One Wired Weirdo -- Actor Jim Carrey's $20-Mill `Cable Guy' Role Hints At A Darker Side To The Doughface

The curious case of comedian Jim Carrey - idiot extraordinaire and unlikeliest of superstars - is about to get even curiouser.

Carrey's latest film, "The Cable Guy" (opening today), marks a crossroads in the actor's astonishing career: First he was the "token white guy" on TV's "In Living Color." Then he made the jump to movies, where he became the hyperkinetic kid in a grown-up's body whose antics were best enjoyed by those under 12.

Now, Carrey is about to begin his latest metamorphosis. "The Cable Guy" is a step, albeit a slight one, away from his familiar, toothless stooge shtick - and the first indication that Carrey intends to tinker with the formula that made him a modern icon.

"The Cable Guy" is already infamous for setting one record: It marks the first time an actor was paid $20 million to star in a movie, raising the ceiling on Hollywood's top-rank salaries. When news broke of Carrey's mega-payday, actors rang up their agents, demanding equal pay ($20 million is now the standard fee for the likes of Bruce Willis, Sylvester Stallone and Arnold Schwarzenegger). Meanwhile, Hollywood executives shake their heads and grumble whether anyone is really worth that much.

We're betting that come summer's end, most of those same executives will concede Carrey's salary in "The Cable Guy" was money well spent.

"The buzz around the movie is basically bad, but at this point that means precious little," says Leonard Klady, box-office analyst for Variety. "There is an expectation that it will open quite strong. It's not going up against anything that has comparable appeal. It ought to open at No. 1. Then it becomes a question of how well it holds up."

Most industry observers expect "The Cable Guy" to become Carrey's fifth movie in a row to gross over $100 million domestically - following "The Mask," "Dumb and Dumber," "Batman Forever" and "Ace Ventura 2: When Nature Calls." It's an impressive feat not even Willis, Stallone and Schwarzenegger have matched. By keeping the overall "Cable Guy" budget low (the rest of the production cost a total of $20 million), distributor Sony Pictures is likely to make its total investment back - and then some - in a few weeks.

But how long will Carrey remain Hollywood's biggest cash cow - especially since he now seems eager to play down the dumb-guy act? "The Cable Guy" is rumored to showcase a "darker" side of Carrey's talents: He plays a lonely cable TV installer who worms his way into the life of one of his customers (Matthew Broderick) and simply won't leave him alone. It's Ace Ventura as obsessive psychopath: Carrey's manic, frantic antics as weapons of comic terror.

No, "The Cable Guy" is not a horror movie: You can expect lots more of the usual rubbery faces and rapid-fire improvisations. But the film promises to be more in line with Carrey's work in last summer's "Batman Forever," where his typically hysterical performance as the Riddler occasionally struck a disquieting edge of menace. Go back and watch the scene where he destroys the Batcave via rubber duck-bombs, and see if you don't catch a glint of brilliant madness in Carrey's eyes. There are demons stirring within this guy, a great psycho performance lurking.

That's the element "The Cable Guy" plays up to. His performance is a subtle - but significant - veer from "Ace Ventura" and "Dumb and Dumber," where Carrey's ceaseless mugging and comic riffs catered safely to our taste for the sophomoric and the stupid. As wild as those movies were, and as bizarre as Carrey's performances got, the actor never seemed the slightest bit threatening. He was nothing but an oversized kid, the sort who'd do anything - no matter how infantile - for a laugh.

Carrey's appeal is the same as the Three Stooges, vintage Jerry Lewis or early 1980s "wild-and-crazy-guy!"-era Steve Martin. Carrey gives his childish sense of comedy unbridled rein - and then cranks it up to an absurd, relentless pitch. In his movies, Carrey inhabits a separate universe from the rest of us; he's a Looney Tunes character come to life, trampling social etiquette and wreaking havoc while marching along to his own demented beat. Through him, we get to live vicariously and give "civilized" society a much-needed shot of tomfoolery. He's the hero of closet clowns everywhere. Hard not to laugh

Even if you don't find his shtick amusing (and many don't), it's hard to sit through a Carrey vehicle and not find something to make you chuckle. His unending efforts to do anything for a laugh - talking through his behind, trading snot jokes, contorting his face into expressions so severe they look painful - end up eroding whatever gut resistance you may have to histrionics. His humor treads a thin line between hilariously stupid and just stupid, and eventually makes even his detractors laugh.

Of course, the kids love him all the time. Carrey's core audience consists of preteens and young adolescents, who see him as someone who understands - and exalts - the values of bathroom humor and potty jokes. Children see in Carrey an adult who thinks like they do, who engages in the same kind of mischievousness most grown-ups can't tolerate. It was those same kids who gave "Ace Ventura 2: When Nature Calls," an otherwise forgettable sequel, its incredible $40 million opening weekend. The movie doesn't really seem to matter: Just put Carrey in front of a camera, and they will come.

It wasn't always like that. Carrey's first attempt at a film career resulted in little-seen comedies (as a vampire in 1985's "Once Bitten"), small supporting roles (as an alien in 1989's "Earth Girls Are Easy") and rejection (he lost out on a role in 1984's "Sixteen Candles" to Anthony Michael Hall).

Then came "In Living Color." When the TV show debuted on the Fox network in 1990, Carrey was just one member of a large, mostly black, comedy ensemble, but he quickly became one of the series' stars. His ferocious style, which he once described as "Fred Astaire on acid," made his characters (such as the female bodybuilder Vera de Milo) one of the show's biggest draws.

When he turned to movies again, with 1994's "Ace Ventura: Pet Detective," his popularity crossed over with him. Made for a measly $12 million, the movie went on to earn $70 million, and suddenly Carrey was in much demand. He's tapped that same comic gold-mine again and again, with formidable results. At this point, it looks like he could easily play the idiot forever. When he hosted "Saturday Night Live" on May 18, the show achieved its highest ratings of the season. Zany can wear thin

But as indefatigable as Carrey seems, it's only a matter of time before the actor himself tires of the zaniness. In this month's issue of Movieline, Carrey says, "I don't want to lose touch with the funny, but I also want to tell stories. I really want to expand. Or maybe `contract' is a better word for it."

Thus, "The Cable Guy." Carrey describes the movie as "a combination of hilarious and really unsettling. The role itself is very, very funny, but it's deeply disturbing." Next up is "Liar, Liar" (for which he'll get another $20 million), where Carrey plays a conniving divorce lawyer who simply can't tell the truth. There'll be lots of wacky courtroom antics, but there'll be a dramatic subtext, too.

And then Carrey will make his biggest character departure to date, teaming up with respected dramatic director Peter Weir ("Witness," "Dead Poets Society," "Fearless," "Gallipoli") for "The Truman Show," about a man who realizes his entire life is really just part of a television show. Carrey seems aware of the risk involved: He even passed up his usual $20 million fee for a comparatively "modest" $12 million to work with Weir. Will his fans follow him into not-so-dumb territory?

They should - and even if they don't, the actor stands to gain a new crop of fans: Those who find his current humor too jarring. Carrey may well turn out to be much like fellow loose-cannon-funnyman Robin Williams: A comic who is equally at home with drama as he is with infantile comedy. Carrey already proved he's capable of playing it straight-faced in 1992's "Doing Time on Maple Drive," a TV-drama about a dysfunctional family in which he played the alcoholic black sheep.

It was a subtle, surprisingly restrained performance - and indicative of unplumbed depths beneath his seeming one-trick facade. Carrey's brand of comedy is formidably difficult to pull off: The fact he makes it look so easy is proof there might be more to him than noogies and nyuk-nyuks.