Dumb and Dumber
Dumb & Dumber: The Definitive Guide to Idiocy That Somehow Works
Ah, Dumb & Dumber. One approaches a film with such a title with a certain trepidation, a pre-emptive sigh. Is it a self-fulfilling prophecy, a warning label rather than a descriptive one? In the case of Peter Farrelly and Bobby Farrelly's 1994 cinematic excursion into the lowest common denominator, the answer, surprisingly, is both yes and no. It is, undeniably, dumb. But it is also, in its own peculiar, relentless way, rather brilliant.
The plot, if one can dignify it with such a term, is a mere clothesline upon which to hang a series of increasingly absurd and genuinely idiotic gags. Lloyd Christmas (Jim Carrey), a limousine driver, and Harry Dunne (Jeff Daniels), a dog groomer, are two men whose intellectual faculties appear to have been permanently stunted somewhere around the age of six. They embark on a cross-country odyssey to Aspen, Colorado, to return a briefcase full of money to the beautiful Mary Swanson (Lauren Holly), whom Lloyd has instantly, and quite delusionally, fallen for. Unbeknownst to them, the briefcase is ransom money, and they are pursued by a collection of dim-witted criminals who are, remarkably, only marginally more competent than our heroes.
What elevates Dumb & Dumber from mere slapstick inanity to something approaching a cultural phenomenon is the sheer, unadulterated commitment of its two leads. Jim Carrey, fresh off "Ace Ventura" and "The Mask," is a whirling dervish of rubber-faced contortions and manic energy. His Lloyd is a creature of pure id, driven by impulse and an unwavering belief in his own misguided logic. It's a performance that, while broad to the point of caricature, is executed with such fearless abandon that one can't help but be captivated, if not entirely appalled.
But the true revelation here is Jeff Daniels. Known for more serious, dramatic roles, Daniels plunges headfirst into the abyss of Harry Dunne's profound stupidity with a quiet dignity that is, frankly, astounding. He is the perfect foil to Carrey's flamboyant lunacy, providing a grounded, albeit equally moronic, counterpoint. Their chemistry is undeniable, a symbiotic relationship of shared brain-cell deficiency that makes their ridiculous journey oddly endearing. They are, in essence, a two-man wrecking crew of social graces and common sense, leaving a trail of bewildered onlookers and shattered expectations in their wake.
The Farrelly brothers, in their directorial debut, display a nascent talent for mining humor from the grotesque and the profoundly uncomfortable. The film is replete with moments designed to make you wince even as you laugh: a disastrous bout of Montezuma's Revenge, a rather unfortunate incident involving a snow owl, and a truly horrifying amount of bodily fluids. It's crude, it's juvenile, and it revels in its own tastelessness. And yet, there's an undeniable charm to its relentless pursuit of the ridiculous.
Dumb & Dumber is not a film that will win awards for its profound insights into the human condition, nor will it be studied in film schools for its nuanced narrative structure. It is, quite simply, a comedy about two very, very stupid men doing very, very stupid things. But in its unapologetic embrace of its own premise, in the fearless performances of Carrey and Daniels, and in the Farrellys' willingness to push the boundaries of good taste, it achieves a kind of idiotic grandeur. It's a film that demands you turn off your brain and simply surrender to the absurdity. And for those willing to take that plunge, it offers a surprisingly rewarding, if utterly brainless, ride. It is, in its own peculiar way, a triumph of the truly, gloriously dumb.
Ah, Dumb & Dumber. One approaches a film with such a title with a certain trepidation, a pre-emptive sigh. Is it a self-fulfilling prophecy, a warning label rather than a descriptive one? In the case of Peter Farrelly and Bobby Farrelly's 1994 cinematic excursion into the lowest common denominator, the answer, surprisingly, is both yes and no. It is, undeniably, dumb. But it is also, in its own peculiar, relentless way, rather brilliant.
The plot, if one can dignify it with such a term, is a mere clothesline upon which to hang a series of increasingly absurd and genuinely idiotic gags. Lloyd Christmas (Jim Carrey), a limousine driver, and Harry Dunne (Jeff Daniels), a dog groomer, are two men whose intellectual faculties appear to have been permanently stunted somewhere around the age of six. They embark on a cross-country odyssey to Aspen, Colorado, to return a briefcase full of money to the beautiful Mary Swanson (Lauren Holly), whom Lloyd has instantly, and quite delusionally, fallen for. Unbeknownst to them, the briefcase is ransom money, and they are pursued by a collection of dim-witted criminals who are, remarkably, only marginally more competent than our heroes.
What elevates Dumb & Dumber from mere slapstick inanity to something approaching a cultural phenomenon is the sheer, unadulterated commitment of its two leads. Jim Carrey, fresh off "Ace Ventura" and "The Mask," is a whirling dervish of rubber-faced contortions and manic energy. His Lloyd is a creature of pure id, driven by impulse and an unwavering belief in his own misguided logic. It's a performance that, while broad to the point of caricature, is executed with such fearless abandon that one can't help but be captivated, if not entirely appalled.
But the true revelation here is Jeff Daniels. Known for more serious, dramatic roles, Daniels plunges headfirst into the abyss of Harry Dunne's profound stupidity with a quiet dignity that is, frankly, astounding. He is the perfect foil to Carrey's flamboyant lunacy, providing a grounded, albeit equally moronic, counterpoint. Their chemistry is undeniable, a symbiotic relationship of shared brain-cell deficiency that makes their ridiculous journey oddly endearing. They are, in essence, a two-man wrecking crew of social graces and common sense, leaving a trail of bewildered onlookers and shattered expectations in their wake.
The Farrelly brothers, in their directorial debut, display a nascent talent for mining humor from the grotesque and the profoundly uncomfortable. The film is replete with moments designed to make you wince even as you laugh: a disastrous bout of Montezuma's Revenge, a rather unfortunate incident involving a snow owl, and a truly horrifying amount of bodily fluids. It's crude, it's juvenile, and it revels in its own tastelessness. And yet, there's an undeniable charm to its relentless pursuit of the ridiculous.
Dumb & Dumber is not a film that will win awards for its profound insights into the human condition, nor will it be studied in film schools for its nuanced narrative structure. It is, quite simply, a comedy about two very, very stupid men doing very, very stupid things. But in its unapologetic embrace of its own premise, in the fearless performances of Carrey and Daniels, and in the Farrellys' willingness to push the boundaries of good taste, it achieves a kind of idiotic grandeur. It's a film that demands you turn off your brain and simply surrender to the absurdity. And for those willing to take that plunge, it offers a surprisingly rewarding, if utterly brainless, ride. It is, in its own peculiar way, a triumph of the truly, gloriously dumb.
Mini Review: Dumb & Dumber: The Definitive Guide to Idiocy That Somehow WorksAh, Dumb & Dumber. One approaches a film with such a title with a certain trepidation, a pre-emptive sigh. Is it a self-fulfilling prophecy, a warning label rather than a descriptive one? In the case of Peter Farrelly and Bobby Farrelly's 1994 cinematic excursion into the lowest common denominator, the answer, surprisingly, is both yes and no. It is, undeniably, dumb. But it is...