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The
thrill of victory: Heder and Ferrell in Blades of Glory.
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Manly
Men
By
Laura Leon
Blades
of Glory
Directed
by Will Speck and Josh Gordon
The sight of a near-naked Will Ferrell, hairy stomach bulging
over a towel, might be a bit much, especially on an empty
stomach. However, it’s one of the funniest sight gags in Blades
of Glory, a movie that pokes the same kind of fun at skating
as Ferrell’s Talladega Nights: The Legend of Ricky Bobby
did at NASCAR racing. It also is one of the few jokes that
supports the movie’s underlying theme, which is the question
of true masculinity. Ferrell’s character, the sex-addicted,
flamboyantly he-man Chazz Michael Michaels, oozes cheesy machismo,
what with his ice routines set to Billy Squire’s “The Stroke”
and his blatant come-ons to the female judges. Next to him,
Chazz’s arch nemesis and chief competitor, Jimmy MacElroy
(Jon Heder), seems, well, poofy. Known for his trademark “peacock”
move, the robotic MacElroy masters routines that are textbook
perfect and full of artistry.
When Michaels and MacElroy tie for gold at the World Wintersport
Games, their rivalry bubbles over, resulting in a free-for-all
on the podium and their ban for life from the sport. Screenwriters
Jeff Cox, Craig Cox, John Altschuler and Dave Krinsky have
fun with the concept of what happens to the skating world’s
rejects, in this case most notably with a freakish children’s
ice show, but bring the story back to the world of competition
with the discovery by one of Jimmy’s more fanatic fans that
the official rules do not preclude Michaels and MacElroy from
skating in a different division—in this case, pairs. With
coach (Craig T. Nelson) and choreographer in tow, the two
enemies join forces to conquer the competition—namely, the
sibling team of Stranz (Will Arnett) and Fairchild (Amy Poehler)
Van Waldenberg. In the process, they alternately disgust,
confuse and enchant the skating world with their new vision
of skill and artistry.
Blades
of Glory works best when it sticks to the ice, although
too much is made of the tricky business of having to grab
another man’s crotch in order to do a particular lift. Choreographer
Sarah Kawahara, aided no doubt by some adept camerawork and
computer generation, makes Ferrell, Heder, Arnett and Poehler
ap pear to be doing much more than pretending. Unfortunately,
what could have been one of the film’s highlights, the Van
Wal denbergs’ take on the forbidden dalliance of JFK and Marilyn
Monroe, complete with pill popping and skirt lifting, is seen
just in glimpses.
A side plot involving the brow-beaten youngest Van Waldenberg,
Katie (Jenna Fischer), being romanced by Jimmy is beside the
point, especially when you consider that both Fischer and
Heder work best when playing off the antics of others. The
movie could have been a lot meaner—and could have thrown out
by half the number of sex and boner jokes—and still retained
its PG-13 status, but it does provide the surreal pleasure
of hearing former champion-turned TV commentator Scott Hamilton
describing Michaels and MacElroy’s performance. Using much
the same phrases one hears when watching any skating event
on TV, Hamilton gleefully pricks holes in the idea that there
is really one standard of perfection, be it technical execution
or artistry. You can’t help but wonder if he’s actually in
on the joke, or completely unaware.
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