Life often can become routinized. The same route to work; the same coffee at Starbucks; the same ham sandwich; the same TV shows; even the same pew at church! Harold Crick (Will Ferrell), the main character in Marc Forster’s wonderfully droll movie, Stranger than Fiction, is simply an extreme example of the lives of many of us. Here is a movie to watch and then ask your spouse or friend, is this true of me/us?
For Harold, everything has been reduced to a mathematical formula in his life. He counts the number of strokes that he brushes his teeth each morning and the number of steps he walks to the bus stop. His constant companion is his watch helping him to compulsively track the minutes he spends at lunch and on coffee breaks. He works as an auditor for the Internal Revenue Service. Except for his friend Dave at work, Harold speaks to few people. He is alone.
Harold is alone, that is, until he begins to hear a woman’s voice speaking in his head, or rather, narrating back to him his own life. The narrator turns out to be Kay Eiffel (a superb Emma Thompson), an accomplished, though reclusive, mystery writer with eight novels to her credit. Her latest, “Death and Taxes” has remained unfinished for a decade because she can not figure out an appropriate way to kill off her main character; something that has become a trademark in each of her other stories.
Desperately trying to overcome her writer’s block, she is the perfect complement to Harold’s neurosis. She balances on the edge of her desk and tries to imagine jumping off a roof. She sits in the rain with Penny Escher (Queen Latifah), her personal assistant, watching cars passing over a bridge and imagining an accident.
The movie goes back and forth between the stories of these two lonely, neurotic people. But actually, it is only one story, for the main character in Eiffel’s story is none other than Harold Crick. At first the voice in his head is simply a nuisance. But then he hears the woman say, “Little did he know, it would lead to his immanent death.” Such foreshadowing would grab anyone’s attention! The basic tension in the movie is thus clearly drawn: Is the story Kay’s or Harold’s? Who is really in control? Is the story character driven, or is it rooted in the point of view of the narrator? Is Harold a puppet, or is he free to act? Harold is desperate to know, and Kay is paralyzed to act.
Harold seeks the advice of a psychiatrist (Linda Hunt) who diagnoses him as schizophrenic. He challenges her diagnosis by asking, “But what if I’m part of a story, a narrative?” to which she responds facetiously, “I don’t know… I’d send you to someone who knows literature.” So, Harold lands at the door of Professor Jules Hilbert (Dustin Hoffman), an expert in literary theory. Hilbert gives Harold a test to narrow down the genres and archetypes of his story, and then suggests that he try to figure out whether his life is a tragedy or a comedy. The exchanges between Harold and the professor are filled with clever, understated humor. I laughed and groaned as my teaching profession was skewered. It was a delight.
And so the movie’s set-up is complete. On one level, it will be a story about the artistic process. Following up on his wonderful exploration of the imagination in Finding Neverland, a fictional account of J. M. Barrie, the creator of Peter Pan, director Marc Forster asks what happens when an artist comes to care about his creation so much that his affection begins to color the shape of his imaginative creation? Is there a necessary shape to a story, a narrative arch that even the creator must follow? Or do a character’s actions and attitudes invite the plot to develop in surprising ways? Such questions are not simply pedantic and abstract – to be left in the literature classroom. Rather, they also have to do with our own stories. Are our personal stories defined as “comedies” or “tragedies” apart from our own efforts, or do we give shape to our destinies? Can it be both? The movie’s literary conceit turns out to be the context for reflection on the shape of our own lives.
The movie is not only about the artistic process, however. It is also about love – about the compelling power of a new affection. As part of his job, Harold audits Ana Pascal (Maggie Gyllenhaal), a Harvard Law School drop-out turned baker. Even as they spar, the chemistry between the Harold and Ana is apparent. And when Harold finally eats one of Ana’s chocolate chip cookies, the sensuality of the moment is palpable. We watch as Harold realizes that life is not work and work is not life. Harold gives Ana an assortment of “flours” (pun intended); he asks her out on a date and plays her the one two-chord song he has learned on his guitar. Somehow schedules no longer matter and his watch no longer controls.
It should be clear that this Will Ferrell movie is a far cry from his portrayal of an elf (Elf), a race car driver (Talladaga Nights), or an ice dancer (Blades of Glory). Perhaps this is why the film was largely ignored at the box office when it first came out. Those expecting another movie with the broad, physical, sophomoric humor of Farrell that was honed on “Saturday Night Live” either stayed away (if that was not their style of entertainment) or came and were disappointed (if SNL was their kind of humor). But in the five years it has been out, Stranger Than Fiction has attracted a well-deserved fan club. And it is deserved.
The movie abounds in humor, but it is the kind that is understated and ironic (think of Bill Murray in Lost in Translation, Jim Carrey in The Truman Show, or Adam Sandler in Punch Drunk Love), also serving a larger narrative purpose. Intelligent, poignant, heartfelt, real – this imaginative fable invites our personal introspection. We will all die – that is a given. The question is rather, how should we live? This is the question Harold Crick must face, and it is our question as well.
Stranger than Fiction will remind many of the book of Ecclesiastes. Wisdom (Professor Hilbert) is vain; so too is work (Harold Crick). Much that happens seems random (the wrecking ball that demolishes Harold’s apartment). But life’s mystery is not solved by better programming. Rather, two are better than one, and life is a gift to be savored – like freshly baked cookies with a glass of milk.
