ME, MYSELF AND IRENE (2000)

Grade: C-

Director: The Farrely Brothers

Screenplay: The Farrely Brothers, Mike Cerrone

Starring: Jim Carrey, Renee Zellweger, Anthony Anderson, Mongo Brownlee, Jerod Mixon, Robert Forester, Michael Bowman, Rob Moran, Richard Jenkins, Tony Cox

Success may be one of the worst things that can be thrust upon talent. Before it's thrown at those commonly insecure artists, they work tirelessly, hungry for just a taste, just a bit of recognition, though once they get it they occasionally become bloated with over praise, convinced their every indulgence is brilliance, they assume everything they shit turns to gold and sometimes they loose exactly what brought them all the acclaim. Sometimes it takes a couple failures to bring them kicking and screaming back into reality. George Lucas should know this well (at least let's hope he learns it by the time he begins filming EPISODE 2); THE PHANTOM MENACE didn't come from that struggling, dorky artist, it came from a very well fed, filthy rich man looking for even more dough ("ooh, Taco Bell tie ins, sign me up immediately…"). The Yes men and women flank these artists, engorging their egos, maybe secretly wishing them failure, or just hoping some of that seemingly unstoppable success will rub off. The Farrely's most likely have many of these leeches in their lives, and ME MYSELF AND IRENE makes it appear entirely possible that they've been convinced that they're funny no matter what they do.

The brothers began as writers who took a stab at film making with DUMB AND DUMBER, a broad comedy that found enormous success, though nearly all its praise was launched on to Jim Carrey, who, at the time, was scoring hit after hit with a series of mediocre comedies (Adam Sandler does this now, only unlike Carrey or the Farrelys, he never seemed to be trying). Despite the hit, the Farrely's nonetheless encountered difficulties with getting another film rolling and when they did manage to get one made it was stupidly dropped directly into the August dead zone with little promotion. That was KINGPIN, a film I consider to be equal to (maybe even a tad better than) THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT MARY.

Eager to prove themselves, next they snatched up a long-shelved screenplay that nobody wanted (according to studio execs this was a script that even Stephan Baldwin would turn down), injecting it with their own brand of comic anarchy, and thus birthing THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT MARY. As a somewhat edgy slapstick comedy, MARY is near perfection, for it didn't just present us with gross out gags like this summer's ROAD TRIP, which is chock full of erect penises yet does absolutely nada with them, it allowed its bawdy laughs to rise steadily, squeezing every possible giggle out of those well timed comic set pieces.

The Farrely's were heralded as comic geniuses, and as it goes in Hollywood, one of their own shelved projects (a project nobody cared for pre-MARY) went into production. I write of their autobiographical script (based on the novel they wrote), OUTSIDE PROVIDENCE, a choppy coming of age dramedy that, in its final incarnation, felt incomplete in every way, failed to elicit laughs, or provide any genuine feeling (save for Alec Baldwin's strangely touching performance… "strangely" because he was made to play such a moronic caricature). Okay, so they didn't direct that one, maybe the script was golden and the director screwed it up. (Highly plausible considering that that film's director was Michael Corrente, he who helmed the look-ma-I'm Scorsese borefest FEDERAL HILL, and the glorified feature length actor's workshop AMERICAN BUFFALO). Though with ME, MYSELF AND IRENE mirroring that film's lousy sense of pacing, it looks as if they actually might be at least partly to blame for OUTSIDE PROVIDENCE enabling me to believe that, at least for now, the Farrely Brothers are as bloated as Lucas. And while Lucas relied on state of the art effects in his epic of yawn inducing proportions, the Farrely's rely on Jim Carrey's wacky "charm", which, this time out isn't such a bright idea.

