I Love You, Phillip Morris, exemplifies Jim Carrey’s decade-long transition from comedic goofball to charming leading man. In a way, Carrey has been emulating Tom Hanks, who was best known as a comedic actor before melding comedy sincerity in 1988’s Big. From then on, most comedic roles undertaken by Hanks could better be described as dramedies: Sleepless in Seattle, Joe Versus the Volcano, Turner and Hooch, You’ve Got Mail. Unfortunately, Carrey doesn’t seem to have had the same luck with scripts or solicitations. The past decade or so hasn’t been a series of flops – in fact his transition started off promisingly with The Truman Show and the Andy Kaufman biopic Man on the Moon. Both were moderately critically successful, and Carrey won snagged three consecutive Golden Globe Awards for Best Actor in a Comedy. Say what you will about the significance of Golden Globes – or Oscars for that matter – but the consistency with which they’re won does create a bit of clout around a performer. Then, it seems that Carrey hit his dramatic apex in 2004 with Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, a film that gets much less public recognition than it should. But then, for the most part, his roles have been relegated to cookie-cutter scripts that rely on slapstick comedy to pull them through a la Fun With Dick and Jane.
So, it was refreshing to find I Love You Phillip Morris, a 2009 film based on the life of Steven Russell that had a very small release and ultimately became a financial failure (only grossing a little over 2million on a budget of 13million), but one that utilized the charm that Carrey showed in the late nineties and early aughts.
To be fair, the financial failure of this film is not necessarily reflective of its quality but rather of its subject matter: the love connection between two gay men who find each other in prison. The real life Steven Russell is currently serving an “unprecedented life sentence” in the” maximum security Michael Unit, south of Dallas,” but not for murder, rape, or any other capital crime; rather, he’s held in 23-hour-a-day lockdown because he embarrassed the entire Texas prison system by impersonating judges, lawyers and doctors. By planting bogus documents in the system. And by literally walking out the doors of prisons — four different times. Sometimes he even called back afterward, with advice on prison administration” (source).
As Russell maintains, and as the film suggests, his many escapes were out of love for his little girl, a product of his first marriage to Debbie (Leslie Mann) and his love for Phillip (Ewan McGregor). Ostensibly, I Love You, Phillip Morris is a love story about two men. At the same time, the fictional Steven Russell is more than just a love sick genius whose hyperintelligence allays boredom by indulging in criminality. He’s a man essentially stripped of identity. At a young age, Russell, who sits in a small chair facing his parents is told “you’re adopted!” by an older sibling who relishes in announcing this tersely with arms crossed. The animosity in the older sibling’s voice coupled with the silence of his parents makes Russell an outsider in his own family. His refuge becomes lying on a hillside with children, staring up at the sky, pointing out shapes in the clouds. As others find animals and the like, Steven points out “a wiener,” to wit the other children object. However, the following shot is a cloud clearly shaped like the phallus. Thus, Steven is accurate with his assessment of the shape, but learns early on that the cock is taboo, effectively silencing his desires and forcing him to conform to the others.
This point isn’t heavy-handedly laid on the audience. In fact, the continuation of this theme is rather subtle and woven into the fabric of a love story. However, it’s interesting to note that – until Russell becomes super determined just to see Phillip again – he has little agency in his own life, starting from his biological mother’s decision to abandon him “and [keep her] other two children,” despite Russell’s confused declaration on her porch that “I was the middle child” as she closes the doors and goes back to the dinner table.
In the same vein, Russell’s marriage to Debbie seems less of his doing and more of what’s expected. As the piano player in the church choir, Russell is separated from the congregation, but during one performance, Debbie makes eye contact, and in the next scene, they are a couple. Likewise, the sole sex scene between him and Debbie – if it could be called that – is comically uncomfortable as she lays there clothed, horizontally jostled as Russell jackhammers away before breaking into conversation. In other words, intercourse with Debbie is less his desire than hers.
Eventually, their marriage dissolves and Russell moves to Miami to fit into an evidently burgeoning homosexual community, but prior to this, he has to find an exit from his marriage, and this comes in the form of being t-boned by a car as he is returning from a sexual tryst with another man. Therefore, even his decision to come out of the closet is determined by someone else, much is his turn as a lawyer, something impelled by Phillip’s assertion that “Steven’s a litigator.” Lost as a litigator, Russell adopts the image of Gregory Peck’s Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird, suggesting not only his cinema-laden interpretation of reality but also his chameleonic abilities.
Despite the intriguing storyline and decent performances by McGregor, Mann, and Carey, I Love You, Phillip Morris falls short at times because it feels as if it is attempting to emulate Catch Me if You Can, not so much in story but in Russell’s voice-over narration that explains his hijinks. This is a problem from the of the film where there is a dramatic push that prophecies Russell’s death as he lies on a gurney, narrating “love’s the reason I’m laying here dying.” But, because he’s the voiceover throughout the film, the audience instantaneously knows this is a ruse, which makes the last fifteen minutes of the film less heartfelt and endearing and more sluggish in that we’re waiting for his explanation – one that’s fairly transparent.
Another issue with this film is that it takes advantage of “I love you,” a phrase that it repeatedly uttered between Philip and Steven, but one that is not necessarily explained. Why are they drawn to each other? Perhaps Steven’s emotions can be rationalized because he seems to exist in a vacuum, unable to truly connect with anyone, or because Phillip can “only see the good” in people – something that allows Steven to indulge in criminality without judgment — but what of Phillip’s? The attraction between the two is illustrated through notes being passed from cell to cell via orderlies and the like, but the climax to “I love you” is rather sudden and feels forced.
Admittedly, not everything needs to be spelled out completely, but “love” seems to be more of a trigger word for the audience, telling us there are deep emotions here, but in truth, the film’s depiction is rather shallow. The word that should be most recognized is “I,” particularly when it comes from Russell’s mouth. It’s his way of finding and establishing an identity, and Carrey pulls this off nicely, vacillating from charming to endearing, and at times, despicable. Neither he nor directors John Requa and Glenn Ficarra try to absolve Russell of his crimes, though it’s an achievement to polish away some of deviousness.
