Blades of Glory

There isn't an actor alive who's better at playing dumb than Will Ferrell.

His last three movies have recycled the same plot: Ferrell's dimwitted but inexplicably talented character - be it a newscaster, race car driver or, in "Blades of Glory," an ice skater - is fired for his stupidity, then redeems himself in spite of (and sometimes because of) his lack of self-awareness.

Likewise, "Blades of Glory" tells the story of the dopey Ferrell (the character's name is irrelevant, as Ferrell's screen persona hasn't changed in years) and Jimmy MacElroy (Jon Heder of "Napoleon Dynamite"), a pair of rival figure skaters who are banished from the sport for fighting after an Olympic competition.

Ferrell and MacElroy pay their penance by taking up day jobs for the ensuing 3 1/2 years, and then find a legal loophole that will allow them to compete once more: If they pair up as doubles, they can re-enter the Olympics and go for the gold.

The two bicker, brawl and mug for the camera as they bond under the tutelage of their coach (Craig T. Nelson) and under the pressure of besting a brother-and-sister duo (Will Arnett of Arrested Development and Amy Poehler of "Saturday Night Live"). Will they triumph? Will their coach find redemption? Will the sun rise in the east?

The plot is as ludicrous as it sounds, there's a DOA love story and the dance sequences are purposefully awful, with lots of obvious CGI and wirework.

Which doesn't mean "Blades of Glory" is bad - it's just loose and lazy; it lives moment-to-moment rather than building to a cohesive whole. I laughed a lot throughout, although I couldn’t help but wonder how Ferrell can keep up this string of identical plotlines without burning out his audience. Sure, he made the eccentric, underrated "Stranger Than Fiction," but Ferrell's bread-and-butter productions have become well-oiled machines, testaments to the actor's easy blankness and gift for improvisation. (It's unlikely that any writer, much less the four hacks credited to "Blades of Glory" could have crafted all of Ferrell's twinkling non sequiturs.)

Many critics have quite reasonably taken issue with the "Glory"s use of gay panic as a plot device, and yes, Ferrell and Heder spend a lot of time facing each other's balls and holding hands in a decidedly non-hetero fashion. Right on cue, the audience I saw it with played along with these shockers, snickering every time Ferrell and Heder were forced to rub their crotches together during a dance sequence.

The conservative pandering is indeed awful, and the crowd's Pavlovian reactions were depressing, but I was surprised at how few of the jokes revolved around homophobia. Most of the humor is character-based, and I appreciated the fact that Ferrell and company were generous to allow Arnett and Poehler to steal every scene they're in. The picture isn't likely to be endorsed by Stonewall any time soon, but its stereotyping is lighthearted enough to give it half of a free pass. (Ferrell's hetero sex addiction is portrayed as far more pathetic than his potential gayness.)

There's much else to appreciate here. I loved the opening montage detailing the main characters' backstories and the comically incestuous relationship between the Ferrell and MacElroy's sibling rivals. Especially noteworthy is a chase scene where Arnett chases Ferrell - on ice skates, no less - through snow drifts, city streets, and, eventually, up an escalator.

"Blades of Glory" isn't going to win over any new converts to Ferrell's style of comedy; it lacks the Busby Berkeley flights of fancy and deep backup cast of "Anchorman" and Heder is no match for "Talledega Nights"s John C. Reilly. It's a treading-water exercise for a comedian who isn't interested in stretching audience expectations. But, at least for now, even a sloppy Ferrell exercise is still worth a look.

Rating: ***