Will & Harper is an extraordinary story of friendship, a documentary portrait of how a relationship can grow and change over time, as we ourselves do.
For 30 years, Will Ferrell has delighted audiences with his kooky capering and outrageous characters. Behind the scripts of some of his most daring ventures — like the Spanish-language telenovela spoof Casa de mi Padre, the sublime Lifetime movie parody A Deadly Adoption, and the absolutely epic musical comedy Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga — was Ferrell’s long-time friend and collaborator Harper Steele.
The two met back when they were both newbies at Saturday Night Live. But for all those years, Steele was hiding a side of herself, going by a given name and an assigned gender identity that chafed. At 61, she came out as a trans woman, re-introduced herself as Harper, and began to navigate what this would mean for her relationships to friends and to the wider world. When she was male-presenting, she used to go on cross-country trips, happily delving into dive bars, sporting events, and other traditionally macho spaces with relative ease. But would these same spaces still be safe as a trans woman?
Seeking to reconnect with his friend as she eased into her transition, Will set out with Harper on a 16-day road trip across the U.S., revisiting old haunts and taking on new adventures to deepen their bond. Studded with celebrity cameos and silliness, Will & Harper is a must-see for comedy fans. Beyond that, it’s a brilliant and moving documentary that captures how identity and friendships can change for the better.
Will & Harper welcomes audiences into a warm and funny friendship.
Credit: Netflix
Directed by Josh Greenbaum, helmer of the spectacular buddy comedy Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar, Will & Harper reflects the defining humor of its subjects with dedication. Initially, Greenbaum employs traditional techniques, like talking head interviews and a montage of TV and movie clips to swiftly establish how Ferrell and Steele came to know each other. But there are details that break up that formality, like Ferrell commenting on the B-roll being shot as he sits down, and then describing his friend as a “a lovable curmudgeon with a super-weird sense of humor” who loves “shitty beer.”
From there, Ferrell shares the email Steele sent him in 2021, while he was shooting Spirited, the Ryan Reynolds’–fronted Christmas musical. “I’ll be transitioning to live as a woman,” Steele wrote, admitting now in her own on-screen interview that the email was “really hard to send.” Shared with the audience, this deeply personal letter treats us as if we too are her long-time friend, the doc doc entrusting us with this vulnerability at the 3-minute mark. We also get a taste of the sensibility that has informed the titular twosome’s bond and work together.
“I doubt being a trans woman will change my personality that much,” Steele reads her email on camera aloud, “Instead of an asshole, I’ll be a bitch.” Beyond this, Steele reflects on what sending the note risked, admitting her fear of coming out as trans: “Will I still be loved?”
For his part, Ferrell wonders in his interview, “OK, where do we go from here?…Will I be making a completely new friend?” And, “Does she still like shitty beer?”
Tina Fey, Kristen Wiig, Seth Meyers, Will Forte, and more appear and show support.
Credit: Netflix
The first stop on the duo’s trip is New York City, where they reunite with an array of famous co-stars over dinner. It’s a familiar space — near 30 Rock, where they were once royalty, among people they’ve known and loved for decades. But there’s a tension amid the reverie and jokes, as Steele’s friends worry aloud about her safety in this endeavor.
“My transition might change the way I navigate the country,” she admits, noting she likes “the lowest worst places.” To which Tina Fey chirps with worry, “It’s not safe for you anymore!”
Other SNL cast members pop up later, with Kristen Wiig being conscripted for a special assignment and Will Forte meeting up for some casual hot-air ballooning. But Fey’s fear is reflected in the reactions of Steele’s grown children, one of whom presses as to how Ferrell might protect her parent should things get hostile on the road. Over lunch at a Greek diner, Ferrell makes a joke about being a trained martial artist, a bit that goes over like a lead balloon. But his shield is actually one of privilege.
Will Ferrell knowingly wields his privilege as a rich and famous white cis-man.
And it’s often very effective. Without putting too fine a point on it, Ferrell understands that he possesses privilege that Steele does not. As they stride into a Pacers game at a sporting arena or a backroads dive bar or a Texas BBQ place, he knows he’ll be fine because no one will question his place there. The clear expectation is that by being with him, Steele will be shielded, at least a bit.
At times this works, like when an anti-trans politician bites his tongue about their road-tripping quest, seemingly because he values chatting up a celebrity more than revealing his bigotry. But this event also causes Ferrell to reflect about whether being a shield is enough. Should he have said something and challenged this politician? Should he have weaponized his privilege? The film won’t preach an easy answer, but instead invites us to watch Ferrell and Steele hash that out together. If they could go back, what would have been done differently?
For her part, Steele is no damsel in distress. As she grows more comfortable on the road, she yearns to step outside of Ferrell’s bubble of celebrity protection, going into one seedy joint on her own. And while the crowd there is welcoming — more so when she invites the SNL star inside to join her — another assembly along the way won’t be. To assure those in want of a trigger warning: There’s no violence. But one very public outing results in sneers and bigoted backlash online, in which both Steele and Ferrell are denounced, though Steele more grotesquely. This is the low point in the narrative, one the film asks us to take somberly, which the friends do as well, reflecting on what such reactions mean about America and Steele’s life going forward.
Here, in a Texas BBQ, is the hate and judgment Steele feared for so long, but she got through it. Of course, others in the trans community are not so lucky, as stats point to anti-trans violence being on the rise in the U.S. However, Will & Harper doesn’t pretend to be about all trans experiences. This documentary isn’t meant to be a blanket statement about what it means to be trans in America. As its title suggests, it’s about what it means for Harper to be trans in America, where she enjoys certain privileges that can shield her. But beyond that, it’s about how a specific friendship evolved to help both sides grow more comfortable in their own skin and with each other.
Will & Harper is a story of trans joy.
Credit: Netflix
In the end, that’s what makes Will & Harper so remarkable. Sure, Ferrell will occasionally deflect tension by leaning into a bit, like dressing up as Sherlock Holmes or hiding his famous face behind preposterous glued-on facial hair. But at its core, this is a movie that’s bracingly intimate, allowing us to ride along on a defining road trip.
Whether they’re talking about Pringles flavors, tearful memories, or deep-set anxieties, we’re buckled in with them. Maybe we’ll see ourselves or someone we love in Will or Harper. For some, this movie may be the friend they need to help them better understand trans identity and themselves. Across this road trip, we are invited to awe in the blossoming of Harper, who went from hiding herself away to sharing herself with the world, not without fear, but with inspiring bravery.
Will & Harper is a resoundingly joyful and moving documentary, resplendent in its openness. It’s their love story, and it’s glorious.
Reviewed out of the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival, Will & Harper debuts on Netflix Sept. 27.
