We Need to Talk About Jim Carrey

Either we really are living in the Truman Show or the guy's been replaced.

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I might be the farthest thing from a Hollywood fangirl you’ve ever met. In my estimation, most celebrities fall somewhere on a spectrum that runs from “mostly fake” to “narcissistic, medically tone-deaf, child-molesting scum of the earth.” There are a handful of exceptions, of course—notably the ones who torched their careers by speaking out about the rot in the entertainment industry: Mel Gibson. Jim Caviezel. Corey Feldman. J.K. Rowling. Isaac Kappy (RIP). Sinead O’Connor (ditto). Brendan Fraser. Roseanne Barr. Nicki Minaj. Jim Carrey.

God bless them, literally.

Last week, “Jim Carrey”—quotation marks doing some serious heavy lifting there—made a rare, spotlight appearance at the César Awards (a.k.a. the “French Oscars”) in Paris. He smiled warmly. He worked the red carpet like a pro. He gushingly, gratefully accepted—in perfect French—a lifetime achievement award. He moved his face in ways vaguely reminiscent of Jim Carrey (in the same way Velveeta is vaguely reminiscent of cheese).

Within minutes, the internet collided in historic agreement: That is not Jim Carrey.