ENGLISH SPEECH WILL FERRELL Trust Your Gut English Subtitles
It is such an honor to deliver this year’s
commencement address to the University of
Southern California’s graduating class of
2017.
I would like to say thank you, graduates,
for that warm welcome.
I would also like to apologize to all the
parents who are sitting there, saying, ‘Will
Ferrell?
Why will Ferrell?
I hate Will Ferrell.
I hate him.
I hate his movies.
He’s gross.
Although he’s much better-looking in person.
Has he lost weight?’
By the way, that discussion is happening out
there right now.
Today I have also received an honorary doctorate,
for which I would like to give my thanks to
President Max Nikias.
I would also like to recognize my esteemed
fellow honorary doctorates, Suzanne Dworak-Peck,
a great humanitarian and visionary in the
field of social work.
Dr. Gary Michelson, whose innovation as one
of the country’s leading orthopedic spinal
surgeons has revolutionized this field.
Mark Ridley Thomas, a pillar of local and
state government for over 25 years.
David Ho whose work in AIDS research led him
to be TIME Magazine’s Man of the Year for
And one of the great actors of our time, Academy-Award
winning actress Dame Helen Mirren.
And then there’s me.
Will Ferrell, whose achievements include running
naked through the city of Montrose in Old
School.
Montrose in the house, alright.
Running around in my underwear and racing
helmet, thinking that I’m on fire as Ricky
Bobby in Talladega Nights.
Running around in Elf tights eating gum off
the ground and playing cowbell.
I think my fellow doctorates would agree based
on our achievements we are all on equal footing.
I want the university to know that I do not
take this prestigious honor lightly.
I’ve already instructed my wife and my children,
from this point on, they have to address me
as Dr. Ferrell.
There will be no exceptions.
Especially at our children’s various school
functions and when opening Christmas presents.
‘Yay, we got the new Xbox, thank you Dad!
I mean, Dr. Ferrell.’
I’ve been informed that I can now perform
minimally invasive surgery at any time or
any place, even if people don’t want it.
In fact, I am legally obligated to perform
minor surgery at the end of today’s ceremonies,
or my doctor’s degree will be revoked.
So if anyone has a sore tooth that needs to
be removed or wants hernia surgery, please
meet me at the “surgery center” – by
“surgery center” I mean a windowless van
I have parked over by the Coliseum.
The next time I’m flying and they ask if
there’s a doctor on board, I can now confidently
leap to my feet and scream, ‘I’m a doctor,
what can I do?
Yes, no problem, I can absolutely deliver
that baby.’
Hopefully it will be on United Airlines, in
which I will be immediately be subdued and
dragged off the aircraft, which we all know
will be recorded on someone’s iPhone and
put on YouTube.
You will hear me say, “Call Max Nikias,
President of USC.
He told me I’m a doctor.’
Rest assured, President Nikias, I will use
my powers wisely.
Although this is my first commencement address
I have delivered to an actual university,
this is not my first commencement speech.
The institutions to which I have spoken at
previously include Bryman School of Nursing,
DeVry Technical School, Debbie Dudeson School
of Trucking, University of Phoenix, Hollywood
DJ Academy and Trump University.
I am still waiting to get paid from Trump
University.
In fact, it turns out I owe Trump University
money for the honor to speak at Trump University.
You are the graduating class of 2017.
And by every statistical analysis you are
collectively considered the strongest class
ever to graduate from this university.
All of you have excelled in various courses
of study.
All of you, except for four students.
And you know exactly who you are.
If you would care to stand and reveal yourself
right now, that would be great, those four
students.
There’s one.
Two.
Three, four, five, six, eight, more like 20.
Very honest of you.
It is incredibly surreal, one might even say
unbelievable, that I get to deliver this address
to you.
As a freshman in the fall of 1986, if you
were to come up to me and say that in the
year 2017 you, Will Ferrell, will be delivering
the commencement address for USC, I would
have hugged you with tears in my eyes.
I then would have asked this person from the
future, ‘Does that mean I graduated?’
‘Yes, you did,’ says the person from the
future.
‘What else can you tell me about the future?’
Future person turns to me and says, ‘I can
tell you that you will become one of the most
famous alumni in this university, mentioned
in the same breath as John Wayne, Neil Armstrong
and Rob Kardashian.
You will be referenced in rap songs from Kanye
West, to Little Wayne to Drake.
Nas will say, ‘Get me real bonkers like
Will Ferrell on cat tranquilizer.’’
‘Is that it?’
I would ask.
‘Yes, that sums it up.
Except one other thing – in the future there
will be something called Shake Shack.
It will start in New York and then come to
LA and people will wait hours for a milkshake
that is definitely good but not that good
that you should wait two hours.’
So yes, if I had heard all of that I would
have been incredulous at best.
