Donovan's Me Myself & Irene ReviewSubmitted by ryandonovan at 2000-07-07 11:02:39 EDT
Rating: 1.0 on 2 ratings (2 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
DONOVAN’S ME MYSELF & IRENE REVIEW
Rating: 2 out of 5
The Farrelly Brothers have finally gone too far. They have crossed the line of good taste and caused irreparable damage. I’m not easily offended, but this time, they’ve done it. Most things I’m okay with. Bowel movement? Cool. Farm animal humor? Love it. Belittling the elderly? Big fan. Prosthetic semen? Hysterical. Making fun of the handicapped? I dig it. Racist jokes? Rock on. Flatulence? Five squared. Taking advantage of the mentally disabled? Bring it. Violence toward children? Right on. Raunchy sexual perversion? Can’t get enough. But what are they doing now? Poking fun of albinos. Can you believe it? POKING FUN OF ALBINOS! In the their latest film, Me Myself & Irene, the Farrellys relentlessly mock a paleface compadre until it feels like a hate crime, just because he’s white. Really, really, really, really white. As a pasty Irishman myself, I am deeply hurt and offended. They don’t understand the plight of my people, yet they feel perfectly comfortable ridiculing us. Do they know what it’s like to need SPF 45 every time they step outdoors? Did their biology teacher ever tell them to take off their shirts in front of the class so everyone could observe the Circulatory System? Have they ever been hospitalized due to an allergic reaction to a sunburn? It’s pretty hard to laugh when you’re covered head to toe in blisters. Ha, ha, ha, Farrelly fuckers.
Once you get past the senseless degrading of the pigmentally-challenged, how was the rest of the movie? Well, it was funny, but overall disappointing. It fell considerably short of There’s Something About Mary and Dumb And Dumber, more on par with Kingpin. While there were some parts that were hysterical, you won’t exactly give yourself hemorrhoids from laughing too hard. The gags just didn’t make up for the worthlessness of the story.
The big question going in for me was “After stepping away from comedy to fail at serious and faux-emotional fare, will Jim Carrey be able to get back to his side-splitting antics?” Well, the answer is “It is decidedly not so.” Don’t get me wrong; he delivered some yucks, but I was hoping for non-stop comedy. In my opinion, he has still never topped the original Ace Ventura. But in his defense, he pulled off some great split personality I-Am-My-Own-Worst-Enemy fighting, rivaling that of Edward Norton from Fight Club.
Renee Zellweger didn’t quite do it either. She lacked the consummate inlovewithable qualities of Cameron Diaz from There’s Something About Mary. She didn’t even come close to the numbingly charming and subtly dazzling out-of-nowhere knockout character she played in Jerry Maguire. In fact, she was rather dull. It seemed as if she needed a nap, and a brush for her ratty hair. Looks like Renee’s real-life alcoholism is starting to take its toll. But I suppose if you’re screwing Jim Carrey, you don’t have to look good. On the positive side, she provided the priceless, unintentional comedic gem of the film (watch closely, because it’s easy to miss): After the scene where she and Carrey try to jump on the moving train, look for the sweat stain down the asscrack of her capri pants. There’s nothing sexier than a girl with swamp-ass.
The best characters were Carrey’s three sons, played to near-perfection by Anthony Anderson, Mongo Brownlee, and Jerod Mixon. As the only supply of highbrow humor, they were both funny and magnetic, but they were used sparingly. There was potential for so much more, and thus they unwittingly served as the unfortunate metaphor for the entire film. If it’s any consolation, the phoenix rising out of the ashes of this movie is the rumor that the Farrellys are scripting a vehicle revolving around the three brothers.
It’s hard to discuss this movie without giving kudos to the Late-80’s-Hockey-Player mullet sported by Daniel Greene (as Zellweger’s ex-lover). Great mulletude.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a Farrelly movie without some random sports stars. This time the spotlight was on Cam Neely, Brendan Shanahan, and Anna Kournikova, to name a few. All you pedaphelian cyber-masturbators out there will be disappointed by Ms. KourniHOva’s performance. She had an alarmingly mannish voice, and she dressed conservatively. Personally, if she’s not sweaty and prancing around on a tennis court with her skirt flying up and her panties riding up her buttocks, then I don’t give a rat’s ass.
So, bottom line, should you see Me Myself & Irene? If you’re looking for a comedy at the multiplex, then yes. Sadly, it’s the best comedy out right now. If you cherish your sanity, see it instead of Shanghai Noon, another failed attempt by indie superstar Owen Wilson to launch into mainstreamity (see: Anaconda, Armageddon, The Haunting). Otherwise, it’s a Brew ‘N’ Viewing.
In front of Me Myself & Irene, I saw a preview for Bedazzled that went something like this:
"In this fresh comedy, Brendan Fraser stars as a hopeless lovelorn geek..."
THIS COULD BE THE WORST MOVIE EVER.
"...and Elizabeth Hurley stars..."
THIS MOVIE COULD BE OKAY.
"...as the Devil."
THIS COULD BE THE BEST MOVIE EVER.