Will Ferrell is the latest alumni from American comedy institution Saturday Night Live to strike out on his own on the big screen.
Here, he's moustached 70s San Diego anchorman Ron Burgundy, a hairy-chested, polyester-clad guy's guy with a soothing voice who possibly smells ofBrut. And he is funny.
Only he's much funnier in small doses than the big dose of the movie that's been built around him. The film seriously runs out of steam towards the finish, until it gets to the end bit with the cute animals - hey, just like a real television news bulletin. Fancy that.
There are puerile funny parts involving unusual movement in his plaid pants, at least one great rock-nerd joke involving a knowledge of the works of Jethro Tull, and one sequence which parodies Gangs of New York with walk-on parts from Tim Robbins, Vince Vaughn and Ben Stiller (who probably turned up because he didn't have a movie out that week).
But as we follow Ferrell's autocue jockey as he deals with his first woman co-anchor (Applegate, playing it straight), Anchorman starts to feel like a series of sketches of descending hit rate. It says something about the self-importance of the photogenic few paid to to read news out loud, but nothing quite nasty enough.
On this side of the Pacific we didn't get newsreaders with moustaches until the 80s, so maybe it's just that the period feels all wrong.
