In 1998 a camera crew trailed Jim Carrey as he method-acted his way into the mind of Andy Kaufmann. The result is insightful, inane and wildly entertaining

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During the filming of Man on the Moon, director Milos Forman had a phone call with his star, Jim Carrey, to complain about two unwanted people who kept appearing on set. “Well, we can fire them, and I can do an impersonation,” Carrey countered. Forman realised this wasn’t a good idea.

The two nuisances were Andy Kaufman, long dead, and Tony Clifton, who never existed. Carrey, who claimed to not be there himself, was portraying them both in the 1998 biopic of Kaufman. He was so committed to method acting that he would only work “as Andy” or “as Tony”, which is annoying enough, but when you factor in that Kaufman and his creation Clifton were intentional agents of chaos, you can see how it could be a recipe for trouble.

Carrey had a documentary crew follow him around during the production, and their footage has been sitting on a shelf for nearly 20 years. Knitting this footage together along with a present-day interview with a bearded, philosophical Carrey, director Chris Smith (American Movie) has all the elements of an inquiry into the madness behind fame, art, performance and the issue of when a joke has gone “too far”.

He doesn’t quite succeed. But the consolation prize is that (hold on for this title) Jim & Andy: The Great Beyond – The Story of Jim Carey & Andy Kaufman With a Very Special, Contractually Obligated Mention of Tony Clifton is an extremely watchable movie. It isn’t nearly as deep as it thinks it is, but it is marvellously entertaining.

For a start, we get Carrey, today, speaking to us via interrotron and looking a lot like late-period Jim Morrison. At first, his recollection of his early career is lucid, but when he starts giving rich, psychoanalytical readings of his 90s comedies, and discussing how an artist has to live “up here” at all times, it’s clear that he’s gone a little off the rails. Unless he just wants us to think that…

The material of him on set is unbelievable. Watch him annoy the hair and makeup people with loud music, watch him crash cars on the lot and trespass into Steven Spielberg’s office. Gaze on with wonder as this pompous and very talented clown refuses to answer to the name Jim. Co-star Danny DeVito thinks it’s funny but Judd Hirsch is just not having it. When Kaufman’s foe, wrestler Jerry Lawler, comes to set playing himself, all hell breaks loose. Carrey refuses to break character, and it results in an injury. (Maybe – who knows if any of this is real?) Forman looks exasperated, but Carrey is the star and if this is what Carrey sees as his process, Forman will have to put up with it.

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Carrey looks back on all this as if he’s got some pan-dimensional connection to Kaufman, and his seriousness is incredible. By the end of this documentary Carrey is so in awe at his own acting he suggests he could become anyone and have people believe it – even Jesus Christ.

Smith offers no pushback, nor does he interview anyone else who was witness to all this. As such, it’s a Jim Carrey vanity piece, even if the actor comes off as – to quote a studio boss who wanted Carrey to stop filming – “an asshole”. Whether you agree with that assessment will depend on how much you buy what Carrey is selling.