About 5 minutes into " I Love You Phillip Morrris" when a handlebar mustachioed character shrieks "Come in my ass. Come in my ass" as Steven Russell (Jim Carey) pounds him from behind, one realizes that any pretext of political correctness has been eschewed in favor of an unPC shock and awe campaign. Russell is a loving husband, dedicated father, and police officer; he's also a closeted gay man. As his world begins to spiral down beginning with a failed reunion with his biological mother, Russell reevaluates his life, and decides to come out as a "faggot".
Off to South Florida he goes to begin life anew. But Russell immediately discovers that any self-respecting Floridian queer has an image to maintain, and takes to petty crime and embezzlement to maintain the lifestyle to which he and new lover Jimmy have become accustomed. Inevitably this leads to prison.
Carey's Steven Russell bears little resemblance to the self-hating alcoholic closeted homo-son he portrayed in the TV movie Doing Time On Maple Drive in the early 1990s. Then, the only good gay was a gay with HIV or a self-loather of the Maple Drive variety. There's something selfish in the way Steven Russell takes to this new lifestyle after a half-life of secrecy. He's making up for lost time and unapologetically goes about getting his fill, world be damned. And that's nice for a change when other real world flaws outshine the flaw of gayness itself and the personal psychic wreckage it supposedly leaves in its wake. That Russell is gay is the least of his concerns.
Once incarcerated, Russell takes to prison life like lube to orifice and soon he's manipulating the penal system as well. These manipulations include the eponymous Phillip Morris, a fellow inmate that he has taken a shine to. Soon the two are bunkmates and romance blossoms.
It comes as no surprise that ILYPM is written and directed by Glenn Ficarra and John Requa, the writers responsible for the bitterly funny and surprisingly sweet 2003 Billy Bob Thornton vehicle Bad Santa. That movie had the magic touch of Director Terry Zwigoff. Here freshman directors Ficarra and Recqua acquit themselves nicely with a sometimes hysterically funny and bizarre script based on a true story, but they never seem able to mold Carey into a fully fleshed character. It's a fun performance, but too external and mannered to be believable.
The curve ball here is Ewan McGreggor as Phillip Morris. A somewhat effeminate wisp of a man with a lilting southern accent and a delicate constitution, Morris is the prisonyard Blanch Dubois. And Steven is all too ready and willing to be the stranger whose kindness Phillip will come to depend upon. What could have been a mincing cliche feels vivid and believable in McGreggor's hands.
ILYPM is no Modern Family for the big screen; deep tongue kisses, dick sucking and conscience-free thievery flourish. We've come a long way baby. Sorta.
Strangely, a narrative voiceover has been added. It reeks of afterthought. It's unnecessary to the film and adds nothing other than an opportunity for Russell to say "I'm really not as awful as I seem" in as many different ways as possible. An apologia for what has transpired.
God forbid a film character should be gay and less than a saint, more than a best friend, and capable of a wide range of behavior separate of butt fucking and circuit parties without having to saying "I'm sorry".
Ultimately the dark sarcastic script prevails, with a third act revelation both absurd, cruel and fittingly appropriate. Like a dish of sweet and sour pork from my third favorite Chinese restaurant, ILYPM filled my tummy (with laughs), but still I felt a little empty and dissatisfied after.
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