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In the middle of the pandemic, Will Ferrell received an email from an old friend. They’d met in 1995 when both joined the sketch show institution Saturday Night Live – he was a performer, she was a writer. She’d defended his talents from those who doubted him, then wrote many of his best sketches, and together they’d go on to collaborate on a number of movies, from Casa de mi Padre to Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga. And, now, she had something very important to say: at the age of 61, she is ready to tell him – and the world – that she is trans. Later, she’d name herself Harper Steele.
Will & Harper, a Netflix documentary directed by their friend, Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar’s Josh Greenbaum, shows us what happened next. Steele and Ferrell drove from New York City to Los Angeles, across Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Texas, Arizona, and Nevada. Harper had made these cross-country trips all her life, but now, as an out trans woman, she wondered what might have changed, if these places would see and treat her the same way. “I love this country so much,” she tells the camera. “I just don’t know if it loves me back.”
Steele and Ferrell are comedians. And their documentary is true to their nature: warmly funny (there’s an extended, surreal bit about Pringles’ flavour range), sentimental, and slightly innocent, in a way people would associate with the latter’s childlike on-screen persona. It’s pretty showbiz, too, with a 15-person crew behind the camera; a palpable consciousness about how certain moments are staged, filmed, and edited into a traditional narrative; and pitstop cameos from the likes of Tracy Morgan, Tina Fey, Will Forte, and Molly Shannon. Kristen Wiig appears via phone, with a promise to write the duo a theme tune.
There is, then, an unavoidable sense of performance to Will & Harper. Nothing here is inauthentic or dishonest, but both subjects are storytellers by nature, and they’re never fully disconnected from the camera in front of them. They know the kind of story that needs to be told, and what vulnerability is demanded from them, as they navigate a new chapter in their friendship. What’s changed between them, if anything’s changed at all? The answer, when they reach it, is really quite beautiful.
For trans viewers, Steele talks frankly about what’s still an early stage in her journey. She starts to recalibrate her relationship with the traditionally male spaces she’s always liked to frequent, the sports arenas and biker bars, while realising that there are no borders on kindness and cruelty. Ferrell, meanwhile, is invested in what it takes to be a good ally. While at a basketball game, he’s introduced to the governor of Indiana, Eric Holcomb, only to later discover he’s pushed anti-trans legislation. The actor becomes frustrated that he didn’t confront him on the issue.
Holcomb was polite to Steele, as it dawns on them both, because her friend is a celebrity. Steele’s proximity to fame is crucial, both as a benefit and a harm. There’s a tense moment in a Texan steakhouse, after the actor’s impulse for buffoonery leads him to dress up as Sherlock Holmes and attempt a 72-ounce steak challenge.
He breaks down the next day when he realises the exposure may have incidentally put Steele in danger. As she puts it, “I was feeling a little like my transness was on display.” Not many friendships are tested because somebody decides to dress up as a literary detective in public. But it’s refreshing, in a way, that Will & Harper doesn’t try so hard to trumpet relatability. It doesn’t need to. Its heart remains true.
Dir: Josh Greenbaum. Starring: Will Ferrell, Harper Steele. 15, 114 mins.
‘Will & Harper’ is in selected cinemas from 13 September, and streams on Netflix from 27 September
