Once upon a time, I really thought Jim Carrey was funny.
He had a spectrum of characters on In Living Color, and both Ace Ventura films were a hoot (see what I did there). The Mask and Dumb and Dumber were practically (or actually) tailor-made for him, and Liar Liar was the pièce de résistence for that phase of his career.
But then came The Truman Show and Man on the Moon, and things started to get tricky. He couldn’t quite go back to wacky. I wasn’t too big a fan of Me, Myself & Irene (although I blame that more on my waning Farrelly Brothers sensibilities). Bruce Almighty was all-righty then, and at that point, boom goes the dynamite. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind erases every Grinch, every Majestic, every Cable Guy, and every Riddler,
So what’s he to do? His adult fare no longer fared well (Fun with Dick and Jane, The Number 23, Yes Man, I Love You Phillip Morris), whereas his kid-schtick (Lemony Snicket, Horton Hears a Who?, A Christmas Carol)… did marginally better?
So his latest offering, Mr. Popper’s Penguins, should be of no surprise:
Once upon a time, I thought Kevin James was funny. Not really. I really liked him in Hitch, though, and I guess he was okay on The King of Queens (my problems were more with Leah Remini and Jerry Stiller). Paul Blart: Mall Cop felt like a plain donut after watching the insane Observe and Report, and Grown Ups frankly sucked balls.
But James is in a movie with animals, too, and it only illustrates how far Jim Carrey has fallen. See the talking feces fest here:
Which one wins this Awful Battle?