Hi, everyone. "Moriarty" here with some Rumblings From The Lab...
Man, I hope this one works. I haven’t read it, but having talked to Favreau about it, I can tell you that he’s trying to make a family film and a comedy, and he doesn’t want to skimp on either aspect.
So has he done it? Well, Mr. Beaks knows...
Warning to my devoted fans in the Talk Back who don’t like my articles: this is another article by me. ELF - Test Screening (d. Jon Favreau, w. David Berenbaum, Scot Armstrong and Favreau)
According to well-known SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE gospel, a young upstart named Eddie Murphy rescued the comedic institution on the first episode of its 1981-82 season when he took to the airwaves as “Little Richard Simmons”. Following a year in which Charles “Fuck” Rocket had been the go-to performer, this was a call-in-the-Vatican miracle akin to finding the Holy Mother’s image on a truck stop condom dispenser. If you’ve never seen the skit, check it out on THE BEST OF EDDIE MURPHY, and listen to the shocked laughter as Eddie chides a chubby woman for wearing “battleship gray”. It’s a classic moment of live televised discovery, but, since I was only seven years-old at the time, the significance of the moment was lost on me. (In fact, the whole show was probably lost on me, since I usually conked out during that treacherous half-hour wasteland between the end of FANTASY ISLAND and the cold opening of SNL called the “Eleven O’clock News”.)
What I do remember, however, is sitting in my messy college-house living room in the fall of 1995 with friends as we watched a bunch of unknowns attempt to, once again, save a badly damaged SNL that had ignominiously lost its way. The outlook was bleak. I mean, things were so fucking dire they’d only been able to wrangle hard-livin’ Mariel Hemingway, apparently promoting her being a Hemingway and not having offed herself yet, to host. After some stale OJ jokes and an opening monologue that probably found the host walking backstage to chat with Lorne and the new kids, the first full sketch started. The set-up was distressingly stock – two middle-class couples engaging in idle chit-chat in the backyard as they barbeque on the patio – and seemed to be going nowhere. But just as I was about ready to give up, the tall, kinda dorky-looking blond guy working the grill stopped in mid-sentence, peered out past the camera and shattered the sereneness of the moment by shouting, apropos of nothing, “Get off the shed!” Being that I’m a sucker for non-sequiturs, I burst out laughing. Sure, Sandler had been working similar territory a few years prior to this, but he didn’t have this guy’s quaint everyman appeal that made the explosion so jarring. In any event, no sooner does the character resume cordial conversation with his now-slightly unnerved neighbors, he’s at it again. “Get off the damn shed!!!” The sketch keeps playing with this dynamic; this man is a totally sweet, likeable, level-headed father until the kids start acting up again. Only the bit builds to the point that the next time he’s literally threatening to beat the shit out of them in full view of the entire neighborhood. Like almost every latter day SNL sketch, it didn’t resolve itself very well, but that didn’t matter. I was hooked.
This careening between irresistible sweetness and frightening, near-homicidal rage made Will Ferrell a standout on SNL for several years, but, as with even the most talented performers, his work there began to plateau as the writers, presumably under edict from Herr Kommandant Michaels, stranded him with the usual coterie of characters whose comedic value diminished rapidly with each repeat performance (they even ran his hysterically miffed Alex Trebek into the ground). As with many of the show’s best performers nowadays (thanks to new contract stipulations), Ferrell’s eventual exit felt a year or two overdue, but any worries that he’d left it all out on the Studio 8H soundstage were kneed in the sensitive places with last year’s OLD SCHOOL, which, incidentally, just racked up an impressive first week sales take on DVD. As “Frank the Tank”, Ferrell was a scene-stealing master, but I’ve already serviced him generously for that performance, with zero recompense, here. Time to move on.
