Stranger Than Fiction

Directed by Marc Forster

In Stranger Than Fiction, Harold Crick (Will Ferrell), a by-the-numbers IRS agent, hears a voice inside his head narrating his every action—including his budding romance with Ana Pascal (Maggie Gyllenhaal), a free-spirited baker whom he’s auditing. Trying to track his narrator, Harold consults with an English professor (Dustin Hoffman) and discovers he’s a character in a work of fiction that’s being penned by a novelist (Emma Thompson) famous for killing off her protagonists. Harold has to find her and convince her to spare his life—thereby abandoning her masterpiece. 

As fantastic and unlikely as this plot seems, the film’s an entirely engaging, utterly delightful romantic comedy elevated by edgy and fascinating conceptual dimensions. Stranger Than Fiction is one of this year’s most original and perfect films.

Swiss-born director Marc Forster—who scored successes with Monster’s Ball, Finding Neverland and Stay—says Stranger Than Fiction was the best developed, most balanced script he’s tackled.

“There was no need for me to worry about pushing plot points to make the story work. Zach Helm’s a talented writer, and [Producer] Lindsay Doran nurtured his script for years, really refining it and working everything out—which freed me to concentrate on detail and apply other levels of storytelling, like tone and music and visual effects,” Forster explains. “When I read it, I felt the script was magical and knew I wanted to direct it. But, so did many other directors. So, I had to audition, which was intimidating, and I almost didn’t do it. But then I thought, why not?”

MERIN: How did you audition?

FORSTER: We discussed my vision for the film—that Harold’s world is cold, antiseptic, colorless, while Ana’s environment is warm and cozy and colorful, for example. But the discussions were more detailed than that.

In Harold’s world, there are graphic overlays of words, numbers and charts that actively illustrate the character’s obsessive behavior and moment-to-moment mindset. Were graphics scripted or were they your invention of another level of storytelling?

They were a directorial decision. The script’s about Harold Crick’s overly organized life, and I thought, how can I show that visually? That’s how the graphics arrived. But our first attempts were very cheesy. Then my visual affects director found a group of artists called MK12 in Kansas City, who designed the graphics now in the film. I saw immediately that they worked: They give further definition, another layer of understanding of Harold’s character and the qualities of his world.

Harold’s world is cold, but he’s a delightful character—and Will Ferrell’s performance is absolutely brilliant. He’s so honest, and there’s no shtick ... 

Yes, Will’s a very honest actor. When he was first suggested, I watched his other work and found it funny but too broad for this film. I wasn’t sure about casting him—until I met him. He’s so humble and open; I knew immediately he was right for Harold.

All the performances have a delicious sweetness—always achieved through engaging and humorous quirkiness rather than sentimentality. For example, the Professor pours his unfinished coffee back into the pot—was that yours or Dustin Hoffman’s? 

Honestly, I think that was mine, but I’ve worked with Dustin before and we’re friends, and we use things he does in real life—like when he goes barefoot in one scene. That’s the collaboration you try to have with all your actors.

You say Stranger Than Fiction’s the best script you’ve had, but your lineup of movies has been spectacular. How do you choose projects, and do you see a through-line in your work?

Each is different, but I guess I chose them because I find such human qualities in them. I think all the characters in my films are emotionally repressed—because that’s the culture I come from. In Switzerland, you never tell people you love them. You know you love them, but you never speak about it. It’s all closed within you, and it’s a very emotionally repressed culture. That’s what I grew up with. Even in Stranger Than Fiction, the characters are emotionally repressed—but ultimately they free themselves one way or another. 

In Monster’s Ball, it’s breaking the cycle of violence—when she forgives him instead of killing him at the end. When I read Monster’s Ball, I was overwhelmed by the pain in those people. I knew nothing about the South and that kind of racism: I grew up in Switzerland, where discrimination’s less about color than about class or culture. I knew I’d learn from making that movie.

Neverland reminded me of my childhood escapes into fantasy. Creativity and fantasy are our strongest tools, and must be supported. Neverland’s the only script that made me cry. I knew I had to do it from a purely emotional standpoint, but the tricky thing was not to make it too sentimental. Restraint was a constant challenge because the script was so innocent, so emotional.

I made Stay because I’ve always been curious about how you know what’s real and what isn’t. But I was frightened about making a movie that doesn’t have reality as its framework. I felt it would be like doing an abstract painting—like an Escher piece or something. It was incredibly challenging. I knew people might not understand it but felt I had to do it for my personal growth.

Stay prepared me for Stranger Than Fiction, which also challenged me to create a framework of reality around an abstract concept.

Stranger Than Fiction’s a modern fairytale almost in the realm of Neverland. Ultimately, it asks how much of our lives is being written: How much influence do we have over fate, over crucial incidents—over whether we get hit by a bus or not? How much of that is written, and how much of that is not?