Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby
Revving Up the Engines to Barrel Over Blasphemy
By Mark Ezra Stokes
8-18-06
Movie controversies just ain’t what they used to be. Despite all the hoopla surrounding The Da Vinci Code, it still managed to gross more than 200 million dollars in the U.S. (even if it ended up being too boring to elicit any lasting arguments). Though Harry Potter remains a tried-and-true target for picketers, no one seems to be listening, and we’ve got another year before the next one comes out. The question remains: With the current movies about snake-handling (Snakes on a Plane) and praying policemen (World Trade Center), how are Christians expected to get our boycott fix? Never fear, my picket-happy compatriots, because nothing offends our Lord more than the unsavory subject of… NASCAR.
Okay, so maybe there’s nothing intrinsically blasphemous about high-speed automobiles driving in endless circles, but Christian critic Ted Baehr considers Talladega Nights: The Legend of Ricky Bobby “one of the most blasphemous, politically correct major movies ever released by a major Hollywood studio.” This film is definitely intent on poking fun, but what if there’s credence to the various caricatures portrayed? Could the “art” of Ricky Bobby’s tale be imitating a few offensive trends in American society? Though I’m not a fan of NASCAR (or driving cars in general), I am a heterosexual, Christian, Southern, white male. So according to Baehr, I should be offended. Yet, for some reason, I’m not (at least not by the film).
Talladega Nights follows fictitious NASCAR legend Ricky Bobby (Will Ferrell) who, from his birth in a speeding muscle car on the way to the hospital, has always wanted to drive fast. His life is rooted on something his deadbeat dad told him during elementary-school show-and-tell: “If you ain’t first, you’re last.” During his career, Ricky remains focused on winning, though that sometimes means neglecting family, friends and his own safety. Like the books of Ecclesiastes and Job, the film ponders on what is truly lasting when accolades and material gains fade away.
Talladega Nights is definitely crude at times, earning its PG-13 rating for crude and sexual humor, language, drug references and brief comic violence. But amidst the low-brow humor and the sloppily-constructed storyline is an overarching message. Ricky Bobby and his friends represent capitalism at its most perverse extreme. Like NASCAR, the film offers a sensory overload of product placement, taking its criticism of corporate sponsorship as far as it’ll go (which includes an entire Applebee’s commercial in the middle of the final racing scene). It constructs a materialistic society where it’s impossible to separate the church from the state or the bank. Ricky and his friends incessantly spout patriotic clichés while revealing just how little they know about any nation outside of their borders. Ricky’s trophy wife (Leslie Bibb) asks him to pray well so he’ll win the next day’s race. Such cringe-worthy moments are prevalent enough to get the point across: too much of a good thing can create some really disturbing results.
One of the most “offensive” elements of the film involves the Bobby family prayer around the dinner table. During Ricky’s prayer (which involves lots of shallow gratitude for prosperity and abundance), Ricky’s wife chastises him for referring to Jesus as “Lord Baby Jesus.” Ricky explains that he likes the Christmas Jesus best. What ensues is an absurd, family-wide argument of whose perception of Jesus is the best and most accurate.
Also during the prayer, we’re introduced to Ricky’s foul-mouthed, disrespectful children, Walker and Texas Ranger (T.R.). Though 90 percent of their dialogue seems meant solely for shock value, we learn that these children are merely products of their environment. They’re brats because, like Ricky, they’ve been taught to do whatever it takes to get what you want.
Though Talladega Nights raises some relevant sociological concerns, it’s just not constructed well (much like last month’s Lady in the Water). Never does the story flow in one direction before being yanked in another direction by some random joke. Though the main storyline seems to be one of Ricky’s redemption, we’re yanked a different way to follow the children’s reform, and then we’re yanked in another direction to follow Ricky’s attempt at atonement with his father. All of these storylines could’ve really meshed well together thematically if the pacing were worked out. Instead, Talladega Nights seems to center on Ferrell’s numerous improvised lines—many of which have been spoiled in the T.V. trailer.
Talladega Nights won’t be a required viewing at film schools, nor will it become a vital part of our pop cultural lexicon. But it does paint quite a disturbing picture of what watered-down Christianity can become—not as a result of outside persecution or infiltration, but because we have created gods in our own image that look more like infants, Southern rock singers and ice skaters than the one, true God.
I suppose the boycotters are right when saying that Talladega Nights is offensive, but I don’t think we can blame such pseudo-blasphemy on the filmmakers. The sub-culture in this satire is alive and thriving, and the brunt of this perverse worldview seems to hit hardest in the chest of an unwavering but increasingly-exploited God. The most offensive, frightening reality of the film is that Ricky Bobby’s world is a slightly-distorted mirror of our own. That means that we as bored boycotters now have the opportunity to use the logs from our own eyes (see Matthew 7:1-5) to construct new picket signs that will guide us in identifying the real problem: the misperceptions of the person who stares into the mirror.
