Anchorman: The Legend Of Ron Burgundy

By James C. Hess

I said it before, I say it again, because it bears repeating: Good humor is hard work, successful humor is an almost impossible task. Nowadays, more so than ever before. Not only does one have to make the audience laugh but they have to be careful not to offend.

And is that not the point of humor, at its most basic: To offend, by way of whimsical and perverted premises otherwise known as ridicule? So how to succeed, with this burden at hand?

Oh, what a task lies before us, then.

I don't believe there are many good humorists about these days because, well, I don't believe a lot of people know how to laugh, and, more importantly, I don't believe a lot of people know how to make others laugh. Which brings me to those who attempt such tasks: They are to applauded and respected for their intentions. Especially those intentions that fail when they should succeed.

Consider as proof "Anchorman: The Legend Of Ron Burgundy". Satire, at its finest, in the tradition of "This Is Spinal Tap", "Waiting For Guffman", "A Mighty Wind", "Best Of Show".

Superficially, that is. "Anchorman: The Legend Of Ron Burgundy" is satire as satire should be, given it stays close to the source material used for inspiration: The news media. But go beneath the surface, look in the corners, step past the edge of the frame's reality, and find that this is not satire as satire should be. It is, in fact, mean-spirited partisan political propaganda. (And if you want that sort of thing may I suggest you get into the ever-diminshing line for Michael Moore's latest jeremiad.)

"Anchorman: The Legend Of Ron Burgundy" fails because it desires and perspires to be more than just funny. Why it is compelled to be more than funny is unclear, and unfortunate. I wanted to like it instead of loathing it, as I did.

Consider: When it stays close to the truth and fact of the news media it is funny and hilarious: When the news director goes silly and gaa-gaa over stories about warm and fuzzy animals at the zoo you know this to be real; when the promotions on television and advertisements go to make the 'team' to look like a happy family, you know you know this. But the rival news teams attempt what is a well-dressed take on gladiators (I know: White leisure suits and platform shoes?) you howl with disappointment and disbelief.

"Anchorman: The Legend Of Ron Burgundy" is, of course, about Ron Burgundy (Will Ferrell), a legend in his own mind, a would-be legendary news anchor for a local television station in San Diego in the early 1970s, when drug use and wild sex were among the norm. Not surprisingly, Ron has willingly bought into his own legend, believes the press about himself, and informs a young, blonde woman at a pool party that he is a man's man: He has a leather couch, leather-bound books (none of which he apparently ever read), and his apartment reeks of man. Or is that mahogany? It doesn't really make a difference, nor does it matter, because all of this chattel goes to a point that the movie has sufficient and proper fun with: If you think you know who Ron Burgundy is based on, well, you probably do.

Here's the thing: Instead of just doing a send-up as "Spinal Tap" once did, "Anchorman" tends to take itself seriously, too seriously, and, consequently fails.

Instead of, for example, making light of the fact Ron will read anything entered into his prompter, we are led to believe his brain actually works, that it actually processes what it is he reads on that magical screen before him.

But setting aside my disdain and disappointment. A few words on the story: As "Anchorman" opens Ron Burgundy faces a crisis of the worst kind for an anchorman: Ed Harke (Fred Willard), the station's news director, wants to add diversity to the newsroom by hiring a woman to be part of the team.

Wait! Make that: WOMAN.

And she is to be Ron Burgundy's co-anchor. Dear Lord! What is the world coming to? It isn't right! It isn't natural!

Or is it?

To complicate matters she is named Veronica Corningtstone (Christina Applegate), and, oh, by the way: Remember that woman Ron Burgundy tried to impress and pick up with the line about his apartment and lifestyle? The exact and same woman.

Now this particular storyline could have been funny and enjoyable, but almost from the outset it was melodramatic--and not in a good way, and heavy-handed.

You see now, don't you, where I am going with this? Unfortunately. But I must point out there are one or two redeeming moments in the form of the supporting cast: Champ Kind (David Koechner), Brick Tamland (Stevn Carell), and Brian Fantana (Paul Rudd). If ever there were evidence of how stupid men can be in numbers, this group is it. They don't like women for a reason: They fear them. One of the pack intones how it was he once read that a woman's period attracks bears. You have to laugh at that. These guys? Read? As to odors and smells, the only thing these guys can understand about such matters is: More is better: Ron Burgundy bathes in a high-powered scent and only manages to get a response not from a woman, but his gang, that it reminds them of the time the racoon got stuck in the copier.

"Anchorman: The Legend Of Ron Burgundy" could have been funny, enjoyable. But it wasn't, sadly. And its constant need to make political side-remarks only served to hurt it, not help it.

Satire, as Will Ferrell knows, is about making fun of people, places, and things. Satire, as Ferrell should know, is not about making statements. That he chose to do so makes a statement about him: With this movie he may very well have ended his big-screen career.

About the Author:

James C. Hess graduated from the University of Colorado at Boulder, where he earned a Bachelor's Degree in English Literature, with an emphasis on Editorial Journalism and Film Studies.

Hess currently makes his home along the Front Range of the Colorado Rockies.

Article courtesy of http://www.suite101.com.