ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: FRIDAY, July 29, 1994                   TAG: 9407290053
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: BARRY KOLTNOW ORANGE COUNTY (CALIF.) REGISTER
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Long


CARREY-ING ON

Four years ago, when he was a rising young comic actor thought by many to be on the verge of career breakthrough, a determined Jim Carrey sat down and wrote himself a check for $10 million.

He scribbled on the bottom of the check, ``For acting services rendered'' then tucked the check in his wallet. It was one of those admirable but often useless attempts at self-inspiration.

On a recent Sunday afternoon, sitting in his Los Angeles hotel suite, Carrey twisted around his body to expose his back pocket, which he patted confidently.

``I still have that check today,'' he said with a sly smile.

The significance of his anecdote, of course, is that Carrey is now able to cash that check. And the reason he can cash it is that Carrey, 32, stood Hollywood on its collective ear this year with his surprise hit ``Ace Ventura: Pet Detective.'' The comedy was panned by almost every critic in the country, but it opened big and went on to make $70 million.

Carrey, best known then as the white male cast member on the mostly black ensemble TV show ``In Living Color,'' made only $350,000 as the star of the movie - a paltry sum by Hollywood standards. And he already had signed for $450,000 to do his follow-up film, ``The Mask,'' which opens today.

But on the strength of ``Ace Ventura,'' Carrey's agents demanded - and got - $7 million for his next film, ``Dumb and Dumber.'' There are rumors of a $10 million payday for an ``Ace Ventura'' sequel.

``When I wrote that check, it wasn't about the money,'' Carrey said. ``It was a message to myself that if I was making that kind of money, I knew I had to be one of the top guys.

``The only worry I have now, with everybody talking about my salary all the time, is that people will start thinking of me as a check and not as a character. I don't want people to be unable to lose themselves in my movies because all they're thinking about is the money I'm being paid.

``I don't want to get to the point where audiences are evaluating whether that last joke was worth what I'm making.''

If the pressure of his salary was not enough of a burden, Carrey is faced now with the pressure caused by a serious buzz around the movie industry that ``The Mask'' could be one of the summer's biggest hits. Critics even seem to like this one.

In this case, the film might be worthy of the hype. Carrey plays the quintessential nice guy, a bank clerk named Stanley Ipkiss, the classic doormat when it comes to women and bosses and auto mechanics and ... well ... life.

Then he finds a mysterious, ancient mask that turns him into a superhuman, supercool, snappy-dressing, man about town who, with the help of state-of-the-art computer animation, can go where only cartoon characters have gone before.

``Although it was sheer hell putting on the mask every day for four hours, it was so liberating as an actor,'' Carrey said. ``As actors, we put on masks all the time by assuming our character's identity, but then to be able to put on a mask on top of that mask was exhilarating.

``But I also liked the metaphor inherent in the movie. There is a definite message in there about the masks we all put on every day.

``Everybody wants to be perceived as being so cool that they're untouched by life. Everybody wants to be perceived as Mr. Winner. I'm no different than anyone in that respect.''

Well, this Mr. Winner started out looking more like a future Mr. Loser through circumstances way beyond his control.

Born and raised outside Toronto, Carrey was forced to quit school at 15 and work in a factory when his father lost his job and his mother took ill. The family lived in tents for a while and eventually relocated into a camper.

While at the factory, Carrey started performing at a Toronto comedy club and, in 1981, decided it was time to move to Los Angeles to pursue a show business career.

``The only pressures I felt then were from my family,'' he said. ``They'd say things like, `Steve Martin has a college degree and you may not be educated enough to make it.'

``That one kind of scared me, but then I realized that every career is different and what was good for Steve Martin might not be good for me.'' His rubbery face and dead-on impressions served him well on the stand-up circuit and landed him the ``In Living Color'' slot as well as small roles in movies such as ``Earth Girls Are Easy,'' ``Peggy Sue Got Married'' and ``Once Bitten.''

Then the script for ``Ace Ventura'' came along.

``I hated the script, and the only reason I accepted it was that they let me rewrite it,'' he said. ``At the very least, I figured it was a writing exercise. It was a chance to learn something, that's all.''

Carrey was appearing in Chicago the night ``Ace Ventura'' opened, and he compared the excitement level to that of an election night.

``It was unbelievable,'' he said. ``There had been some decent projections of how it would do, but then it went through the roof [$12.6 million that first weekend and No.1 at the box office]. The studio people went out of their minds.''

Still, Carrey was stung by the wrath of the critics, whom he believed missed the point of the movie.

``What the critics missed was that they didn't give us any credit for trying something different, which is practically unheard of in this town. These critics are the first to complain about comedic formulas and then they attack us for being different.

``But my philosophy is that if you make hard comedic choices, you're going to make enemies. There are people who are going to hate you for it and people who are going to love you for it. But the people who hate you are a good reminder to keep your feet on the ground.''



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