Once you get past the fact that the
new off-beat and very funny gay prison comedy I Love You Phillip Morris is
not a ninety minute stealth cigarette ad, enjoying this mad romp with two of the
screen’s funniest leading men, Jim Carrey and Ewan McGregor, just takes a bit
of relaxing, letting go of all the image conscious pressures about what we’re
suppose to enjoy as a queer audience and allowing ourselves to savor a wildly
improbably love story, with more than a little larceny in its heart.
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Based on the book, I Love You
Phillip Morris: A True Story of Life, Love and Prison Breaks by
Steve McVicker, written for the screen and directed by Glenn Ficarra and John
Requa – the writing team responsible for the Billy Bob Thornton vehicle Bad
Santa – the movie literally begins with a shot of a fluffy white cloud and
then switches to a prison hospital ward where we first meet Steven Jay Russell
(Carrey) who confesses that he’s both dying and eager to explain that this all
began the day he learned he was adopted. Carrey’s naughty little boy narrator
ably greases his story’s weird jump cuts: the kid grows up to be a cop who’s
obsessed with locating his birth mom, who refuses to speak to him, which cuts
to life as a seemingly happily married Christian guy, who has a terrible car
wreak, which prompts an ambulance scene coming out, which leads to a risibly
decadent queer boy living beyond his means lifestyle which leads to a cute meet
moment in the prison law library with the love of his life – this scene unfolds
with delicious aplomb as the men fumble with declarations of love that are
nearly upstaged by their obligatory garish yellow jump suits.
“Why did I have to meet you,
today?”
“Is something wrong?”
“I’m supposed to be transferred to
the Michael Unit, today. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, It’s just across
the yard.”
“Yeah, but I don’t go out in the
yard. Might as well be Oklahoma! It just figures with my luck. You know, I was
born on Friday the thirteenth.”
“Phillip, Friday the thirteenth is
my lucky day. Don’t worry, it’s destiny.”
“But we only just met.”
“There’s about six thousand volts
shooting across this table, here.”
“You’re coming on a little
strong.”
“Just give me a chance to prove
you’re wrong.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”
From this point on the plot of Phillip
Morris dips and dives and hits so many hair pin turns that you may develop
implausible comedy reflux syndrome, but hang in there: as the caption in the
puffy cloud assures us “This really happened, it really did.”
Just as with his early manic gems The
Mask and Liar, Liar, this is Carrey’s movie all the way from loony
asides to the spot on con man assuming any possible role the story demands.
Carrey’s Russell becomes a crackerjack jail house lawyer, who in turn learns to
feign the identity of a criminal court judge who grants himself a huge bail
reduction; a lawyer who springs his honey from the slammer; a corporate
financial wizard who first cooks up a preposterously brilliant resume and then
cooks the company’s books to the tune of almost a million bucks. No sooner does
one hair brain scheme unravel and Carey’s Russell has another and yet another
to fall back on.
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The humor ranges from the witty
fly-by-the- seat-of-your-pants gags that propelled the
Spielberg/DiCaprio/Hanks’ conman classic Catch Me If You Can to the
decidedly politically incorrect hipster banter that fueled Bad Santa. An
un-intended bit of irony forced the filmmakers to apparently tone down the sex
scenes to secure a US distributor: the European version has grossed more than
eighteen million bucks in a handful of countries. By the way, motion
picture rating board hell has also delayed the release of the highly touted
Ryan Gosling/Michelle Williams’ hetero romance on the skids feature Blue
Valentine. This censorship nonsense has got to stop!
Be prepared for some third act
whiplash in a plot twist that involves Carrey faking an HIV death, but if you
haven’t checked out by then you’ll be able to deal.
The filmmakers add a jaunty
pop/disco flavored soundtrack: my favorite riff comes in a crazy montage where
McGregor’s Phillip Morris races through the prison complex to the beat of Barry
Gibb’s To Love Somebody as Russell is being transferred to another unit.
McGregor is amusingly demure as the object of desire, mounting the appropriate
hissy-fits when required, and looking really sporty in those tight little
sweater outfits that only Southern boys, who truly stick to their diets, or a
bad meth habit, can pull off.
If you’ve been waiting for a dizzy,
oddly uplifting comedy romance, where major stars let it all hang out in
service to a decidedly weird true life story, then please don’t miss I Love
You Phillip Morris, coming for at least a week to a theatre near you.