For the
sake of not having to write the same intro a million
different ways throughout the rest of time, just know that
this column avoids the overly long and sometimes dull
process of full film reviews and instead opts to break
things down based on what I thought going in, what happened
while I was there and what I learned at the end of it all.
Thanks for reading!
The
Breakdown - Everything Must Go
The Impression:
Adapting a Raymond Carver short story for the screen has
never been easy for anyone, and to do so as your debut
feature seems like a very plausible way of one-timing your
entire Hollywood career. Also, casting Will Ferrell as your
main character sets you fifteen feet behind the starting
line.
The Reality:
Raymond Carver’s short story "Why Don’t You Dance" is barely
a story. Yes, it’s deftly and dangerously written by one of
the great short fiction writers ever, but there isn’t much
to it. A few conversations, some pondering, and then
nothing. The short story can be a great place for film
adaptation to stem from as the essence of a short story is a
great idea, and if given proper respect, these great ideas
can be spun out in to great films. Dan Rush might have
reached too far in attempting to adapt this specific story
though as Everything Must Go fleshes out the story
with a lot of cloying muck that soften the edges Carver was
so beloved for without adding anything. Will Ferrell plays
Nick Halsey, a recovering alcoholic who’s been fired from
his job and kicked out of his house by his wife all on the
same day. All of his shit has been booted in to the front
yard, his car has been repossessed and he’s left with
nothing to do and nowhere to go but a chair in his front
yard. Halsey, a jock turned soft as played by Ferrell,
drinks his way through two-thirds of the film, befriending
neighbors and other outcasts (a chubby black kid and
toothless homeless guy) before deciding to better himself by
selling all of his shit. The film is paced to give meaning,
but there isn’t much present, so instead the audience is
forced to wallow through nearly two hours of meandering
shots and Will Ferrell drinking, but not in a funny way. And
here is the capper to my long list of complaints about this
film: Will Ferrell can not be in a serious film as a serious
character. Not to say I advocate type-casting, but Ferrell’s
very persona, his movements, his voice, his aura, are
hilarious and trying to shove these down in emotional
moments never works. The only moments from the film I
clearly remember are the ones where I was inappropriately
laughing at Will Ferrell. And that’s a bad thing.
The Lesson:
Two-fold: stay away from Raymond Carver adaptations unless
you are Robert Altman. And, stop trying to make a serious
actor out of yourself Ferrell, it’s completely impossible
for you to do so.
- Noah Sanders
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