHTS Also starring John C. Reilly, Michael Clarke Duncan, Sacha Baron Cohen, Gary Cole, and Amy Adams Directed by Adam McKay & written by McKay and Ferrell 108 min
		STRANGER THAN FICTION Also starring Maggie Gyllenhaal, Dustin Hoffman, Emma Thompson, Queen Latifah, and Tom Hulce Directed by Marc Forster & written by Zach Helm 113 min
“Talladega Nights” is a powerfully stoopud and implausibly entertaining satire of all that’s crass and shallow in America.  “America loves a winner and hates a loser” Patton once said (or something like that), and NASCAR driver Ricky Bobby (Will Ferrell) lives that motto with every top-of-the-voice bellow.  It’s revealing that no one punishes his kids for throwing grandpa’s WWII medals off a bridge because grandpa hasn’t won anything lately. Ricky Bobby’s basic attitude is that if you can do something you should do that thing until someone can force you to stop.  Anything else is bad for America, the economy, the culture, whatever.  So a parade of obscenity-spouting jackasses cover themselves in logos and drive real fast.  Ricky Bobby finds his nemesis in a man who is everything not what he considers American – gay, cultured, jazz-listening, a reader – a French Formula One driver given delirious life by “Borat’s” Sacha Baron Cohen. Gary Cole, who gained pop-culture immortality as the despicable boss Lumberg in “Office Space,” plays Ricky Bobby’s drunken lout of a dad.  (“Grandpa!  We’re bored!  Think of something for us to do!”  To which Cole replies “How about you dig a hole in the backyard while I have a beer?”).  The phenomenal cast also includes Jane Lynch (the porn-star turned folk singer from “A Mighty Wind”) as Ricky’s mom; like Ferrell, Michael Clarke Duncan and John C. Reilly deliver idiotic lines with complete gravity, the latter bellowing forcefully while the former is utterly, puppy sincere when giving an un-requested account of his experience posing for “PlayGirl.” As for “Stranger Than Fiction,” the new film from Marc Forster (“Monster’s Ball,” “Finding Neverland”), it’s a pleasantly restrained mainstream comedy about a man named Crick who hears a voice in his head – the voice of a novelist who is unknowingly writing the story of his life.  The movie doesn’t waste time on boring stuff like Crick having to convince people of his plight, or of awkward sitcom contrivances about how he hears the voice and others don’t.  Instead, people semi-believe him early and then play along.  The monkeywrench thrown into the works is that the novel’s conclusion, foreshadowed early, is Crick’s death.  Crick is none too pleased but it’s the only way the author can finish it.  Not surprisingly, Crick seeks meaning in his life, which at the multiplex means a woman. Will Ferrell’s turn as the man with the voice in his head couldn’t be less like Ricky Bobby.  While Ricky Bobby is booming, demonstrative, and brick-like in his density, “Stranger’s” Harold Crick is wonderfully understated.  While so many comedies are all screaming and yelling, Ferrell is self-contained and understated.  His friendless, joyless IRS agent is like J. Alfred Prufrock come to life, taking the exact same steps to work everyday, without an interest in his life. “Stranger” features two of my favorite actresses:  Emma Thompson as the writer, chain-smoking and cranky, and Queen Latifah as her level-headed assistant. As the literature professor Crick asks for help, Dustin Hoffman projects just the right amount of amusement and skepticism, who never quite believes Crick’s predicament but finds it too interesting to pass up.  Oh yeah, and two of Crick’s dunce coworkers are those guys from the Sonic commercials. Finished Sunday, December 17th, 2006 Copyright © 2006 Friday & Saturday Night                                                                                                          Back to home.