I Know Son Of Sam Didn't Kill Gay People. But I Do.
I like a Will Ferrell movie. Did he get better, or did I get dumber? I really hope it's the former and not the latter, because I'm not looking forward to getting to the point where I can't figure out how to work my keys and get impressed by Dan Brown novels. However, if he is getting better, then there might be trouble on the horizon, as bad comedians turned good actors is one of the signs of the coming apocalypse, where the seas will run red with blood and a beast with 10 crowns 10 heads, each doing bad Christopher Walken impressions and bits about programming VCRs, will rule the earth. One fourth of the Earth's population will be ravaged by Jim Carrey, one forth scoured by Robin Williams, and a quarter slaughtered by Jack Black, with the final portion of the population, apparently, falling victim to Will Ferrell as a poisoned star falls from the sky to boil the oceans.
As for Stranger Than Fiction, the film is high concept without being either confusing, like Primer, or nerdy, like Adaptation. Ferrell plays Harold Crick, a tax agent for the IRS who discovers he's a character in Emma Thompson's new novel. He discovers this because he's hearing her narration as she writes the story, which is something like being able to read the script of the TV movie of the week based on your life. For the record, mine will be called To Walk The Night: The Ash Karreau Story. It will star Mark Paul Gosselar from TV's Saved By The Bell as yours truly, with Tiffany Amber Theissen as the love interest, and Eddie from Frasier as the dog that tells me to kill people. The police detective on my trail will be Richard Greico, and he will loudly proclaim, without irony, "he's turning this into a game!" about 45 minutes into the first hour. Un, where was I? Oh, yes, Stranger Than Fiction. It's good, surprisingly. It's actually fairly intelligent, and playfully raises a bunch of interesting questions about both narrative and fatalism, in a way that's charming without being so gay a dog has to tell me to shoot it.
Underage? Read a PG-13 review at The Comic Book Bin. Then come over to my house and let me watch you touch yourself. Girls and effeminate boys only need apply.