Anyone who has seen the Farrelly brothers' films knows they're not for the easily offended. From urine-drinking and diarrhoea (Dumb and Dumber) to bull's semen and prosthetic limbs (Kingpin), not to mention horrendous genital accidents and new kinds of hair gel (There's Something About Mary), Bobby and Peter Farrelly have relentlessly pushed the boundaries of good taste, and created a whole new sub-genre of American cinema: the gross-out comedy.
The Farrellys' latest film, Me, Myself and Irene, is no different. Albinos, African-Americans and midgets all get the Farrelly treatment in this tale of a Rhode Island policeman (Jim Carrey) who suffers from "advanced delusionary schizophrenia with involuntary narcissistic rage". Animal rights activists are unlikely to be impressed by a scene in which Carrey shoots a cow six times in the head, then strangles it.
The Farrellys' love of scatology is reaffirmed when their hero pulls down his trousers to defecate on his neighbour's lawn, while in another scene he grabs a suckling baby from its mother's breast and settles in for a good feed of milk. But none of this has raised as much controversy as the film's depiction of schizophrenia, itself in the central gag of the story. When Charlie (Carrey's character) doesn't take his medication, he metamorphoses into Hank, a violent sadist who gets into fights, insults everyone and demonstrates an alarmingly unrestrained libido. Mental health campaigners have protested at Me, Myself and Irene's misleading portrayal of schizophrenia as Jekyll-and-Hyde split personality disorder involving uncontrollable violence. According to a survey by the support group Schizophrenia Ireland (SI), 66 per cent of Irish people between the ages of 15 and 34 (the target audience for the film) believe schizophrenia is split personality.
"Me, Myself, and Irene is not a film about schizophrenia," says Orla O'Neill of Schizophrenia Ireland. "Schizophrenia is not split personality. It is a mental illness that impairs a person's ability to think clearly and relate to others. The vast majority of people with mental illness are not violent and one in five Irish people will be affected by a mental illness at some point in their lives."
The dictionary definition of schizophrenia (from the Greek, skhizein, "to split" and phren, "mind") agrees with that of SI, although some, such as the New Oxford Dictionary of English, append the secondary meaning of "a mentality or approach characterised by inconsistent or contradictory elements". This is the definition which has landed some journalists and commentators (including this one) in trouble when applied - inappropriately according to the SI - to political parties, broadcasting organisations and so on. The speed and vehemence of the complaints about such perceived "misuses" have increased in recent years, suggesting a concerted campaign on the issue.
This writer, for one, doesn't take kindly to being told which words he can or cannot use. When I suggest to O'Neill that many words have more than one meaning, and that "schizophrenic" is a useful and legitimate adjective in its secondary sense, she argues: "Words such as `retard' and `spastic' are not acceptable any longer, and we're trying to do the same with this. Yes, colloquially the word is used like that, but we would argue that it always has a negative meaning."
Of course, the acceptable boundaries of language and imagery are constantly changing, but the idea of fractured identity and multiple personality has a particularly strong hold in cinema. It's hard to imagine the films of Alfred Hitchcock without it. Madness, personality disorders and psychoses of various kinds are the stuff of a thousand 1990s serial-killer movies.
It's this fixing on the mentally ill as a useful "other" to be demonised or laughed at which concerns mental health campaigners. In Canada, the protests against Me, My- self and Irene were given added force by a recent wave of vicious attacks - including one killing - on homeless schizophrenics.
But then, the Farrelly brothers make a point of insulting everyone, and it's precisely that scorning of PC attitudes which has made them so popular with cinema-goers.
"We have a lot of friends with disabilities," says Peter Farrelly. "And we put all our friends - disabled and not disabled - in our films". It's certainly true that a lot more physically and mentally disabled people show up in the background of a Farrelly production than in most other movies, and that they're not afraid of making jokes which most film-makers wouldn't dare attempt. (Think of the scene in There's Something About Mary where the bad guy steamrolls over the football team from the special-needs school, crowing "not so special now").
It's always rather suspicious when people decide to protest about a film or other work of art which they haven't seen. But according to O'Neill, that's not her fault. She claims the film's distributors, Twentieth Century Fox, prevented representatives of SI from viewing Me, Myself and Irene in advance of its release. She says Fox had agreed that four SI representatives could attend the official press preview in the Savoy Cinema in Dublin on Friday, September 8th. When they arrived at the Savoy at 10.30 a.m., the cinema was closed and dark. Only then were they told the preview had been rescheduled for the previous Wednesday.
O'Neill also says she was told a promotional screening of the film, which took place this week at another Dublin cinema, was "all booked up". A spokesperson for Twentieth Century Fox declined to comment.
It probably doesn't help that Me, Myself and Irene just isn't as funny or as charming as There's Something About Mary or Dumb and Dumber, or that its promotional campaign was so crass - personalised "pill bottles" with jelly beans inside and posters featuring the tagline "From Gentle to Mental" figured large.
In Ireland, film censor Sheamus Smith has given the movie an 18s certificate - "the highest in the English-speaking world," O'Neill claims (the cert in the UK is 15s). Smith has also forced Fox to withdraw the "From Gentle to Mental" line from publicity material. O'Neill points out that Schizophrenia Ireland doesn't want to see Me, Myself and Irene banned, but it wants Fox to issue a disclaimer at the start of the film, "stating what schizophrenia is and where help and information can be received". It has also asked the company to donate the proceeds of the film in Ireland to a public awareness campaign about living and coping with schizophrenia. Fox has not responded to these demands, and it seems unlikely it will.
O'Neill accepts that the protests may attract even further publicity (such as this very article) for the film, but believes the risk is worthwhile. "It may seem acceptable to make fun of this," she says. "But you go to a film with somebody who has schizophrenia, and see if they laugh at it . . . A comedy that similarly took on cancer and AIDS would never be tolerated. Twentieth Century Fox and the rest of the entertainment industry must learn that this exploitation of mental illness is unacceptable."
Me, Myself and Irene opens next Friday