But it turns out I did graduate in 1990 with
a degree in Sports Information.
Yes.
You heard me, Sports Information.
A program so difficult, so arduous, that they
discontinued the major eight years after I
left.
Those of us with Sports Information degrees
are an elite group.
We are like the Navy Seals of USC graduates.
There are very few of us and there was a high
dropout rate.
So I graduate and I immediately get a job
right out of college working for ESPN, right?
Wrong.
No, I moved right back home.
Back home to the mean streets of Irvine, California.
Yes.
Irvine always gets that response.
Pretty great success story, right?
Yeah, I moved back home for a solid two years,
I might add.
And I was lucky, actually.
Lucky that I had a very supportive and understanding
mother, who is sitting out there in the crowd,
who let me move back home.
And she recognized that while I had an interest
in pursuing sportscasting, my gut was telling
me that I really wanted to pursue something
else.
And that something else was comedy.
For you see, the seeds for this journey were
planted right here on this campus.
This campus was a theater or testing lab if
you will.
I was always trying to make my friends laugh
whenever I could find a moment.
I had a work-study job at the humanities audiovisual
department that would allow me to take off
from time to time.
By allow me, I mean I would just leave and
they didn’t notice.
So I would literally leave my job if I knew
friends were attending class close by and
crash a lecture while in character.
My good buddy Emil, who’s also here today
– Emil, in the house – Emil told me one
day that I should crash his Thematic Options
literature class one day.
So I cobbled together a janitor’s outfit
complete with work gloves, safety goggles,
a dangling lit cigarette, and a bucket full
of cleaning supplies.
And then I proceeded to walk into the class,
interrupting the lecture, informing the professor
that I’d just been sent from Physical Plant
to clean up a student’s vomit.
True story.
What Emil neglected to tell me was that the
professor of his class was Ronald Gottesman,
a professor who co-edited the Norton Anthology
of American literature.
Needless to say a big-time guy.
A month after visiting my friend’s class
as a janitor, I was walking through the campus
when someone grabbed me by the shoulder and
it was Ron Gottesman.
I thought for sure he was going to tell me
to never do that again.
Instead what he told me was that he loved
my barging in on his class and that he thought
it was one of the funniest things he’d ever
seen and would I please do it again?
So on invitation from Professor Gottesman
I would barge in on his lecture class from
time to time as the guy from Physical Plant
coming by to check on things, and the professor
would joyfully play along.
One time I got my hands on a power drill and
I just stood outside the classroom door operating
the drill
for a good minute.
Unbeknownst to me, Professor Gottesman was
wondering aloud to his class, ‘I wonder
if we’re about to get a visit from our Physical
Plant guy?’
I then walked in as if on cue and the whole
class erupted in laughter.
After leaving, Professor Gottesman then weaved
the surprise visit into his lecture on Walt
Whitman and the Leaves of Grass.
Moments like these encouraged me to think
maybe I was funny to whole groups of people
who didn’t know me, and this wonderful professor
had no idea how his encouragement of me — to
come and interrupt his class no less — was
enough to give myself permission to be silly
and weird.
My senior year I would discover a comedy and
improv troupe called the Groundlings located
on Melrose Avenue.
This was the theater company and school that
gave the starts to Laraine Newman, Phil Hartman,
John Lovitz, Pee Wee Herman, Conan O’Brien,
Lisa Kudrow to name a few.
Later it would become my home where I would
meet the likes of Chris Kattan, Cheri O’Teri,
Ana Gasteyer, Chris Parnell, Maya Rudolph,
Will Forte and Kristin Wiig.
I went to one of their shows during the spring
semester of my senior year and in fact got
pulled up onstage during an audience participation
sketch.
I was so afraid and awestruck at what the
actors were doing that I didn’t utter a
word.
And even in this moment of abject fear and
total failure I found it to be thrilling to
be on that stage.
I then knew I wanted to be a comedic actor.
So starting in the fall of 1991, for the next
three and a half years I was taking classes
and performing in various shows at the Groundlings
and around Los Angeles.
I was even trying my hand at stand-up comedy.
Not great stand-up, mind you, but enough material
to get myself up in front of strangers.
I would work the phones to invite all my SC
friends to places like Nino’s Italian Restaurant
in Long Beach, the San Juan Depot in San Juan,
Capistrano, and the Cannery in Newport Beach.
And those members of my Trojan family would
always show up.
My stand-up act was based mostly on material
derived from watching old episodes of Star
Trek.
My opening joke was to sing the opening theme
to Star Trek.
[Sings]
Thank you.
Not even funny, just weird.
But I didn’t care, I was just trying to
throw as many darts at the dart board, hoping
that one would eventually stick.
