The standard-bearer for Will Ferrell’s own personal subgenre, which can best be summarized as “gather a giant circle of friends, run them through the wardrobe department, amuse each other and burn film.” I’m not sure how much of this plot was actually set to paper before it caught a studio green light, but it can’t have been more advanced than just a few broad strokes. Arrogant 1970s TV news anchor is challenged by a female rival - yeah, we’ve probably written enough. When can we start filming?

Fortunately for Ferrell (and for the viewing audience), he and his buddies are really goddamned good at plucking nuggets of comic gold from thin air. None of the best bits have anything to do with the plot, nor do they need to; a truth which liberates the cast to venture as far from the beaten path as they please. Effectively a poker-faced comedic arms race, _Anchorman_’s every scene sees its stars on the verge of breaking character because the things they’re hearing and saying are so bluntly, outrageously absurd. There’s a certain delight to dreaming up a really good phrase or reaction, and its traces are painted on almost every face in almost every scene. They can’t wait to try their next improv punchline, or to hear what comes out of the others’ mouths. That inclusive, free-spirited energy carries right through the screen. The comedians’ visible glee and unguarded attitudes make us feel like we’re a part of the group, not just an unrelated observer.

_Anchorman_ is the type of flick you’ll watch with an unbroken grin, even when there’s no immediate reason for it. Pure funny, just for the sake of funny. Maybe it’s a little loud, infantile and repetitive, but it doesn’t really strive to do anything more than play around and soak up the resulting laughs. Plenty of those to go around.