Review: Everything Must Go

Somewhat loserish Will Ferrell gets fired from his 16 year job as Regional VP of Sales, and his wife leaves him all on the same day. This inspires some serious alcoholic consumption and slashing his boss’ tires and leaving the knife stuck in the tire, which ruins much chance of being rehired as well. Oh, and the wife also dumps all of his shit on their front lawn and changes all the locks. And his car gets repossessed too. Apparently he got on quite a bender on some work-related excursion to Denver recently, that resulted in disgrace that we only gradually learn the details of. So what’s a loserish guy played by Will Ferrell bordering on depression going to do when he’s locked out of his house? Grab some beer, pull up a chair and just sit and drink himself into a coma, that’s what. Not even being sprayed by the timed sprinkler system, nor a visit from the cops (including his AA sponsor, played by Michael Pena) is enough to convince Ferrell to move off his lawn, let alone move on with his life. Pena eventually gives Ferrell a few days to sell his belongings to get enough cash to move, and hopefully sort his life out.

C.J. Wallace (son of some apparently big and notorious guy) plays a somewhat unsupervised/lonely kid in the neighbourhood who strikes up a friendship with Ferrell, and helps him sell his stuff in exchange for baseball lessons (which the audience knows are more than just baseball lessons to the kid). Stephen Root plays Ferrell’s neighbour who seems to take delight in the downturn in his life. Rebecca Hall plays a pregnant and newly arrived neighbour who tries to be friendly with the frequently drunk Ferrell. Her husband hasn’t arrived yet, due to his job, similar to Ferrell’s previous job. Laura Dern plays a woman Ferrell had a thing for in high school, who shows him more kindness now than he probably deserves (For starters, who the hell looks up a woman he barely even knew back in high school and hangs around for dinner? Awkward much?).

This drama (with occasional moments of humour) from writer-director Dan Rush doesn’t do anything new, but good performances keep it afloat. It won’t be for everyone, as it’s all a bit miserable, really. Not everyone finds a sad sack terribly interesting, but I found it somewhat appealing in a sad, almost pathetic kind of way. Ferrell gives one of his very best (and easily his most subtle) turns and goes a long way to making his rather douchy character more likeable than he might’ve been in other hands. In fact, you could argue that his character here is the logical dramatic equivalent of the standard buffoon, arrested development persona Ferrell is comedically famous for. Rebecca Hall (despite a pretty unconvincing American accent) and Laura Dern are both immensely appealing here. In fact, I haven’t liked Dern this much since “Mask”. Then again, I’ve only ever liked her in “Mask” and now this. Hall, meanwhile, is just a bee’s dick away from being a star if you ask me, she’s so radiant on screen. She’s one to watch, I reckon. C.J. Wallace is also excellent as the young boy whom Ferrell recruits to help him sell his stuff, and kinda becomes a father figure to.

 

Based on a Raymond Carver short story, it’s a slight, but enjoyable film, one that would’ve been even better if it actually had an ending to speak of. Unfortunately, the seemingly necessary romantic element that would provide a rewarding ending isn’t really on the cards here. I kinda understood that, but still felt a bit letdown in the end. Surely Laura Dern’s character could’ve popped up again towards the end? I also didn’t much appreciate the character assassination handed out to Pena. It was predictable, of course, but I just didn’t like it. Still, this one’s got some fine elements to it, especially if you want to see Ferrell do some real acting for the first time since the excellent “Stranger Than Fiction” (at least from what I’ve seen).

A pretty solid debut for Rush, especially since he’s expanded (relatively successfully) a short story that apparently only runs four pages!

Rating: B-