There are only two reasons to see the Farrelly brothers' new gross-out comedy Me, Myself & Irene.

Jim Carrey and Jim Carrey.

Without Carrey, this pitiful excuse for low-brow humour would be obscene, racist, sexist, cruel and puerile.

These elements are still present in Me, Myself & Irene, but Carrey takes the edge off them.

He has the amazing ability to bring a kind of sweet, childlike innocence to even the most vulgar moments.

He calms the most dangerous tempests before they can destroy the teapot the Farrelly brothers have created this time around.

That said, if you're not a fan of Carrey's rubber-faced antics, there is absolutely no reason to see Me, Myself & Irene.

This is no There's Something About Mary. It's not simultaneously crass and hysterical.

Charlie Baileygates (Carrey) is a motorcycle officer with the Rhode Island police force.

Charlie is a sweet, wonderful guy who no one respects.

His wife left him with three sons she conceived by the African- American midget who was the chauffeur of their wedding limo.

Everyone in town uses Charlie as a doormat and he accepts the humiliation. But there's a part of Charlie that is determined not to take such abuse for much longer.

Enter Hank. He's Mr. Hyde to Charlie's Dr. Jekyll.

The little girl who swore at Charlie for suggesting she not skip rope on the street now gets dunked in a fountain until she sputters an apology.

With Carrey inhabiting them, Charlie and Hank are so distinct it makes you long for an actual remake of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

The problem is Peter and Bobby Farrelly haven't given Carrey anything remotely inspired to do with his two characters.

They've concocted a hackneyed story of crooked cops with a dastardly mission.

Irene Waters (Renee Zellweger) worked for a mobster who now wants her killed lest she reveal the inner workings of his organization. Irene is placed in Charlie's care, but it's Hank who initially saves her from being terminated. Eventually, it is Charlie who proves to be the real hero.

This thin storyline is an excuse for a seemingly endless series of vulgar jokes.

Charlie's sons may be brilliant, but they still stoop to peppering their dialogue with obscenities that turn them into racial stereotypes.

Far too much of Charlie/Hank's relationship with Irene is sexual or demeaning.

Zellweger tries to rise above the material where she should have taken a cue from Cameron Diaz in Something About Mary and just sunk to its level.

With the Farrellys, it's best just to take the pie in the face, grin and bear it or, for added sexist laughs, bare it.

Carrey's old fans who still want to see him talking out of his butt are going to be thrilled he's taken such a retro step in his career.

It's a shame such a talented actor has to stoop so low to be loved.

It's one thing if you're Adam Sandler or Martin Lawrence and have never risen above your roots, but Carrey has proven he's an Oscar-calibre actor.

He has no business wallowing in the mud just to pad his bank account.

(This film is rated R)

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