By Mark Ezra Stokes
8-18-06
Movie controversies just ain’t what they used to be. Despite all the hoopla surrounding The Da Vinci Code, it still managed to gross more than 200 million dollars in the U.S. (even if it ended up being too boring to elicit any lasting arguments). Though Harry Potter remains a tried-and-true target for picketers, no one seems to be listening, and we’ve got another year before the next one comes out. The question remains: With the current movies about snake-handling (Snakes on a Plane) and praying policemen (World Trade Center), how are Christians expected to get our boycott fix? Never fear, my picket-happy compatriots, because nothing offends our Lord more than the unsavory subject of… NASCAR.
Okay, so maybe there’s nothing intrinsically blasphemous about high-speed automobiles driving in endless circles, but Christian critic Ted Baehr considers Talladega Nights: The Legend of Ricky Bobby “one of the most blasphemous, politically correct major movies ever released by a major Hollywood studio.” This film is definitely intent on poking fun, but what if there’s credence to the various caricatures portrayed? Could the “art” of Ricky Bobby’s tale be imitating a few offensive trends in American society? Though I’m not a fan of NASCAR (or driving cars in general), I am a heterosexual, Christian, Southern, white male. So according to Baehr, I should be offended. Yet, for some reason, I’m not (at least not by the film).
Talladega Nights follows fictitious NASCAR legend Ricky Bobby (Will Ferrell) who, from his birth in a speeding muscle car on the way to the hospital, has always wanted to drive fast. His life is rooted on something his deadbeat dad told him during elementary-school show-and-tell: “If you ain’t first, you’re last.” During his career, Ricky remains focused on winning, though that sometimes means neglecting family, friends and his own safety. Like the books of Ecclesiastes and Job, the film ponders on what is truly lasting when accolades and material gains fade away.
Talladega Nights is definitely crude at times, earning its PG-13 rating for crude and sexual humor, language, drug references and brief comic violence. But amidst the low-brow humor and the sloppily-constructed storyline is an overarching message. Ricky Bobby and his friends represent capitalism at its most perverse extreme. Like NASCAR, the film offers a sensory overload of product placement, taking its criticism of corporate sponsorship as far as it’ll go (which includes an entire Applebee’s commercial in the middle of the final racing scene). It constructs a materialistic society where it’s impossible to separate the church from the state or the bank. Ricky and his friends incessantly spout patriotic clichés while revealing just how little they know about any nation outside of their borders. Ricky’s trophy wife (Leslie Bibb) asks him to pray well so he’ll win the next day’s race. Such cringe-worthy moments are prevalent enough to get the point across: too much of a good thing can create some really disturbing results.
One of the most “offensive” elements of the film involves the Bobby family prayer around the dinner table. During Ricky’s prayer (which involves lots of shallow gratitude for prosperity and abundance), Ricky’s wife chastises him for referring to Jesus as “Lord Baby Jesus.” Ricky explains that he likes the Christmas Jesus best. What ensues is an absurd, family-wide argument of whose perception of Jesus is the best and most accurate.
Also during the prayer, we’re introduced to Ricky’s foul-mouthed, disrespectful children, Walker and Texas Ranger (T.R.). Though 90 percent of their dialogue seems meant solely for shock value, we learn that these children are merely products of their environment. They’re brats because, like Ricky, they’ve been taught to do whatever it takes to get what you want.
Though Talladega Nights raises some relevant sociological concerns, it’s just not constructed well (much like last month’s Lady in the Water). Never does the story flow in one direction before being yanked in another direction by some random joke. Though the main storyline seems to be one of Ricky’s redemption, we’re yanked a different way to follow the children’s reform, and then we’re yanked in another direction to follow Ricky’s attempt at atonement with his father. All of these storylines could’ve really meshed well together thematically if the pacing were worked out. Instead, Talladega Nights seems to center on Ferrell’s numerous improvised lines—many of which have been spoiled in the T.V. trailer.
Talladega Nights won’t be a required viewing at film schools, nor will it become a vital part of our pop cultural lexicon. But it does paint quite a disturbing picture of what watered-down Christianity can become—not as a result of outside persecution or infiltration, but because we have created gods in our own image that look more like infants, Southern rock singers and ice skaters than the one, true God.
I suppose the boycotters are right when saying that Talladega Nights is offensive, but I don’t think we can blame such pseudo-blasphemy on the filmmakers. The sub-culture in this satire is alive and thriving, and the brunt of this perverse worldview seems to hit hardest in the chest of an unwavering but increasingly-exploited God. The most offensive, frightening reality of the film is that Ricky Bobby’s world is a slightly-distorted mirror of our own. That means that we as bored boycotters now have the opportunity to use the logs from our own eyes (see Matthew 7:1-5) to construct new picket signs that will guide us in identifying the real problem: the misperceptions of the person who stares into the mirror.
posted by Greg Wright at 4:09 PM
6 comments
