The Talladega jones, explained

A friend sent me an interesting review of Talladega Nights, which manages to both fill my month's quota for snarky and neatly encapsulates my attraction to the movie:

Indeed, I don’t like to think of Will Ferrell’s brand of comedy as a higher-brow Adam Sandler; I like to think of him as a low-brow Christopher Guest. He’s like the inebriated, macho-retard amalgamation of Eugene Levy, Fred Willard, and Michael McKean and, in that way, he appeals to the high-end of our lower brain functions, which (I think) makes it OK for the McSweeney’s crowd to get a guilt-free kick out of him.

That's it!

I know Talladega Nights will be no A Mighty Wind, but hey--if Ed Begley, Jr. can get me in tears, laughing at his Norweigan guy doing Yiddish schtick, then I'm willing to take a chance on Ferrell in a Wonderbread racing suit.