Starring Will Ferrell, Dustin Hoffman, Emma Thompson, Maggie Gyllenhall
Directed by Marc Forster
Rated PG-13
2 Pulses

I realize I’ve been spoiled lately with the high quality of movies currently out in theaters (The Departed, Borat), but I truly expected so much more from Director Marc Forster’s Stranger than Fiction.

First, the concept is pretty cool: Harold Crick (Ferrell) is your average hard-working American, a lonely man who begins to hear a voice narrating his mundane daily activities only to discover he’s the subject of a work of fiction by writer Karen Effiel (Thompson).

Second, the cast is outstanding. Though I’ve never been much of a Ferrell fan, he manages to surprise me every now and again with a subdued and poignant performance, like in last year’s Melinda and Melinda. Emma Thompson has an amazing list of credits to her name and she is one of the best performers of her generation, in or out of period costume. With dependable Hoffman and rising star Gyllenhall rounding out the cast, I hoped I was in for a treat.

Instead, I found myself bored to tears. The movie is way too touchy-feely, almost preachy in its subject matter that basically boils down to this: Don’t sweat the small stuff and take pleasure in the little things.

Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don’t need a message on the big screen?these are my entertainment dollars, people. Blow stuff up, make me laugh, make me cry, but please don’t coax me into the theater to tell me the world is a beautiful place. My money’s worth more than what I can see outside my windows.

It’s a tragic moment when you find yourself begging for the frantic frat boy antics of Will Ferrell’s past and that’s just where this movie led me.