I was going to post something of a long follow-up to yesterday's post, but I got all depressed just thinking about it, so I am turning to film-crit today as an antidote.
With the exception of his first film vehicle, Ace Centura Pet Detective, most of the major films Jim Carey has done have revolved around issues of identity. Whether it is the inane Liar Liar or the sublime The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Truman Show or the missed opportunity Bruce Almighty, Carey plays characters who wrestle with the question, "Who am I, really?" This was taken to new heights when he played the late Andy Kaufman in Man on the Moon, as Kaufman himself played with identity constantly, even in real life. I want to argue in what follows that the search for identity, as portrayed by Carey at least in his films, is the essential opposite of the general narcissism first analyzed by Christopher Lasch in his best-selling The Culture of Narcissism.
As Lasch describes it, narcissism is the opposite of selfishness, although both the word and his work have too often been misinterpreted this way. Rather than selfishness, narcissism is a character disorder in which the individual's sense of self is actually void. In a desperate search for filling this void, the narcissistic personality seeks to fill this void, the obsessive search leading to "reading into" reality nothing less than a reflection of the empty self of the individual. In other words, a narcissist does not know who he or she is, and compensates by creating a world that fills this void through the externalization of certain wish-fulfillments and desires. The world becomes a mirror of all the individual wishes were true about him- or herself, or conversely believes to be true but is afraid to admit.
Carey's characters, on the other hand, reach a crisis of identity at some point in the film. An amoral attorney is forced to tell the truth; a frustrated local TV news reporter is given the opportunity to be God; a man whose entire life is a television show breaks the bonds placed upon him by the rules of the show; a man discovers that he has used a tool for removing memories of a love-affair. A comedian pushes the boundaries of what constitutes comedy - pushing role-playing into real life. All these roles' create dramatic tension and action by forcing the characters to confront the fact that they are not who they think they are. There are both limits against which an individual should not push - becoming god, removing a part of one's identity in a search for emotional peace - and false limits that inhibit the full realization fo the self - the artifical rules of a television show; the propriety of playing a character off stage. At their best, these films show that what does and does not constitute a "limit" is often unclear the closer one gets to understanding these limits, and this provides a remarkable flexibility as to how one should respond. Andy Kaufman can insist he is someone else - an obnoxious agent, a pro-wrestler - and force others to accept the reality of these characters, even though they know he is "only" acting; Bruce can manipulate reality to fit his own desires through divince powers, only to find that in so doing, he distorts reality (Bruce Almighty could have been a great film if the producers, writers, and director had placed restrictions and discipline upon Carey and upon the story-telling; they did not and the film fails in the end to explore the meaning of what Carey's character experiences); Truman Burbank's world is both smaller and more artificial than he realizes, and rejects the definitions placed upon him by those who seek to control him for entertainment purposes.
Truman's rebellion is the most interesting to me. On the one hand, I have always felt that, having lived within the studio and within the rules set by the studio all his life, his rebellion makes little sense. He has few tools beyond those granted him to understand who he is, where he lives, how he lives, and what constitutes "normal" human behavior and the structure of his surroundings. When confronted with the artificiality of it all, it provokes not a profound ontological crisis and break with the "reality" with which he is faced, but a recognition of its inherent artificiality and a refusal to accept it. I often wonder what Truman does after he walks through that door at the end of the film. What tools does he possess to actually function in society? His resilience in fighting against the limitations of the only world he has ever known would hardly constitute the stuff of which sound living are made.
Despite all his flaws and limitations as a performer, I find Carey's films consistent on one point - the characters he plays do not seek to compensate for a lack of self by projecting onto the world their wishes and/or fears (the exception, I supppose, is The Mask, but even here, Carey rejects the mask and what it means, preferring to be himself even if living so presents a threat to himself) but rather are insistent assertions of the wholeness of the self and its resources, even within limits, in a world where too often such are denied. His characters, as goofy and ridiculous as they are at times, have not only an inner strength, but a certain moral and personal core that is impervious to the assaults of a world that insists that personhood is a construct of social forces, but void in and of and for itself.
In coming back again and again to these themes, one wonders if Carey is not saying something about himself in choosing these roles. Is he showing his own inner strength and centeredness as an individual? Is he giving us, the viewers, an object lesson in what is possible if one denies the deniers? Do we learn about our own strength in the face of the opposite threats to selfhood presented by the limitations placed upon us and the limitlessness of personal development? As to the last, I hope so. A fully-developed personality would be able to hand over divine duties to god in the end without a sigh or whimper. Even a stunted and under-developed personality, constrained by artificiality, if strong and possessing an understanding of self that accepts, in the end, this very artificiality, can win in the end. Losing the memory of a painfully lost romance robs us of part of our identity; pain is as much a part of who we are as pleasure, and choosing an easy way out steals our souls.
I am a reluctant fan of Jim Carey, but, like with Robin Williams, when forced through strong direction and the discipline of good scripts to rein in his own penchant for acting goofy, he provides consistent performances and offers a healthy view of a surprising type - the anti-narcissist struggling against the dicates of a culture that wants us all to be empty vessels. His film carrer is less than two decades old, but I think he has a whole lot left in him, and the possibilities, based upon his previous choices, are very good for all sorts of accolades and honors.
Virtual Tin Cup
