Jon Favreau's latest directorial debut, Elf, is a hilarious send-up of the Amercian patriarchio-capitalist synod which has dominated Western thought for well on 5 centuries. The story is that of Buddy, (expertly portrayed by the classical trained and lachrymose Will Ferrell) who, having been kidnapped by the Nietzchean super-father "Santa Claus," escapes to communist New York to regain his identity.

Ferrell earned his moribund stripes in the trenches of Saturday Night Live, and his Paggliaci-esque rendering of the tragic hero is nothing short of genius. Ferrell never hesitates or shies away from fully engorging his acting talent on the delicate symbology that Favreau thrusts upon him in order to maintain the theme of this "Christmas" yarn. For example, in one recurring tableaux, Ferrell attempts to engage comrades in "tickle fights," showing the ironically destructive juxtaposition of affection and conflict that has served as the foundation of the male psyche since the days of Patton and McCarthyism. Such pathos would wilt in the hands of a Matthau or Depp, but Ferrell's delicate stroking of the material leaves the audience turgid with understanding. In another scene, Ferrel symbolically castrates his father (James Caan) by giving him a gift of a piece of women's lingerie, in an attempt to take his place as alpha male in the family enclave. Again, Ferrell's brilliant use of absence by not being even in the scene when James Caan opens the parcel is the kind of non-acting, non-presence that other actors only dream of attaining after years of post-fame obscurity.

However, the film does not rest on Ferrell's shoulders alone. Casting director Susan Ferris gets in on the act by picking Ed Asner to play Santa. The allusion is obvious-- Ed Asner's "Lou Grant" can't be denied behind the pillow-stuffed red suit and bushy white whiskers, and since this and every paper-man owe an allegiance to William Randolph Hearst, one can only understand that Santa is being likened to the czarism of capital greed and the megalomaniacal domination of citizen "elves" in general.

Zooey Deschenel plays the slightly autistic Jovie, Ferrel's love interest and an excellent foil to his antics as wide-eyed innocent ingenue. Zooey's drifting from line to line has the effect and indeed the affect of poignantly painting the role of women in America and Hollywood in general as that of the sacrificial lamb to the angry Abraham-hating God of the male libido. In one memorable scene, the two sing a duet, with Deschenel in the shower, clearly to show how women are expected to subjugate themselves, naked, defenseless, for the entertainment of men. But the Mona-Lisa smile on her face makes one look for more in the scene-- why is she smiling? Because while women must lie spread-eagled against the dartboard of men's frivolous desires for entertainment and competition, men nevertheless throw themselves whole-heartedly into the task at hand-- Ferrel is sitting on a counter of sinks during the duet, a clear allusion to the phrase "everything and the kitchen sink." (That they are bathroom sinks and not actual kitchen sinks is just the sort of twist that we have come to expect from a Favreau.)

Rated PG, Elf is appropriate for children and college sophomores, and makes an excellent pause in this holiday season between shopping for fungible commodities and money laundering.