Stranger Than Fiction

Submitting to consistency, often comes with the knowledge that, one who has remained consistent is typically caught unawares he or she has been living a day in and day out similar existence for years. The reprisal for which is generally represented by the sudden and unceremonious realization of something new as, both terrifying in its inherent simplicity and, at the same time, excruciatingly difficult to obtain. Marc Forster's new film, the Will Ferrell led, Stranger Than Fiction, starts with a detailed, funny and sorrowful script by Zach Helm. Helm's writing adds to Forster's kind of fantastic filmmaking with which this time of year was meant to be filled.

Confoundingly simple, yet through its entertaining nougat center, it comes off as a more complex and less derivative film. Ferrell's Harold Crick, haunted by the potentially schizophrenic realization that his life is being narrated to him as he goes through the motions of his everyday, nearly meaningless existence, is notably toned-down, a notion that will have many of his rowdier fans skipping this one. Here, Ferrell has a chance, similar to other comedians like Jim Carrey and Adam Sandler, to show everyone that his schtick consists of much more than what we've been seeing, yet has made him so insanely popular. Much like certain roles of the aforementioned comedians, Ferrell delivers a delightfully nuanced performance that will unfortunately mean less tickets at the box-office. Aided by charming performances, Ferrell's co-stars exist not to simply further the plot, but to bring about actual character development. Most notably, is Maggie Gyllenhaal's Ana Pascal, a tattooed, tax-evading, bakery owner who happens to draw Ferrell on an audit. Gyllenhaal is an unlikely, awkward, but ultimately suitable partner, and her internalized grace, in the confines of the script, works so well here that the pairing of the two comes off without a hitch.

However, it is the seeming urgency of Crick's renewed interest in life, due to his overhearing the imminence of his demise, that sets forth, not only his romantic endeavors, but the essence of the film as well. Crick's life literally hangs in the balance and his every move is seemingly watched by the mentally blocked word processor of Emma Thompson's Karen Eiffel...a literary genius, at least in the eyes of Dustin Hoffman's community-college literary professor, Jules Hilbert. Both actors, here, take a shot at potentially, the best performance either has had in years.

Hoffman is gleefully inept at anything remotely outside his realm of literature. His professional obsession mixed with his near intolerance of messing with perfection, even at the expense of a man's life, is a bold choice, which is neither nefarious nor unbelievable. Added to the mix, Thompson's Eiffel is a wonderfully maudlin, lonely woman languishing in her own inability to dispose of someone she believes is fictitious.

And therein lies the beauty of Stranger Than Fiction; its own slightly ludicrous thread is never met by the ineffective plot trap known as disbelief. Helm's script is quickly paced and capable of providing his audiences with characters who are believable and not so far removed from ourselves that they are lost in caricature. Stranger Than Fiction takes the unbelievable and presents it as fact. These people simply are experiencing what we see. There is nothing to hide and that kind of honesty in a film is not only hard to find, but a delicate procedure when done well. Here, everyone should be commended with making one of the season's most enjoyable films.