Me, Myself & Irene

Directed by: Peter Farrelly

RS: Not Rated

2000 Comedy

Me, Myself and Irene, a hell-raising piece of comedy heaven from directors Bobby and Peter Farrelly, stars Jim Carrey as Charlie Baileygates, a Rhode Island cop and single dad to a set of black triplets. Don't ask. Without blowing the surprises, here's a teaser: Charlie's bride, Layla (Traylor Howard), runs off with the midget, Mensa-smart black chauffeur (Tony Cox) who fathered her triplet sons. Good-natured Charlie willingly raises the boys, geniuses all, despite Charlie's insistence that they dress and talk street. Their nightly ritual is crowding on the sofa with Dad to watch TV. White-bread sitcoms prompt no reaction, but Chris Rock stirs mass whooping: "That motherfucker is funny."

Carrey and the triplets are more than funny; they are fall-down, flat-out hilarious. Am I bothered that the boys -- Jamaal (Anthony Anderson), Lee Harvey (Mongo Brownlee) and Shonte Jr. (Jerod Mixon) -- are supposed to be fifteen and yet are played by actors whose ages range from eighteen to nearly thirty? Please. This is Farrelly territory; anything goes. The boys love their dad, even when he sets rules ("No bitches in the room after eleven"). When Charlie's in trouble, his sons are there for him.

And Charlie does get into trouble. Folks in town take advantage -- parking violators make him move their cars. So nice-guy Charlie develops an alter ego: Hank, a boozing, head-busting dude with 'tude, the kind of stud who sucks the tits of a breast-feeding mother and then proudly displays a milk mustache. Conflict kicks in when Charlie and Hank fall for Irene (the delectable Rene Zellweger), a felon being chased by cops (Chris Cooper, Richard Jenkins) who ought to be chased themselves.

Look, I haven't mentioned Whitey the albino (Michael Bowman), the chicken up a guy's ass, the cow that won't die and Irene's kinky one-nighter with Hank. Those scenes can make you sick laughing or just make you sick. Don't worry if Me, Myself and Irene outdoes Dumb and Dumber, Kingpin and There's Something About Mary in mad-dog comic anarchy; enjoy the flick for being irresistibly deranged. The Farrellys originally wrote the script in 1990. But when Carrey nibbled, they gave it a polish with pal Mike Cerrone. Good thing: Carrey + the Farrelly brothers = comedy combustion. He seems to be having almost as good a time as we are with this fiendishly comic riff on Jekyll and Hyde. Without meaning to, Carrey can suck all the oxygen out of a movie, choking off other actors. But this time he also strikes sweet chords with Zellweger and the triplets. To save their schizo dad, the boys steal a chopper and learn to fly by reading the manual, in German, yet. You can wait around and hope, but there won't be a funnier movie about freaks, geeks and fatherhood this summer.

PETER TRAVERS
(RS 844/45)