There's Something About Mary

The first time I saw this movie was at my 11th or 12th birthday party, where we rented this flick as well as Jason Goes To Hell: The Final Friday. To be honest, I'm surprised that any of my friends were allowed to come over after that, but I'm sure that that party, and my chill parents, helped boost my social standing in elementary school.

So it's been over a decade since I saw this movie, and it's been pretty entrenched in my brain as being a solidly funny film. This view was further re-affirmed in reading Roger Ebert's book Your Movie Sucks, wherein he blasts every raunch comedy for not being as funny as There's Something About Mary. So, at least to me, this film has developed a kind of revered status that made me nervous to watch it.

When I did, I was
1) disappointed that I didn't love it in the way that I thought I did
2) relieved to realize that I had learned to love it in a whole new way
and
3) really worried about what the movie was saying.

Allow me to explain.

The people that I was watching it, who had never seen it before, were underwhelmed. They laughed at key parts, but overall, thought that the movie was flat. For the most part, I don't disagree, however, the slow-moving, unfunny parts are, for the most part, necessary for moving the plot forward in order to get to the better gags. This isn't Family Guy, there aren't any cutaways scenes of randomness. The humour of the film is closely tied to the story it tells, with most of comedy coming from dark jokes born out of unfortunate situations.

Then again, there's a limit to how far you can stretch your thought processes. You have to pay attention in order to find the jokes funny, but you get into dangerous territory if you look too deeply.

Take the movie's treatment of mental unhealth, for instance. To start with, you've got Warren, Mary's developmentally-challenged brother. Early in the movie, we see him mistreated, and used as the butt of someone's joke. When Ted (Ben Stiller) intervenes, we're supposed to see him as a hero, and we're supposed to be on his side because of the cruelty of manipulating someone's disability. Fantastic. So we have a moral compass to guide us. We continue to love Ted because of his unrelenting patience toward Warren, even if it means incurring a lot of unintentional physical trauma.

It's a different story, however, when Pat (Matt Dillon) is playing football with Warren and the rest of his support group. It's funny (and I'll admit that I laughed) to see Pat going balls-out, knocking handicapped opponents left and right. So how does that work, that we're supposed to condemn cruelty toward the infirmed while at the same time laughing when they're treated with inconsideration? I imagine the answer lies somewhere in the actual location of the joke (the first instance isn't funny because it's meant to be cruel, the second is funny because the joke is actually about Pat's inability to be anything other than his overzealous self, despite his opponents), but it's an incredibly thin grey line that the movie is walking.

And then there's Harland Williams' hitchhiker character. For my money, this scene is the funniest in the movie. Hearing the hitchhiker ramble on, eventually just sputtering nonsense is really amusing to watch. Even later, when we find out that he was a serial killer, we laugh because of how crazy the situation is. In any other context, though, the idea of an escaped mental patient with homicidal tendencies would be appalling, not funny. It could be argued that this shows great skill on the part of the film-makers, allowing us to laugh at the unfunny and the taboo. I wouldn't go so far as the call it an irresponsible treatment of the subject matter, but, as I said before, the grey gets pretty thin.

And what about the romantic plot itself? The title suggests that there's something intangible about Mary, the girl who everybody falls in love with. I agree with Ted when, at the end, he suggests that no one is actually in love with Mary, but rather how she makes them feel about themselves. The reason she is able to do so is because of her own character flaws, not because of any kind of virtue on her part. She's a master enabler, forgiving anything but the most enormous character flaws (she falls for Pat despite his repeated use of the word "retard," the aforementioned football scene, and an admitted lack of real attraction. The "something" about Mary is that she's messed up enough, but held together enough, to maintain the illusion of being a fantasy girl while still seeming attainable to even the most pathetic, troubled suitor.

And what the hell is up with Dom? Dom (Chris Elliott), who turns out to be a mysterious ex-boyfriend from high school is not only the aggressor in what's supposed to be a funny scene where he attempts to rape (psych! he actually just wants to steal her shoe) Mary, he is also supposed to represent the ideal relationship. Ted expresses immense jealousy toward Dom's white-picket-fence life. After Dom's wife insists on making Ted and Dom cookies, Ted claims "that's what I want!" apparently meaning that he wants Mary to be a subservient domestic, catering to him and his buddies while they sit on the porch drinking beer. There's even a scene later where Dom sees Ted being arrested on Cops, where he cries out in surprise, to have his wife (previously off-screen) temporarily cease her blowjob in order to discuss the circumstances. I guess that scene exists for the sake of deepening the Mary mystique (she must be special if he's willing to leave THAT), but it ultimately proposes an unhealthy, one-sided idea of ideal romantic life. As often as Warren gets knocked over, Dom's wife is probably the biggest victim of the movie.

I still think There's Something About Mary is funny, even with the questionable stuff. Keith David's role at the beginning, Ben Stiller crying at the end, and the dog-shocking scene stand out as particularly memorable ones, but the Farrellys have created a movie that is chock full of dangerous ideas and unintentional self-loathing.