The road movie is a time-honored Hollywood genre, and it’s a good format for a documentary, too. Something about getting in a car and driving down the interstate feels quintessentially American and holds the potential for revelation. I’ve seen plenty that serve up only pablum about finding common ground and tolerating each other. But a country so full of contrasts and contradictions is excellent fodder for whoever is holding the camera.
“Will & Harper” (streaming on Netflix) is a surprisingly insightful entry into the category. Directed by Josh Greenbaum (who has made comedies like “Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar,” among other things), the documentary begins like any conventional road movie might: Two old friends get in a car on the East Coast and point their headlights west.
But these are no ordinary friends. Will is Will Ferrell, the comedian and star. Harper is Harper Steele, one of Ferrell’s oldest friends, dating all the way back to their days at “Saturday Night Live,” where they started the same week in 1995. Ferrell, of course, was a performer. Steele was a writer from 1995 to 2008; for four of those years, she was the show’s head writer.
In 2021, Steele sent an email to a close circle of friends, coming out as a trans woman. Ferrell, seeking to support her, proposed they go on a road trip across the country, during which he could navigate his relationship with Steele and they could also explore America. What would they learn? They’d find out.
The result, unsurprisingly, is very funny. These are two top comedy minds, and Ferrell, at least, is among America’s most recognizable celebrities, no matter what color the state. Steele, on the other hand, is dealing with a new reality. When she was younger, she. had traveled across America, but as a trans woman she encounters a different landscape. Ferrell is there as a companion and, at some points, a defender. Being a trans woman in America can draw a wide variety of responses from others.
The pair’s obvious affection for each other, and their ease with talking out hard questions, make the film cohere. Ferrell, in particular, feels secure asking Steele questions about her experience that for some audience members may function as proxies or models for engaging in their own relationships with trans friends and family.
What Ferrell and Steele don’t seem to have anticipated, and what really makes the film work, is the way Ferrell’s inability to hide as a celebrity provides a contrast, in provocative and sometimes uncomfortable ways, with Steele’s worries about being seen by others and the ways they will react. In some cases, the two are pleasantly surprised by people’s openness and warmth, especially in places they might not expect it, like rough-and-tumble dive bars or racetracks. At other times, the exchanges are much more awkward, and neither friend shies away from discussing their feelings afterward.
“Will & Harper” had every opportunity to stay on the surface, drawing shallow conclusions about America, togetherness and friendship. But the trust between Steele and Ferrell, their willingness to be open and Greenbaum’s skill at capturing their interactions really make the film sing. It’s the sort of movie you hope everyone will watch, and the kind that pretty much anyone who approaches it with good will may find both thought-provoking and a whole lot of fun.
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