Stranger Than Fiction vs As Good As It Gets

Will Farrell seems like a nice guy, don’t you think? I don’t mean he seems cordial, or reasonable, or even friendly. He actually seems like he might be a good guy, like you could hang out with him and have a beer, or maybe watch Heroes. I love Eternal Sunshine and The Truman Show, but Jim Carrey doesn’t strike me as anyone I care to spend much time with. And so even though Stranger than Fiction draws upon Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and The Truman Show, and doesn’t quite measure up to either of those films, I found myself enjoying it nearly as much, because Will Farrell is such a pleasant, open, funny actor, and, I’m assuming, person.

In Stranger than Fiction, Farrell is Harold Crick, an IRS auditor who figures out, pretty quickly actually, that he’s the main character of a book. He’s been going about his daily routine for years, down to the number of toothbrush strokes per tooth, and the seconds it takes to tie a single Windsor knot. But recently, something’s changed: Harold’s life is being narrated. The steps to work he counts, the way he carries his apple, his relationship to his watch, the tedium of his job are all accounted for by a voice in his head. We’ve already assumed Harold must be obsessive-compulsive, or possibly some sort of savant with numbers, although his behavior doesn’t seem to hinder his life in any way, and he’s got enough of a personality that his coworkers like him. So, when the narrator starts, I figured he might also be schizophrenic, even though I’d seen the trailer for the film, and the narration is obviously performed by Emma Thompson. Hey, I saw the trailer for Phenomenon too; didn’t stop Brain Tumor from making a surprise appearance there at the end.

From the beginning, we know that Harold is a character of some sort, even if it’s just a stylized movie character. His apartment is necessities-only, he wears practically the same thing every day, and the offices he works in look like they were designed by Stanley Kubrick. The narration scares him at first, and he assumes everyone else can hear it. The narration is third-person, however, so Harold knows the thoughts aren’t his, and that they must belong to a narrator, and narrators are in books, so he’s a character in a book. I know; it’s a little pat. Harold visits a literature professor (Dustin Hoffman), who questions Harold’s sanity only briefly; there’s nothing a literature professor loves more than someone with actual questions about literature, so he plays along. The professor makes a list of characteristics of figures from classic literature, as well as one of female authors, and together they try and figure out just who might be writing Harold’s life.

Simultaneously, an author, also speaking in the voice of Emma Thompson, is suffering from writer’s block. She’s Kay Eiffel, a mystery novelist who specializes in killing her main character. Her newest main character, of course, is Harold Crick, and she could finish her novel if she could just decide on how Harold should die. To help her with the process, Kay’s publisher has sent over a personal assistant played by Queen Latifah, who isn’t in the mood for any bullshit from Kay.

So, will Harold figure out who his author is in time to save his own life? Will Kay figure out how to kill Harold before Queen Latifah smacks that smug look off her face? Will Harold quit his downer job and find love with blue collar badass baker Maggie Gyllenhaal? Stranger than Fiction hardly seems like enough movie to answer these questions, but it manages to, in a quiet, moving, simple way.

Stranger than Fiction was directed by Marc Forster, with different pacing and visual cues than he’s brought to his previous movies. Throughout Stranger than Fiction, we get the weights, measures, times and dimensions of everything Harold sees. At one point, he estimates the volume of soap in a dispenser, minus what is about to be used, then has to adjust when no soap is used. The film is briskly edited (and lovingly scored. What a nice song soundtrack we have here, with no mix-tape randomness or b-side throwaways), and features great acting all around. Will Farrell makes a great everyman, but as Harold opens up to his own mortality, he shows us colors we’ve not seen before. Harold closing his eyes and quietly serenading his girlfriend with a lullaby-level version of his favorite punk song is a scene I’ll be watching for years. Maggie Gylennhaal inches ever closer to being my one true movie girlfriend with this movie. She has a role that has Drew Barrymore written all over it, and ignores this fact. We think we’ve seen this wild-child cookie-baker in a dozen other movies. We haven’t. As Kay, Emma Thompson rocks, as she so often does, with small gestures. Kay is infuriating, has disgusting habits, is rude, lazy, and possibly not even that good of a writer. Thompson is so good, and is so well-paired with Latifah, that I would like to have seen a whole movie about them.

So, Stranger than Fiction isn’t quite the movie event that The Truman Show and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind were. So. It also doesn’t come with the same grave sense of humanity’s search for meaning that those movies were packing around. Harold Crick isn’t living an artificial life while the globe watches, and he isn’t trying to salvage the last breaths of his true love’s memories. He’s just a guy teaching himself guitar while the cookies cool. At one point, Kay wonders if Harold Crick might be the kind of guy you want to keep alive. I think he is.

As Good as it Gets is another movie about a cranky, insufferable writer; an obsessive compulsive; a down-to-earth blue collar woman; and how, if at all, they can get a man to really live before it’s all over.

When As Good as it Gets was first released, I couldn’t say enough about it. I instantly declared it my favorite movie of the year, and forced everyone I knew to watch it. Almost a decade has gone by, and I still think it’s a fine movie, but I wish I could see it again with the eyes I brought to Stranger than Fiction. I knew Stranger than Fiction sounded a bit like some other movies I had liked, and I gave myself permission to not hold it to any standard, to just enjoy it as it unfolded on its own. As Good as it Gets portrays a fairly unique trio of friends, played by a trio of actors in top form.

Jack Nicholson is one of only two actors (Bill Murray being the other) that I can handle being this big of an asshole. Jack’s Melvin, like Emma Thompson’s Kay, is virtually unlikable, full of insults and annoying habits. Not only that, but he’s also the obsessive-compulsive in the movie. Yikes. Eventually, Melvin’s heart is warmed and opened by a squad of movie heart-warmers: a puppy, a child, a smart-ass waitress and a gay guy. Throw in a disease (check!) and a convertible road-trip full of confessions and bonding (check!), and you’ve got the makings for the most clichéd movie ever. But it works. Helen Hunt is the smart-ass waitress, but she’s genuine and funny, and doesn’t rely on her character’s constant quips and speeches to carry her performance. Greg Kinear is good too, as the artist across the hall from Melvin. That he triumphs in a role that requires him to get beaten up by Skeet Ulrich is proof of his talents.

And so, for those of you who knew me when As Good as it Gets came out, I apologize for being such a bully. I still think it’s a great movie, and one that you might want to rent after watching Stranger than Fiction. The newer movie, however, with its lowered expectations, has a nice guy that doesn’t have to be turned nice. He already is a nice guy, and once he learns guitar and loosens his tie, you’ll see what’s been there all along. Near the end of As Good as it Gets, Melvin tells Helen Hunt’s character, “You make me want to be a better man,” like it’s some kind of favor he’s doing her. Well, don’t just sit there, Melvin, put a guitar strap over that chip on your shoulder and get to work.

Stranger than Fiction: A-
As Good as it Gets: B