It’s impressive that the screenplay for the dramatic comedy (dramedy), Stranger Than Fiction (2006), was penned by Zach Helm at the age of 30. It would be a lot more impressive, however, if the story were more original. Concerning an IRS agent named Harold Crick (a generally subdued Will Ferrell) who comes to realize he is a work of fiction, the meat and bones of the narrative were already hashed out by Nobel prizewinning playwright, Luigi Pirandello, whose Six Characters in Search of an Author (1921) laid the blueprint for metafictional stories where characters take on a life of their own, free of their author’s authority. The highly philosophical/literary conceit would be picked up by many authors such as the Irishman, Flann O’Brien, and Italian Italo Calvino, and has already been the subject of two Woody Allen films: Deconstructing Harry (1997) and the brilliant The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985).

In his treatment of the character loosed upon the world theme, Helm attempts to strike a fair balance between comic and quasi-tragic themes, contrasting the absurdity of the situation with the crisis of the impending death of the character, who knows he is to be killed off at the end of the novel of which he is the doomed protagonist. But somehow, neither comic nor serious strands of the story come to the fore, and we hover in a mild concoction of slightly off-beat romantic comedy. Other ingredients (an impressive visual deign called G.U.I., or Graphic User’s Interface, is superimposed over Harold’s world, suggesting his analytic thought patterns and obsessive compulsive counting) have their own power, but somehow don’t combine to make a fully cohering narrative, nor an emotionally gripping one.

Other problems center around pacing. In the similar and quite brilliant The Truman Show (1998), it takes until at least midway through for the protagonist Truman (Jim Carrey) to realize his life is an experiment, and to arrive at a definitive crisis. In this case, we are merely 20 minutes in before Harold is screaming at his interior narrator (the fictional author, Kay Eiffel, whose voice he can intermittently hear), and begging the heavens for reprieve.

There is, though, a very clever strand to this familiar plot: Harold decides to consult an English professor (Dustin Hoffman, convincing as a kindly intellectual) to see whether the professor can deduce who the author is. Scenes involving that deft detective work are some of the strongest in the film, and are both funny and smart. Another problem arises via this channel, though. Hoffman’s professor is drunk with praise for the literary genius for Harold’s author (played by a disdainful, chain-smoking, hermetic, death-obsessed Emma Thompson), but from the turgid snippets of narration we get, there is no basis whatsoever for this lionization. It’s always a danger when an author/screenwriter more or tells us that his fictional artist is a genius: now he has to have the genius himself to create the works his character might make. Given what we learn of Kay Eiffel, it is implausible that anyone would be interested in her books (and she also appears to be stuck in a serious rut, repeating the same story novel to novel of ignominiously expunged anonymous workers).

Again, the insertion of a romantic love-object for Harold, in the guise of Ana, a free-spirited baker (played by charming Maggie Gyllenhaal), is hit and miss. On the positive side, the opposites-attract chemistry of this mismatched pair is effective, and it is sweet to watch as Ferrell’s buttoned-up petty-functionary begins to live life a little more to the full (finding the guitar the speaks to him, sampling one of Ana’s cookies). But the figure of Ana poses a continuity problem: she seems to be a creation (like Harold) of Kay Eiffel, yet she possesses none of the self-awareness or crises that Harold does, and effectively blends into the “real world” tableau (in which, for example, the professor exists). She hovers in a weird border between the book’s interior reality and that in which the author lives, making her origins unclear. I understand this is a magical fiction, but even in such cases (e.g. The Purple Rose of Cairo) logical categories of “real” and “fictional” characters can be kept intact. Here, I found the premise sloppy and incompletely conceived.

In short, special points for a very interesting ensemble (which includes the rarely seen Tom Hulce, as well as Kristin Chenoweth and Queen Latifah), and the clever use of G.U.I. techniques to give material presence to Harold’s interior obsessions. A couple of scattered points for some able comic situations. Major deductions for lack of originality, and for implausibility (within the confines of the magical premise), inconsistency of vision, pacing, and an overall lack of character depth. Definitely a wait-for-cable type of movie, if you ask me. However, if you’re into this sort of film (e.g. you love anything by writer Charlie Kaufman, even his lamer fare) rent or buy the DVD, since the extra features are copious, and in the case of the G.U.I. details, cool.

3.1415 stars out of 5

Final note: If Harold Crick looked at the names of the actors who play him and his love interest, he would denote a single pair of double letters in each first name, and two pairs in the second: Will Ferrell and Maggie Gyllenhaal.


Recommended:
No

Viewing Format: DVD