I distinctly remember my first viewing of Jim Carrey’s The Mask.
I was in my pre-teens, and my parents had gone out for the night and left me in the care of my babysitter. I now believe she should have her babysitter licence revoked, since she had the bright idea of showing me what I immediately considered, and still consider to this very day, to be a bonafide horror movie.
Like, the kind of deeply unsettling and twisted horror show that not even The Human Centipede could muster.
Flash-forward a decade and I thought I’d escaped The Mask’s lingering omnipresence in my nightmares. No longer did his garish green face materialise behind me in bathroom mirrors, nor did his devilish teeth glint in the smiles of those I love most.
That was, until Carrey rocked up on a red carpet last week with a “new face”, and unlocked a conspiratorial side of the internet hellbent on claiming a body double was wearing his face as a mask. Upon immediate sight of the words “Jim Carrey” and “mask”, I was done for.
Much of my week has now been spent unlearning The Mask scenes I’d spent years suppressing. Suddenly I’m a pre-teen being babysat again, back in front of my DVD player during what I’ll say for dramatic purposes was a thunderstorm happening outside.
As a bit of exposure therapy, I’ll remind you that The Mask follows Carrey as bank teller (and spawn of satan) Stanley Ipkiss. After discovering a grimy wooden mask, Stanley — for reasons unknown — decides to put it on (hygiene is the least of his crimes), at which point he transforms into what the movie’s logline describes as an “eccentric superhero”.
Yes, this movie believes the bright green, horribly dressed and exceedingly attention-seeking creature to be a superhero. What follows is a fever dream of cartoonish exploits as this monster, this boogeyman under your bed, this supernatural incarnation of a bad acid trip, wreaks havoc on his town via reality-bending powers.
If I told you this freak could conjure weapons from thin air, alter reality with cartoons, and confidently compliment himself as “Sssmokin!”, would you believe him to be a superhero?
There are many horrific scenes in this ostensibly comedic movie, but I must cast your minds back to the moment that started it all; the moment that I imagine plays on a loop when you enter the depths of hell. Yes, this movie’s grotesque power is such that you’re condemned to hell by merely watching it. So I’m sorry, but I’ll see all you there.
It’s when Stanley first puts on the mask. I think if he hadn’t, we’d all currently know true peace. But he did, and the horror show that unfolds is grounds enough for a negligence lawsuit against my babysitter.
The head-jerking, the wails, the close-ups of the mask moulding irreversibly onto Stanley’s face, the spine-tingling score, the ultimate reveal of The Mask in his lurid and petrifying final form. All of it fills me with a sense of dread that has darkened my days and irrevocably changed me for the worse. I’m not being dramatic, I have simply never been the same.
Even the movie’s later attempts to make him funny — with CGI-enhanced expressions like overlong tongues and bulging eyes — only work to intensify the sheer freakishness of this beast. He’s like a sleep paralysis demon perched at the end of your bed with a shit-eating grin and an arsenal tasteless catchphrases at his disposal.
Add in the fact that he breaks the fourth-wall, looking directly into camera as if summoning your soul to feast upon, and The Mask is no longer anywhere near the comedy realm. Recut with the right soundtrack, it is a Wes Craven psychological horror produced by Blumhouse.
Much of this boils down to Carrey’s performance. He is excellent in this role. Too excellent. To the point where, way back in my pre-teens, I couldn’t bear to watch any of his other movies out of fear he would inexplicably turn bright green, jump out of the screen, and drag me to whatever madhouse he was cooked up in.
I had to watch Liar Liar through white-knuckles and gritted teeth, even as Jennifer Tilly tried to lure me back with her effervescence. Carrey’s comedic shtick of contorted facial expressions, surreal slapstick and exaggerated voices is rightfully lauded by many, but for me it is perpetually stained in bright green. A stain not even Ace Ventura could spot-clean.
Considering all this, imagine my surprise when I discovered this week that The Mask was originally intended to be a horror movie. Its director, Chuck Russel, who helmed horrors like A Nightmare on Elm Street 3 (I kid you not), originally pitched The Mask as a rival to Freddy Kruger, but changed course once Carrey got on board.
This revelation somewhat eases my fears. Russel, who is just as worthy of that negligence lawsuit, clearly forgot to tone down The Mask’s horror elements, so it’s not as if I’m completely imagining the nightmare that it is. He also cast Cameron Diaz in what was her debut film role, so there’s some redemption there.
So as we pore over conspiracies about Carrey wearing a mask, let us be thankful that it is not the one he wore back in 1994. If Hollywood decides, as it is wont to do, to reboot The Mask, I will consider it a personal attack.
This a warning: if Stanley Ipkiss reappears on screens, I fear there’ll be no going back.
Lead images: New Line Cinema
The post Everyone’s Talking About Jim Carrey’s Face So Let’s Revisit The OG Mask That Terrified Us All appeared first on PEDESTRIAN.TV .
