Review of Everything Must Go (2011) by Brent H — 12 Mar 2012

The male midlife crisis can be as compelling on screen (Sideways, American Beauty) as it is pitiful in real life (45-year-old men cruising the mall in $300 jeans).

Everything Must Go falls somewhere in between.

Taking its concept from a Raymond Carver (very) short story, Everything Must Go is worth watching for a few reasons, but none more prominent than Will Ferrellâ(TM)s portrayal of Nick Halsey, a soon-to-be unemployed salesman whose entire life is about to be turned inside out.

We meet Nick at a low point in a series of them. Itâ(TM)s not his first and wonâ(TM)t be his lowest, but by any measure, heâ(TM)s having a very bad day. After losing his sales job, he comes home to find his wife gone, the locks on his house changed, his credit cards frozen and all of his worldly possessions piled up on his front lawn.

Heâ(TM)s stuck there, in his yard in front of the world, and almost contentedly so, as long as the mini fridge stays stocked with Pabst Blue Ribbon.

This is about where the Carver story begins. In it, the unnamed central character is holding a yard sale and is a heavy drinker. The reader isnâ(TM)t told much else explicitly, but the despair in the unnamed protagonist canâ(TM)t be missed.

Likewise, desperation is the defining characteristic of Nick. It deepens his self-destructive behavior, as he compounds his bad luck with a series of bad decisions.

He sets up camp in the yard, parked in his recliner and sipping/guzzling PBR until his AA sponsor, also a cop, informs him that a city ordinance wonâ(TM)t allow it. Nick can call his setup a yard sale, but it canâ(TM)t last more than five days.

At this point, after a pretty miserable first act, Nick (and the viewer) is finally given a direction. Unfortunately, neither Nick (nor the film) is interested in getting going.

As a result the movie never takes off until itâ(TM)s almost too late. Like its central character, itâ(TM)s content to sit passive while its life/story further unravels. Meanwhile, the viewer begs for both Nick and the movie to do something.

Eventually they do, and the experience is rewarding enough.

The saving grace, perhaps, is Ferrell. Though there are moments of humor, this is not a comedy. Itâ(TM)s a character-based study of addiction and loneliness and Ferrell plays it with restraint. His natural presence and affability are undeniable, pulling the viewer to his corner when theyâ(TM)d have no other reason be there and letting the scriptâ(TM)s subtle humor hit the right marks.

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