Editor’s Note: The following contains minimal spoilers.

If the premise of “Will & Harper” seems contrived, it’s because it is.

After Harper Steele came out to her friend, comedian Will Ferrell, Ferrell suggested the two take a road trip across America.

He confessed to not knowing much about the trans experience, and Harper confessed fear of entering the red-state spaces–dive bars, small-town football games, etc.– she once loved. Noting the zeitgeist of animosity toward LGBTQ+ people, Harper says she “loves the United States, but I just don’t know if it loves me back right now.”

They would bring a camera crew along and document the whole experience.

A great American road trip among friends, the emotional catharsis of addressing the hotly debated reality of gender fluidity, and a world-famous, instantly recognizable funny man to boot? Who wouldn’t want to watch that?

Despite how manufactured the premise of the documentary appeared, it worked.

Will and Harper first met on the set of Saturday Night Live (SNL), the comedic vehicle that made Ferrell famous. Harper (then known as Andrew) began as a writer the same week Will joined the cast. They formed a quick friendship and Harper became the primary writer for many of Will’s most famous sketches.

During her career at SNL, Harper was nominated for multiple Emmy awards, winning one. After serving as the head writer, she went on to write for “Funny or Die” and several comedic films. Will Ferrell would go on to become Will Ferrell.

On their road trip, Ferrell’s fame would serve as a shield for any unwanted attention directed toward Harper. The idea of “passing” came up in a meetup in Peoria, Illinois, with a trans woman, Dana, who, like Harper, transitioned later in life. 

Dana spoke of her refusal to alter her voice to match particular standards of what is considered “female.” The conversation highlighted the dilemma many trans people face in public.

“Passing” occurs when people’s perception of a trans person’s gender identity matches up with how the trans person identifies. It is a problematic concept for several reasons. 

It implies a desire of trans people to deceive, suggesting they are “putting on a show” and not living out who they know themselves to be. More than that, however, “passing” is an indictment of our refusal to accept that gender and gender expression exist along a spectrum with infinite possibilities.

This is one of the elements at the heart of Will & Harper. On the surface, Will’s place in the documentary seems noble and admirable: A person armed with every perceivable privilege acting as a public shield for a friend whose identity is under attack. Under the surface, however, this plot device belies the damning reality that it shouldn’t have to be this way.

The film does reveal moments of hope found in unexpected places, such as when, in Will’s absence, Harper is accepted and made to feel welcome. (Of course, it should be noted that people tend to behave better when cameras are around.) “Will & Harper” is an ode to friendship and the commitment, vulnerability and risk it requires. 

In an understated moment early in the film, Will and Harper discuss Ferrell’s early days at SNL, revealing that he almost didn’t last. Neither Lorne Michaels, SNL’s creator and producer, nor other writers or cast members understood Ferrell. They didn’t think he was funny.

But Harper, who, as a rookie, had as much to lose as Will, vouched for the comic. She told everyone else, essentially, to give it time and they’ll eventually understand.

This is the thread running through “Will & Harper.”  If we approach everyone with curiosity, trust that they are who they say they are and give it some time, we may eventually see magic.

“Will & Harper” was directed by Josh Greenbaum and can be viewed on Netflix.