Everything Must Go (2011)

It’s one of those marketing phrases used so often that it’s nearly lost its impact: Everything Must Go. Nick Halsey (Will Ferrell) is familiar with it, as well as the numerous “rules” of salesmanship he spouts in an effort to be taken seriously. But that old going-out-of-business cliché hits home for Nick–literally–in this imperfect but well-meaning indie film with an admirable dramatic turn by the usually comedic lead.

Nick begins the movie caught up in an awful day. He’s fired from his job, despite being a longtime employee with respectable sales, because he’s an alcoholic. Nick’s had AA meetings and stints in rehab, but an incident on a business trip has led to a parting of the ways. His smarmy young boss thinks it’s an easy firing decision because Nick and his wife don’t have any children. On his way home to deliver the bad news, Nick buys a 12-pack and does a belly-flop off the wagon.

But he doesn’t make it through his front door, as he encounters even worse news: His wife has put all of Nick’s possessions out on the front lawn, changed the locks, and disappeared. Losing his car and his money soon after, Nick begins living on his lawn, chugging Pabst and surrounded by his remaining possessions. Human contact comes in the form of Kenny (Christopher Jordan Wallace), an inquisitive, bicycle-riding kid from the neighborhood, and Samantha (Rebecca Hall), a married woman who just moved in across the street. Nick’s AA sponsor, a police detective (Michael Peña), tells him he can’t live this way, and that the city will only allow his lawn campout for up to five days as a “yard sale.” At that point, Nick–and everything else–must be gone.

This small-scale indie is a rare attempt at a serious character from a well-known comedic star, and it’s a welcome effort. Will Ferrell can be amusing, but he often relies on mugging for the camera, much like fellow TV comics Jim Carrey, Adam Sandler, and Robin Williams did early in their careers. Once they started receiving roles with a little dramatic meat on the bones (The Truman Show, Punch-Drunk Love, and Dead Poets Society), however, their range expanded and their characters became more natural.

That’s what Ferrell gives us in Nick Halsey, a profoundly sad character who’d be a nice guy if he wasn’t an incessant drunk living in denial. The film avoids getting too preachy about alcoholism; there’s not even an AA meeting scene, which usually seems to be a requirement in such projects. But his every reach for a beer can is like another punch in the gut, as he tries to keep himself convinced that his problems are temporary and not of his own creation.

Ferrell modulates himself to deliver an honest portrayal of an alcoholic loser with only a modicum of his former charm and good humor. His timing, honed by his comedic skills, shows through his natural comic delivery, particularly in his numerous scenes with Kenny, his budding salesman. Wallace, son of the late rapper The Notorious B.I.G., is soft-spoken, subtle, and kind of charming as Kenny, a nicely shaded performance for his young age.

As its title suggests, Everything Must Go is about things disappearing. Nick’s vengeful wife is never seen or heard in the film; nor is Kenny’s mother, who looks after an old woman slowly dying in a house down the street. Samantha’s husband is also strangely absent. Nick loses some of his possessions to teenage thieves while he sleeps on his recliner. When an old yearbook leads Nick to track down a high-school flame (Laura Dern), she tells a brief story that sadly illustrates how much Nick has already missed in his life because of his drinking. It’s a heartbreaking moment for Nick, and for the audience trying to root for the guy despite his issues. Ferrell’s natural charm helps, yet you can see the emotion in his eyes, and he handles this and other intense moments with deep feeling.

Writer-director Dan Rush has made an admirable effort with his debut film. Based on a short story by Raymond Carver (see Robert Altman’s Short Cuts for more of his work), Everything Must Go stumbles with a few elements, such as wasting Stephen Root in the role of Nick’s next-door neighbor, an awkward subplot with a meager payoff. Some other scenes lack the payoff they need. And much of the ending is too pat and clichéd. Alcohol addiction is a serious problem, more prevalent in this country than drug addiction, and it feels disingenuous to saddle the film’s realistic tone with such an upbeat, facile resolution.

Will Ferrell’s participation is what brought Everything Must Go to the big screen rather than relegating it to the Lifetime channel or an afterschool special. But even with his presence, it’s not likely to draw a large audience due to the downbeat subject matter. It could become popular with therapists and support groups, however. I know several people, all chronic beer drinkers, who behave in the same self-justifying, socially destructive manner as Nick Halsey. I would love to make them watch this movie, though they probably wouldn’t make the connection to their own lives.

It’s often anguishing to observe the downward spiral, but like the supporting characters in the film, all we can do is beg and plead with our friends and loved ones to mend their ways. Lasting change comes from within, and sometimes a person has to lose everything in order to regain their soul.