Prior to viewing Will & Harper, which premieres on Netflix this week, every conversation I had with a fellow trans person regarding it was met with cynicism. The premise of the documentary, which follows comedian Will Ferrell and his newly out-as-trans best friend Harper Steele initially gives a hollow “yes, my best friend is trans” vibe. And who could blame any LGBTQ2S+ person who made that assumption?
Recently, the relationship between straight and cisgender comedians and the LGBTQ2S+ community has had its ups and downs, especially with Netflix giving transphobes like Dave Chappelle and equal-opportunist, unfunny insult comic Ricky Gervais a platform and paying them millions of dollars to be there. No matter how many Netflix documentaries exist regarding queer and trans themes and comedy, such as Outstanding: A Comedy Revolution and, heck, even Will & Harper, it will always be hypocritical as long as Netflix still has deals with these performers.
I watched Will & Harper at TIFF earlier this month, and I was overcome by warmth and shock to see someone like Will Ferrell putting in an immeasurable effort of allyship and love to support his closest friend living her ultimate true self, unlike I’ve ever witnessed in film. While he’s not perfect—we’re all human, after all—he does more than people I know IRL to prove his commitment to grow as a stronger friend alongside his newly out bestie. I mean, we all can’t have Will Ferrell money to go on a cross-country trip like that these days. But even throughout their unscripted, raw and emotional adventure, the film serves as an aspirational portrait on the work cis-people should do when their best friend begins living their truth as a trans person.
Within the first few minutes, Ferrell, in a talking-head interview, and archival B-roll, discusses his decades-spanning friendship with Steele, from meeting when working on Saturday Night Live during the mid-’90s to their subsequent collaborative works in film. Steele penned some of the wackiest works of Ferrell’s career: Casa de mi Padre, Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga and that weird Lifetime flick, A Deadly Adoption. It was clear from his passionate retelling that they had a deep familial friendship. He then details how one day during filming the buddy-comedy musical Spirited in 2021, he was taken by surprise when receiving a detailed email from Steele, coming out as a trans woman at 61.
And what does one do when one of your best friends whom you’ve known for a long time comes out as trans? Ferrell goes with sending a supportive email back, saying that he supports and loves Steele: the proper first step to allyship along with instantly getting the new pronouns right.
In her interview, Steele shares the familiar concern that many people have when coming out in any capacity, saying, “‘Will I still be loved?’” Her fear of travelling across America was brought up during casual conversations over email with Ferrell, as road trips were her preferred pastime in her life until that point.
Usually, as she was on the road, Steele would seek out the worst bars full of cheap beer and grime straight out of a ’70s gangster flick. However, as an out trans woman, despite her attraction to those locations, the setting is more intimidating due to the likelihood of prejudiced patrons. Ferrell suggests that they go on a road trip together so Steele could reconnect with America as the pair also try to figure out what their new friendship looks like.
As director Josh Greenbaum (Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar) tags along behind them throughout, he chronicles the hilarious and sometimes serious moments as they journey west from NYC to L.A., stopping at many middle-America destinations along the way.
The pair’s witty banter and the first moments they share together onscreen capture an impression that their friendship has never wavered. As you spend time in their car, their intimate longtime connection and easy rapport go hand in hand. Their nervousness is gone as Ferrell gives Steele ease, validating his excitement about going on a trip with her.
There is comfort and security because they have been friends for a long time. When Ferrell asks questions about Steele’s identity, from her name change, to how her kids see her and her medical procedures, they all come from a place of curiosity, love and understanding. Steele also pries into Ferrell, asking if he was worried about how to talk to her when she came out to him. Never does it feel like the bond of friendship between them during Steele’s former self isn’t a part of their new relationship. Rather, the passage of time presents them with an opportunity to evolve.
Ferrell, who is famous and has a protective bubble around him, uses this privilege to help Steele feel comfortable in heteronormative and mainly right-leaning spaces over the course of the trip. But like any straight white man, that power can only go so far. For Ferrell’s fame gives them unwanted attention in public places—a scene where people jeer at the pair in a Texas BBQ leaves them rattled, for example—and there are newfound responsibilities he must take on, like checking if a politician is anti-trans before shaking his hand at a basketball game. Most people are not as famous as Ferrell, but there is a set of responsibilities cis people have to handle if they want to be good allies. When having that cis privilege, in the face of bigotry, there is a duty to stand up for your trans loved ones, make sure they’re gendered correctly and ensure their safety.
As the film progresses, Steele becomes more independent, stepping out of the bubble and becoming confident enough to go into grungy bars on her own. There’s a heartening scene where she befriends new folks at an Oklahoma bar and has Ferrell stand outside waiting for backup when things become unnerving. He ends up standing outside for a long time.
The film features other SNL alums from their class like Tina Fey, Paula Pell, Seth Meyers, Tim Meadows, Will Forte, Molly Shannon and Fred Armisen, all of whom Steele also emailed when coming out, and all of whom show their loving support of her. One of their funny conversations leads to the pair tapping Kristen Wiig to create a theme song for them, in which she does with should-be-Oscar-nominated ditty “Harper and Will Go West.” It’s heartwarming to see the film’s circle allyship extend beyond just Ferrell—and here’s hoping that sentiment makes its way to the executives at SNL and Netflix, who keep booking the likes of Chappelle.
Will & Harper’s narrative of a trans woman re-entering America with her cis best friend is an inspiring one that should serve as a model for true companionship. The never-ending support for one another throughout their journey evokes a sense of hope that’s essential to the world right now. It hits upon the notion that one must go the extra mile to show someone you care if you really love them. Will Ferrell drove hundreds of miles.
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