Movie Review: Me, Myself And Irene (2000)

A simply atrocious comedy, Me, Myself And Irene is an ugly stain in Jim Carrey's repertoire.

Charlie (Carrey) is a mild-mannered Rhode Island state police trooper. His new wife Layla (Traylor Howard) cheats on him with a midget black limousine driver. Even when Layla gives birth to black triplets and subsequently abandons the family, Charlie refuses to show any negative emotion or display anger. Years later and with his sons now foul-mouthed grow-ups, Charlie's bottled up anger snaps out in the form of a split personality. Hank is Charlie's alter-ego and his polar opposite, and emerges at unexpected intervals. Hank is rude, crude, and stands up for himself, seeking revenge on everyone who has disrespected Charlie.

Commanding officer Colonel Partington (Robert Forster) gives Charlie an assignment to transfer prisoner Irene (Renée Zellweger) to upstate New York. Irene is wanted on trumped up hit-and-run charges, but in reality she may have information that endangers the criminal activities of sleazy businessman Dickie (Daniel Greene) and corrupt police officers Gerke (Chris Cooper) and Boshane (Richard Jenkins). Charlie is attracted to Irene, and so is Hank but much less politely. Charlie struggles to contain Hank and soon finds himself on the run with Irene, trying to protect her from the bad guys.

Directed and co-written by the Farrelly brothers Peter and Bobby, Me, Myself And Irene is a lazy, almost insulting excuse for a parade of tiresome jokes directed at the pre-puberty immature boy market. With almost every attempted laugh involving the anus, dildos and combinations thereof, the film wallows in the misery of constipated minds who seem to genuinely believe that this material is funny.

There is no effort to explain the basic mechanics of the plot involving Irene, as the entire road trip is just a sorry backdrop for set-pieces that were not good enough for other movies. The best opportunity for a good laugh, in the shape of an encounter with a cow that refuses to die, could have been funny but is botched into a stupid wrestling match. Elsewhere, midgets, blacks, albinos and Rhode Islanders are mercilessly targeted with tasteless jokes, and its all delivered with a barrage of profanity that underlines the witless writing.

Carrey tries to emerge from the dross and does as best as he can with quick switches between Charlie and Hank, but even he is no match for the ghastliness of the material. Zellweger is generally wasted, while in barely defined roles Forster, Cooper and Jenkins appear mortified to be associated with the project.

Incomprehensibly overlong at close to two hours, Me, Myself And Irene is a nauseatingly interminable bungle.

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