Stranger than Fiction.

In the latest Will Ferrell vehicle, Stranger than Fiction, life doesn’t imitate art as much as it is dictated by it. The premise, from the brain of newcomer Zach Helm, is a clever one: Harold Crick (played convincingly by Will Ferrell) is the protagonist, both of the movie, and of the story-within-a-story, that unfolds from the typewriter of novelist Karen Eiffel. Eiffel is played by the great Emma Thompson, whose brief narrative patches given in a lilting, buttery British accent, make you wish she narrated every book, or at least read you bedtime stories.

We laugh as Eiffel lays out the story that comprises Harold Crick’s life, while Crick is baffled by the omniscient voice who “speaks about me, and with a better vocabulary.” Here, Ferrell takes on his most mature role, imbued with a deep pathos and sympathy that arrives even before he starts to cry; possibly an onscreen first for Will. Notably absent is his trademark nude scene we all secretly love to laugh at. This is a grown-up Will Ferrell, reaching his Truman Show moment which set Jim Carrey free some years back.

Not surprisingly, the film has a literary tone, with crisp dialogue, believable characters and a touching love story. Some critics didn’t buy the chemistry between Ferrell and the always authentic Maggie Gyllenhaal (playing Ana), but few will fail to be touched when Ana offers Harold a cookie. Also, we shouldn't overlook Dustin Hoffman’s dark, understated humour as he plays a literary professor who confers knowledge on Crick, while bumbling in a meet-the-fockers, cutesy way.

It is no coincidence that Crick is an IRS agent, hinting at the most likely ending. For, of course, we are always taught the two inevitabilities in life are death and taxes. With Crick's fate seemingly determined early on (even in the trailers for the film), we are all left wondering, how will death befall this taxman?

Without saying too much, this was a Kauffman-esque, clever film with loads of heart, simple ambitions and a bitchin’ soundtrack. The film pokes fun at the elitism of the literati, explores death, life and love, and the role that art has to play in all of the above. With the eye-catching cinematography that will make you think of director Michele Gondry, you really could believe you were watching a Charlie Kauffman film. But no. This is Zach Helm. This is Harold Crick. And this is a great movie.