As you've likely gathered from the previews, Carrey plays a two people stuck in one Rhode Island cop's body; Charlie, who is Carrey in all his eager to please Truman Burbank-esque sincerity, and the other, Hank, a supremely annoying lout whose appearances are presumed to be the film's comic highlights, instead they drag the proceedings down into CABLE GUY-like indulgence. In fact the character of Hank is a bit like an unholy melding of Carrey's most grating creation, the Cable Guy, and an equally grating impersonation of a devilish Clint Eastwood. Renee Zelwegger plays the petulant Irene who was unlucky enough to witness a fraud perpetrated by her ex. She's apprehended and must be transferred to upstate New York where she'll be questioned by investigators regarding her involvement. Charlie is brought in to escort her. Along the way, Charlie loses the medication that's supposed to suppress his alter ego Hank, which means whenever Carrey gets bonked in the head, nuts, stomach, anywhere, he switches into either Hank or Charile. (Which cannot be scientifically sound, it nonetheless provides sufficient laughs or groans depending on how nonsensical you like your comedy).

As a performer Carrey elicits two reactions from me. One is that of a truly a brilliant envelope-pushing comic and maybe even a complex figure (that of a sad clown who puts on a happy face to mask his insecurities). However the other is an irritating class-clown\show-off who'll do anything, anything, for some kind of reaction. People may argue that that's part of what makes his brand of comedy so brilliant, but I disagree. No disrespect to Andy Kaufman fans but from what I can gather from that "revolutionary comic" (this isn't much considering I've only seen some brief bits of TAXI episodes on late night cable, usually while in the midst of scouring my Satellite for soft core pornography, and yes, I also sat through one of those addictive E! TRUE HOLLYWOOD STORIES on the man, as well as MAN ON THE MOON, of course) but I never really "got" what made him so brilliant. His schtick seemed clearly more geared at playing a ruse on his audiences, for his own amusement, rather than being a performer that amuses others. Yes, maybe this is progressive in a way considering that Tom Green pulls similar (though more mainstream) antics on his MTV show, turning the audience into clowns rather than being the clown, but when you come to a Carnegie Hall performance with nothing planned but to simply read THE GREAT GATSBY (which Kaufman did) what exactly are you trying to prove; that you can get audiences to pay for anything? Yeah, and what's that worth? Beating an audience over the head with your "undisciplined creativity" isn't always much fun for the audience, I mean, did anyone see Steven Soderbergh's SCHIZOPOLIS. Carrey may be the human equivalent of that particular movie (and maybe so are the Farrley's), which is to say that sometimes he's inspired (usually when playing exaggerated yet still grounded caricatures) other times he seems to be on a creative free fall, sweating and shouting like a psychotic child aching for attention. This is usually what we get when Carrey is given an alter ego, like Hank in this film, a character who comes across as more cruel than funny.

In a scene that I think is supposed to mirror the bathroom bit in LIAR LIAR, Carrey fights himself as both Hank and Charlie surface simultaneously. The scene goes on interminably turning into what could be labeled comic sadism or comic masturbation; frenetic bawdiness tossed at the audience with hopes that something, anything will stick. It's the comic equivalent to a Jerry Bruckheimer (GONE IN SIXTY SECONDS) noisemaker.

The usually competent Renee Zellweger is no help either. Despite that a relationship between her and Carrey developed while filming, they don't appear to have one iota of chemistry. It's as if both performers are too involved in themselves to even acknowledge and inter act with the other. Zellweger mostly squints her eyes and patters in her cotton candy affect, followed by a quick pout of her cherry red lips. The only performers that impressed me at all were Anthony Anderson, Mongo Brownlee, and Jerod Mixon who play Charlie's three black sons (I'm not in the mood, so don't even ask). It's a mildly original touch that doesn't seem as overdone or crazily manic as most of the labored comedy we get here.

And what would a Farrelys movie be without some animal cruelty? In this one it's a cow that gets all the abuse in a scene that veers between being pretty damn funny and just plain uncomfortable. Most of the film just left me uncomfortable, and itching for it all to end. The Farrely's show a little of their comic greatness in early brief bits (most involving the black sons and Carry's attempts to relate to them i.e. "No bitches after 11:00"), but so much more left me cold. Oddly enough, this belly flop might be exactly what the Farrely's need. Come on guys, get the hunger back, it's time for another THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT MARY or KINGPIN. Hell, even a DUMB AND DUMBER would suffice.

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