Now don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t extremely
confident that I would succeed during this
time period, and after moving back to LA there
were many a night where in my LA apartment,
I would sit down to a meal of spaghetti topped
with mustard, with only $20 in my checking
account and I would think to myself, ‘Oh
well I can always be a substitute schoolteacher.’
And yes, I was afraid.
You’re never not afraid.
I’m still afraid.
I was afraid to write this speech.
And now, I’m just realizing how many people
are watching me right now, and it’s scary.
Can you please look away while I deliver the
rest of the speech?
But my fear of failure never approached in
magnitude my fear of what if.
What if I never tried at all?
By the spring of 1995 producers from Saturday
Night Live had come to see the current show
at the Groundlings.
After two harrowing auditions and two meetings
with executive producer Lorne Michaels, which
all took place over the course of six weeks,
I got the word I was hired to the cast of
Saturday Night Live for the ‘95-‘96 season.
I couldn’t believe it.
And even though I went on to enjoy seven seasons
on the show, it was rocky beginning for me.
After my first show, one reviewer referred
to me as ‘the most annoying newcomer of
the new cast.’
Someone showed this to me and I promptly put
it up on the wall in my office, reminding
myself that to some people I will be annoying.
Some people will not think I’m funny, and
that that’s okay.
One woman wrote to me and said she hated my
portrayal of George W. Bush.
It was mean-spirited, not funny and besides
you have a fat face.
I wrote her back and I said, I appreciate
your letter and she was entitled to her opinion,
but that my job as a comedian especially on
a show like Saturday Night Live was to hold
up a mirror to our political leaders and engage
from time to time in satirical reflection.
As for my fat face, you are 100% right.
I’m trying to work on that.
Please don’t hesitate to write me again
if you feel like I’ve lost some weight in
my face.
The venerable television critic for the Washington
Post Tom Shales came up to me during my last
season of the show.
He told me congratulations on my time at the
show and then he apologized for things he
had written about me in some of his early
reviews of my work.
I paused for a second before I spoke, and
then I said, ‘How dare you, you son of a
bitch?’
I could tell this startled him, and then I
told him I was kidding, and that I’d never
read any of his reviews.
It was true, I hadn’t read his reviews.
In fact I didn’t read any reviews because
once again, I was too busy throwing darts
at the dartboard, all the while facing my
fears.
Even as I left SNL, none of the studios were
willing to take a chance on me as a comedy
star.
It took us three years of shopping Anchorman
around before anyone would make it.
When I left SNL all I really had was a movie
called Old School that wouldn’t be released
for another year, and a sub-par script that
needed a huge rewrite about a man raised by
elves at the North Pole.
Even now I still lose out on parts that I
want so desperately.
My most painful example was losing the role
of Queen Elizabeth in the film The Queen.
Apparently it came down to two actors, myself
and Helen Mirren.
The rest is history.
Dame Helen Mirren, you stole my Oscar!
Now one may look at me as having great success,
which I have in the strictest sense of the
word, and don’t get me wrong, I love what
I do and I feel so fortunate to get to entertain
people.
But to me, my definition of success is my
16-and-a-half-year marriage to my beautiful
and talented wife, Vivica.
Success are my three amazing sons, Magnus,
13, Matthias, 10 and Axel age 7.
Right there, stand up guys, take a bow, there
you go.
Success to me is my involvement in the charity
Cancer for College, which gives college scholarships
to cancer survivors, started by my great friend
and SC alum Craig Pollard, a two-time cancer
survivor himself, who thought of the charity
while we were fraternity brothers at the Delt
house, up on West Adams.
Craig was also one of the members of my Trojan
family sitting front-and-center at my bad
stand-up comedy shows, cheering me on.
No matter how cliché it may sound you will
never truly be successful until you learn
to give beyond yourself.
Empathy and kindness are the true signs of
emotional intelligence, and that’s what
Viv and I try to teach our boys.
Hey Matthias, get your hands of Axel right
now!
Stop it.
I can see you.
Okay?
Dr. Ferrell’s watching you.
To those of you graduates sitting out there
who have a pretty good idea of what you’d
like to do with your life, congratulations.
For many of you who maybe don’t have it
all figured out, it’s okay.
That’s the same chair that I sat in.
Enjoy the process of your search without succumbing
to the pressure of the result.
Trust your gut, keep throwing darts at the
dartboard.
Don’t listen to the critics and you will
figure it out.
Class of 2017, I just want you to know you
will never be alone on whatever path you may
choose.
If you do have a moment where you feel a little
down just think of the support you have from
this great Trojan family and imagine me, literally
picture my face, singing this song gently
into your ear: If I should stay, I would only
be in your way.
So I’ll go, but I know, I’ll think of
you every step of the way.
And I will always love you, will always love
you, will always love you, Class of 2017.
And I will always love you.
Thank you, fight on!