Talladega Nights just isn't funny enough

Rating: 5/10 (7 August 2006)

Talladega Nights reviewed by Sam Osborn
rating: 2 out of 4
Talladega Nights is for all intensive purposes the sequel to Anchorman. Obviously, the two films don't share similarities in the story department, but each hand Will Ferrell a blank check to do absolutely whatever he chooses to do. They might as well each be called The Will Ferrell Movies Part I and II. There's nothing wrong with this formula as Mr. Ferrell has time and again proved his charm and comic worth. I don't mind if he parades about my theatre screen for ninety minutes because whatever he says, let's admit it, will make us laugh. No, for all the Ferrell exploitation, he's not the film's fault. Plainly and without any critical pretension, Talladega Nights just isn't funny enough. The script gets lost on its way to funny and tries too many back-alleys and shortcuts to get there. It ends up stone dead on the road, engine failed and silent, with only a handful of misused miles under its belt.
As Anchorman spoofed the news media corporations and told the story of its outrageous, unexplainable title character, Talladega Nights tries to do the same for the world of NASCAR and another title character, Ricky Bobby (Will Ferrell). Ever since he was birthed in the back of a hotrod at ninety-five miles per hour, Ricky Bobby has wanted to go fast. It's an ambition that carries him to adulthood as he works the pit stop crew for a slacking NASCAR racer. When the racer walks away from the track halfway through the Talladega Competition, Ricky is called upon as replacement. Summoning the courage from a well of deep ambition and frighteningly shallow intelligence he takes the car to the finish line in an amazing show of speed and natural racing talent. Soon he's the face of the Talladega Speedway and racing alongside his best friend, Cal Noughton Jr. (John C. Reilly), under the support of a volley of sponsors. It all comes crumbling down, however, when Formula 1 racer, Jean Girard (Sacha Baron Cohen), ends his winning streak and puts Bobby in the hospital after a horrific crash. With his wife gone and his fortune squandered, Bobby must climb back to greatness from the lowly life of a bicycle-riding pizza delivery boy.
Anchorman succeeded in that its spoofs were focused mostly on the Ron Burgundy character. His portrait drew enough satire from the news agency corporations that it didn't need to throw in any extra jabs. Talladega Nights isn't as satisfied with the humor extracted from Ricky Bobby, and tries generating laughs from every southern stereotype racing culture has to offer. The stereotypes, although abundant, don't always mesh to form consistencies. The film wanders off into derogatory homophobia, then to white trash child-rearing, and back around again to the general consensus that southerners are plainly dumb. All of it's given and taken with good humor and no semblance of offense, but often the generalized jokes fall heavily flat and without a shake of laughter from the audience. The flailing humor also often latches onto characters and prevents us from finally connecting with them when sentimentality is offered and sympathy wanted. So when Ricky Bobby goes fast again and wins his life back, it's nothing more than a technicality that draws out the conclusion.
But discussing the mechanics of the comedy genre doesn't quite explain the failure of Talladega Nights. The film simply isn't funny enough. When we should be convulsing with laughter, we're checking our watches. Will Ferrell can jump and scream and run around all he likes (and he does), but the screenplay just doesn't make the cut. I wanted to be red in the face and sore in the abdomen when I left the theatre, but instead I was checking the date on the bathroom's calendar, hoping that the upcoming Borat will fill in the gap Ricky Bobby has left.
Copyright ©2006 Sam Osborn. All rights reserved.