After all, Ferrell certainly has, to bigger and more widely accessible effect in ELF. (For those counting, that was 655 words until I got around to mentioning the movie I’m supposedly reviewing, but this is AICN, and nothin’ gets done quickly around here.) I’m well aware that the once-favorable buzz on this film, thanks in no small part to Moriarty’s smashing set report here, has nose-dived thanks to the ho-hum teaser currently attached to FINDING NEMO, but it’s time to quit yer bitchin’. The promising pitch – orphaned baby accidentally hitches a ride in Santa’s bag and grows up to be Will Ferrell – has been exploited to frequently raucous effect without resorting to raunch. Favreau and his co-writers, David Berenbaum and Scot Armstrong, are smart enough to realize that Farrell roaming the streets of Manhattan as an indefatigably cheerful man-elf is a one-size-fits-all concept, so they’ve mostly scuttled the scatological humor and concentrated on their star’s childlike appeal.
The movie begins, as all movies should, with a narration from Bob Newhart as the sad, fatherless Poppa Elf, who raised the oversized Buddy (Farrell) from infancy to manhood. Elves, we learn, are naturals at toy assemblage because of their unique size and exceptional work ethic. But, as Buddy reaches adulthood, his productivity begins to dip below the levels maintained by his fellow elves, forcing Poppa and Santa to break the news to him that not only were his parents human, his mother has since passed and his father (James Caan) is now a heartless, workaholic publishing executive who’s managed to land himself on the “naughty” list. Buddy is shocked, but, having been brought up by the elf code that values Christmas cheer above all else, he takes this setback in stride and heads off by foot to the Big Apple to reunite with the father he’s never known.
As soon as Buddy emerges from Lincoln Tunnel, ELF indulges in some conventional fish-out-of-water shenanigans before landing him at Gimble’s Department Store (a nice nod to another holiday classic) where he is mistaken as one of the seasonal employees by a harried store manager (Faizon Love), and put to work as one of Santa’s elves alongside the very cute Zooey Deschanel, who plays an aspiring singer with a debilitating lack of self-confidence. Buddy also tries to visit his curmudgeonly father, but his dad understandably wants nothing to do with a disturbed middle-aged man in an elf suit. Thus, Buddy is forced to live at the department store, where he throws himself into his work with that innate elf love for Christmas. But this, too, goes bad when an outraged Buddy lands in jail after tangling with a department store Santa (Howard Stern regular, and perennial cutting room floor clutter, Artie Lang) for being a fraud (“You sit on a throne of lies,” impugns the indignant Buddy.)
It’s Buddy’s father, still haunted by his visit, who bails him out of jail. After a DNA test cancels out any doubt as to Buddy’s lineage, his father has no moral choice but to take the oddball in, which is complicated since he already has a wife (Mary Steenburgen) and a young son (Daniel Tay). Though there’s some initial awkwardness and resentment, Buddy eventually wins them all over, but there’s still the question of how this socially inept man-elf will fit into society (Buddy’s dad brings him to work, only to consign him to the dreary building mailroom). And, if that’s not enough, there’s the problem of flagging Christmas Spirit, the fuel on which Santa’s magical sleigh runs.
If there was any lingering doubt as to whether Ferrell’s shtick could sustain an entire comedy, consider it erased. Though the pace flags a bit in all the expected spots (this was a test screening, after all), Ferrell effortlessly kicks the film back to life before it becomes problematic. And what’s wonderful about his work here is that he doesn’t have to resort to those trademark volcanic explosions to do it. Oftentimes, he does it on the fly with an endearingly silly passing observation like, “I saw a dog today. That was good.” That gift for underplaying the moment is going to take him much further as a comedic lead than wrestling with an angry raccoon. It’s like watching Bill Murray in MEATBALLS, where the wild chants of “It just doesn’t matter” are leavened by quiet moments like his hushed pep talk to Fink before the hot dog eating contest. Though the former is more quotable, it’s the latter bit that you savor on repeat viewings.
With the lunatic RON BURGANDY and the obligatory OLD SCHOOL sequel lined-up, Will Ferrell seems poised to make the leap from goofy cohort to comedy superstar. Looking around at the many lesser SNL alums who have parlayed their minimal charms, or friendships with Adam Sandler, into unlikely stardom, he couldn’t be more deserving. And it’ll be gratifying to watch Ferrell unbuckle his belt and whip these jokers off the shed.
Faithfully submitted,
Mr. Beaks
Awesome, man. Nice work. Can’t wait to see it.
"Moriarty" out.
