The film follows what I have come to believe is Jim Carry's usual trend: his comedy talents are showcased brilliantly under the pretext of a schizo character, but the movie somehow doesn't cut it overall. It is too disjointed, with too many things running in parallel, very few of them really too high on the humor factor.
Carrey's physical twitches aside, Renee Zellweger is absolutely frittered away, serving the vital role of providing that little side-order of chickflick flavor. She is a damsel in distress so haplessly out of options, we are led to believe, that she *must* choose between two equally idiotic choices: the hunky Hank who's perpetually on a cheesy sexual over-drive, or the knuckleheaded yet kind Charlie.
As though the disconcern for a meaningful plot were not bad enough, the movie also wallows in its "politically incorrect" agenda by defining its targeted characters as laughable representations -- a hotheaded dwarf, a timid albino, Charlie's overweight black sons, tortured animals (including a chicken stuffed deep into a man's behind) and a dazed narrator.
What can one say. A passable comedy, probably no more than a rental for an evening when you've plenty to talk with friends alongside the movie.