Will & Harper

We all feel like we know Will Ferrell by this point. He’s a shouty, blustery funnyman who will do anything to get a laugh. He has many leather-bound books and his apartment smells of rich mahogany. He’s Ron Burgundy, Lord Business, Mugatu. Much of that persona is still here in this sweet documentary, but it’s softened. The focus instead lands on his longtime friendship with former SNL writer Harper Steele, who came out as trans in 2021.

Steele’s unexpected coming-out, which occurred late in life, is explained in a showstopping prologue, in which Ferrell reads out the email that Steele sent him: bracing and open and honest and funny (“Instead of being an asshole, I’ll be a bitch”). It sets the tone for the whole film. The two pals decide to take a road trip across America to process it all, building on Steele’s love of criss-crossing the country, and using it as an opportunity to reframe the friendship in its new guise. It’s an inner journey taken on an outer one.

Ferrell, inevitably, finds moments for outlandish silliness, but is also tender and generous.

Director Josh Greenbaum is best known for Barb And Star Go To Vista Del Mar but there’s little of that film’s wackiness or surrealism here: it’s far more sincere and thoughtful. Ferrell, inevitably, finds the occasional moment for outlandish silliness — he pulls a mock-tantrum when they don’t stop for doughnuts, and dresses as Sherlock Holmes during dinner at a restaurant — but is also tender and generous towards his friend, who is still navigating a sometimes painful, sometimes empowering new life.

It feels particularly painful during their visits to less tolerant parts of the country, and there are times when the film grows genuinely tense: particularly when the pair visit a steakhouse in Texas, and an awkward encounter with Indiana Governor Eric Holcomb, who it later emerges has passed anti-trans laws. Ferrell is sometimes naive to the hazards, but also hugely supportive of his friend, his immense fame acting as both a shield and a magnet to unwanted attention. But his very involvement in this film is to be commended. At a time when many millionaire comedians are using their considerable platform and power to demonise a minority, it’s mightily refreshing to see one try a different tack.

The film acts as a kind of learning experience — for Ferrell, who is trying to understand the new dimension his friendship has taken; for Steele, who is still grappling with her identity, and how it is received by others; and by us, the audience, at a time when the trans “debate” still feels so ugly and bad-faith. “The biggest question for when people come out of the closet is: will I still be loved?” Steele says at one point. This film is an emphatic and heartfelt answer to that question.