Constantly repressing one’s true feelings can be very dangerous. Charlie Baileygates (Jim Carrey) doesn’t realize this until it’s almost too late. In Me, Myself & Irene, he starts out as a friendly, mild-mannered policeman. Unfortunately, everyone takes advantage of Charlie’s good nature. After receiving a low-key warning about being illegally parked, the car’s owner tells Charlie to move it himself. A little girl refuses his courteous request to stop jumping rope in the street. And, worst of all, Charlie’s wife runs away with the African-American driver of their wedding limousine, leaving him with three very dark-skinned boys to raise. But Charlie calmly accepts everything. Then one day something strange happens. A foul-mouthed, aggressive personality named Hank takes over Charlie’s body. Voila! The tree of repression bears its sour fruit.

With sometimes uncanny results, Carrey (Man on the Moon) uses his rubber face, double-jointed limbs, and innate comedic ability to make both Charlie and Hank come to life on screen. He is hilarious depicting Charlie’s dry-mouthed reaction to medication and Hank’s "beef" with a frightened young boy in a diner. When both Charlie and Hank fall for Irene (Renee Zellweger from Jerry Maguire) a woman who needs police protection, Carrey manages to interact with her as two very different types of men. However, this is not Carrey at his best. Hank’s voice comes across more like laryngitis than machismo. In addition, the fight scenes between Charlie and Hank are too over-the-top --- not nearly as convincing as Edward Norton’s similar bout in Fight Club.

Directed and written by the notorious Farrelly brothers (Peter and Bobby), Me, Myself & Irene doesn’t match There’s Something about Mary, their previous box office success, for laughs and surprises. But it surpasses that outrageous comedy in terms of gross-out scenes. (You didn’t think that was possible? Well, you’re wrong.) A grotesque chicken prank, the painful aftermath of kinky sex, and a nursing mother straight out of a porno version of Grapes of Wrath are featured in sequences that "push the envelope" of bad taste too far.

One of the most objectionable aspects of Me, Myself & Irene involves its obsession with African-American stereotypes. Actors playing the black triplets Charlie accepts as his sons (Anthony Anderson, Mongo Brownlee, and Jerod Mixen) say the "mf" word more times than all the actors in Shaft combined. Everyone in the movie seems to take such language for granted, especially the doting father. Overdone and unfunny, this running joke falls as flat as Roseanne’s rendition of our national anthem.

It’s also disappointing to see fine actors like Chris Cooper (Lone Star) and Robert Forster (Jackie Brown) misused in throwaway roles. Cooper, appearing briefly as a corrupt lawman, displays little emotion in this unsympathetic part. Forster shows a bit more depth as Charlie’s worried supervisor, but he has very few scenes. On the other hand, Zellweger’s Irene should give a boost to her career. She’s quite believable as a woman fascinated by Charlie’s Jekyll-Hyde predicament. Her amazement at Hank’s outlandish behavior seems genuine, lending credence to their scenes together.

As a result of his adventures with Hank and Irene, Charlie learns the importance of being true to himself. He knows he can’t keep anger bottled up anymore or ignore unpleasant situations. He realizes that a healthy personality needs balance. Despite all its grossness, Me, Myself & Irene emphasizes this humanistic lesson. Go figure!

(Released by 20^th Century Fox and rated "R" for crude humor, sexual content, strong language, and some violence).