Our night had been a fun one, and instead of heading back out to start things up anew after dinner, we headed home to relax, watch movies, and wind down for a good night’s sleep.  I lobbied hard to watch a particular documentary I wanted to see, but the women in our crew wanted something light.  Something easy.  Something requiring minimal effort to enjoy but which provided the maximum entertainment value for that effort.

Luckily for us, There’s Something About Mary was on cable.

You may not have seen this film in a while.  It still holds up.  The jokes are timeless, the sight gags elicit giggles, and the broader themes do not show the slightest wear.  The pulse-of-the-nation things that everyone talked about in the wake of the film’s release (hair gel, fake teeth, and Brett Favre coming out of nowhere in the final reel), usually the most awkward parts of movies ten years on (“Show me the money,” anyone?), continue to entertain. 

The film is special.  For the phenomenon it was when it came out, There’s Something About Mary has matured like a fine wine, no easy task for American comedies (I won’t get into specifics, except to ask you to review the Adam Sandler canon and look inside yourself afterward).  It’s on cable quite often, and I highly recommend you check it out sometime.  You will not find a better, more plausible, or more enjoyable example of this style of movie anywhere else.

Furthermore, the movie’s lack of fear directly addressing the mentally-handicapped (an issue near and dear to the Farrelly Brother’s hearts – both work with and contribute to the Special Olympics) lends the story an alarming emotional honesty that frightened many at the time but now stands as an example of graceful engagement with a touchy subject.  It was one of the first movies I can remember that portrayed handicapped people as handicapped people, and not ones with hearts of gold.  This subplot keeps the movie fresh, so many years down the road.  You would think a framework had been established, but only the Farrellys (with The Ringer) have had the balls to broach the subject in a similar manner since.

It has a lot going for it, and when the movie came out eleven years ago it launched the leads, Ben Stiller and Cameron Diaz, to worldwide superstardom; it bought Matt Dillon a little more time as a big name Hollywood star; it nudged Chris Elliot up the supporting player totem pole; and it established the Farrelly Brothers as American comedy masters.  Everybody must have felt great upon the hydrogen bomb-like effect There’s Something About Mary’s release had on American culture, and with good reason.

The only problem is every single one of their careers peaked with this movie.

I’m not trying to claim any curse, either.  Nothing terribly bad has happened to any of these people.  They’ve simply aged, and none very well.  Cameron Diaz never looked so desirable as she did while playing Mary; she’s since gone on to embarrass herself any number of times, both in dreadful movies and while preaching about Global Warming (“It’s so crazy how much everyone can do to help…”).  Ben Stiller had the world in the palm of his hand after Mary; he’s since gone on to cater to the lowest common denominator many times over, and regardless of his box office receipts he’s appeared in one too many insipid comedies to be taken seriously (if he were to stick with movies of the Tropic Thunder ilk, all would be forgiven, but the Night at the Museum sequels beckon).  The Farrelly Brothers have not become the Coens of Comedy like many predicted, having been sidetracked by poor taste (the incest-tastic Say It Isn’t So) and poor judgment (Stuck on You proved that, while the idea of grown-up Siamese twins engaged in slapstick antics may sound hilarious, it’s actually kind of horrifying to see).

Matt Dillon appears, at long last, to be a dick who takes himself too seriously, and this costs him opportunities.  Chris Elliot is a sort of frantic one-trick pony who needs exactly the right kind of gig to shine (something he was given with Mary).  The guys with the guitars, the film’s Greek chorus, were never stars in the first place, and they have gone on to niche popularity with what I’m told is a clever, obtuse live show, one that plays small bars filled with the curious and the intrepid.

$370 million worldwide is nothing to take for granted.  The filmmakers recouped over sixteen times their initial investment while simultaneously capturing a sliver of zeitgeist.  But aside from Jeffrey Tambor, who appears briefly and serves little purpose, nobody’s career ever again reached the pinnacle attained with There’s Something About Mary.  Even Brett Favre never again won an MVP or played in another Super Bowl.

Watching the movie is something akin to watching the items in a time capsule jump up and do a dance routine.  There is a perfect image frozen in time, of America at the end of the century, before the Internet and cell phones became ubiquitous but after Sportscenter did, before Ben Stiller began falling backward on “awkward Jew” shtick and Cameron Diaz got played out by, among other things, the Charlie’s Angels movies.

Quite simply, when a movie nails it, which doesn’t happen as often as it could, you just know.  All movies try for something eternal, and almost all come up short.  There’s Something About Mary does not. 

That fact that no one involved will ever top their involvement with this movie made in 1998 shouldn’t take anything away from the fact that they killed it with this particular movie.  Going forward, I might never get excited to head to the multiplex to watch Ben Stiller, and the Farrellys may never toe the line separating what’s funny from what’s perverse so perfectly, but they got it right that one time.  All creative people should be so lucky.