I have been to a grand total of four Nascar races in my lifetime, and all of them have so closely followed the pattern of circle fast, crash, circle slow, and repeat, that the experiences have all run together. The noise is prohibitively loud and crashes are far too rare and not nearly spectacular enough, meaning that the whole reason we are there is the hope that someone will get hurt. The urge is so great that pointing and gasping at nothing will still attract ten thousand faces hoping to see some sparks. It is a destructive atmosphere, and, for millions, it is a lifestyle.
Pitched and picked up in six words, "Will Ferrell as a Nascar driver," Talladega Nights sends up this lifestyle and then some with jokes meant to be satire but that are sometimes unfortunately realistic. I would wager that at some point in Nascar history a driver has obliged to signing a baby's forehead at the request of its mother, as Ferrell does. For those who live outside of Nascar's influence, these jokes ring true due to sheer irony, but any others may find humor in how similar the movie is to the real thing. And how perfect is the name Ricky Bobby for a Nascar driver?
As Bobby, Will Ferrell has perfected his role as the quintessential millionaire driver. His southern accent is flawless, but to be fair it is not that hard to replicate anyway. Beyond his speech, though, is what really makes him perfect for the role. He has the look and the feel of a walking billboard that advertises itself just as much as its sponsors. He exudes arrogance and self-aggrandizement towards everyone he knows, even his dimwitted friend Cal (John Rielly), who will not let Ricky's flair for competition suppress his naturally amicable personality. Even when he unintentionally betrays Ricky, although I will not say how, he cannot grasp the concept of losing his best friend.
Opposing both teammates is French flamer Jean Girard, played superbly by Sacha Baron Cohen of Da Ali G Show. On HBO he has a flair for every one of his many characters, so naturally playing two stereotypes at once is no problem for him. He speaks his lines with a sincerity that rings so true that we laugh at how serious he sounds, such as when he tries cajole Ricky into kissing him with just a touch of desperation in his voice. Whether or not Ricky obliges, I shall not say.
Most of the humor from any source other than Ferrell or Girard does not deserve a second look. The jokes are interchangeable and juvenile profanity that get tired after Ricky's two sons, Walker and Texas Ranger (pun totally intended), go on a rant about their grandfather, which comes across as more pejorative than funny. Specific jokes of this sort, like some from the trailer, are not in the film, such as when Ferrell absent-mindedly flips a bike onto his lawn. The film looks like it was edited in less than a week, though, mainly because it has a simple layout for these jokes: Funny part, plot element, repeat. Sounds like a Nascar race in itself.
Those concerned that all the humor was lost to the trailer, which is one of the most persuasive in years, will not be disappointed. The biggest laugh is always yet to come, and the chaos always stops just before it gets awkward. Ferrell, of course, must find a way to run around half-naked, a recurring motif for many of his films, most notably Old School, but do not let his movie give you the wrong idea about Nascar; no one will ever have this much fun at a race.
Pitched and picked up in six words, "Will Ferrell as a Nascar driver," Talladega Nights sends up this lifestyle and then some with jokes meant to be satire but that are sometimes unfortunately realistic. I would wager that at some point in Nascar history a driver has obliged to signing a baby's forehead at the request of its mother, as Ferrell does. For those who live outside of Nascar's influence, these jokes ring true due to sheer irony, but any others may find humor in how similar the movie is to the real thing. And how perfect is the name Ricky Bobby for a Nascar driver?
As Bobby, Will Ferrell has perfected his role as the quintessential millionaire driver. His southern accent is flawless, but to be fair it is not that hard to replicate anyway. Beyond his speech, though, is what really makes him perfect for the role. He has the look and the feel of a walking billboard that advertises itself just as much as its sponsors. He exudes arrogance and self-aggrandizement towards everyone he knows, even his dimwitted friend Cal (John Rielly), who will not let Ricky's flair for competition suppress his naturally amicable personality. Even when he unintentionally betrays Ricky, although I will not say how, he cannot grasp the concept of losing his best friend.
Opposing both teammates is French flamer Jean Girard, played superbly by Sacha Baron Cohen of Da Ali G Show. On HBO he has a flair for every one of his many characters, so naturally playing two stereotypes at once is no problem for him. He speaks his lines with a sincerity that rings so true that we laugh at how serious he sounds, such as when he tries cajole Ricky into kissing him with just a touch of desperation in his voice. Whether or not Ricky obliges, I shall not say.
Most of the humor from any source other than Ferrell or Girard does not deserve a second look. The jokes are interchangeable and juvenile profanity that get tired after Ricky's two sons, Walker and Texas Ranger (pun totally intended), go on a rant about their grandfather, which comes across as more pejorative than funny. Specific jokes of this sort, like some from the trailer, are not in the film, such as when Ferrell absent-mindedly flips a bike onto his lawn. The film looks like it was edited in less than a week, though, mainly because it has a simple layout for these jokes: Funny part, plot element, repeat. Sounds like a Nascar race in itself.
Those concerned that all the humor was lost to the trailer, which is one of the most persuasive in years, will not be disappointed. The biggest laugh is always yet to come, and the chaos always stops just before it gets awkward. Ferrell, of course, must find a way to run around half-naked, a recurring motif for many of his films, most notably Old School, but do not let his movie give you the wrong idea about Nascar; no one will ever have this much fun at a race.