Susan Granger’s review of “ME, MYSELF AND IRENE” (20th Century-Fox)
This scatological comedy will score at the box-office since there’s definitely an audience for the gross gags and toilet jokes but it’s no “There’s Something About Mary.” Jim Carrey plays Charlie, a mild-mannered Rhode Island state trooper suffering from a split-personality disorder. Flashback 18 years to when his wife left him for the brainy, vertically-challenged limo driver (Tony Cox) who fathered their African-American triplets whom Carrey has raised as a proud, loving father. The boys become rowdy, jive-talking geniuses (Jerod Mixon, Anthony Anderson, Mongo Brownlee) but, having repressed his anger and resentment too long, Charlie’s suddenly got company – a foul-mouthed, aggressive alter ego named Hank. And they’ve both fallen for Renee Zellweger, a feisty, quirky gal who’s on-the-lam from shady EPA investigators (Chris Cooper, Richard Jenkins) in a pointless plot. In the Jekyll-Hyde transformation, “Rip Van Wussy” Carrey cavorts and contorts, much to the amazement of his sympathetic supervisor (Robert Forster) and a psychotic albino (Michael Bowman) who joins the road adventure. Directed and written by Bobby and Peter Farrelly, plus Michael Cerrone, unfortunately this romantic farce lacks the sweetness and outrageous fun of the Farrelly’s earlier films. But they’re still pushing the envelope of bad taste, including a redefinition of “hanky-panky” involving a rubber appliance, chicken-abuse, cow-shooting, reprising Woody Harrelson’s milk-mustache from “Kingpin,” and a unique marriage proposal. And the end credits are novel, citing each and every performer. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Me, Myself and Irene” is a crass, raunchy 4. Like Charlie, this movie is origami – it folds under pressure.
