Jim Carrey movies will knock the doldrums out of the most miserable of malcontents. How can you stay mad at your mate, or continue to obsess about work politics or insist on calculating the grocery receipt again cause you’re sure they overcharged you for that can of peas when Jim Carrey is farting or making a facial gesture that is unlike any other from any other comic alive?

Jim Carrey movies are silly, empty (sometimes), and not for the erudite (snotty). His comedies anyway. The Cable Guy, which still gets referred to as a failure (screw those box office figures), is included in the films that are quirky, clever (how many light-hearted stalker films—guy stalking guy—have you found funny?), and engaging. Matthew Broderick alone as the ah-me Eyore victim type, Steven M. Kovacs, is worth paying heed.

Other fun Jim Carrey movies include The Mask, which has rendered our slang a whole new set of words to toss about; Dumb and Dumber, which is at least a convincing performance for one who is so bright and witty, really; and Liar, Liar, which is one of the funniest of all of Jim Carrey’s movies, with his sarcastic secretary and the adorable kid included.

But we should also give nods to Jim Carrey’s sober movies, the movies that give him the role of straight man who is a sympathetic character in a serious conflict that either endures, gets resolved by the end of two hours, or leaves one thinking and remembering the film long after. The first that comes to mind is The Truman Show, which of course comes close to home for those of us who understand the future is here—with its surveillance cameras joining forces with popular entertainment forms (reality TV).

The next that deserves mention is Carrey’s stunning rendition of Joel Barish, the lad who has committed to going through with a mind-washing to erase the girlfriend/boyfriend relationship completely out of mind and out of existence. This storyline, existential at best, devastatingly evocative at worst—or most depressing—sees Carrey in one his most poignant performances ever.

But one more reason to see Jim Carrey movies—besides having seen him on IN Living Color and having fallen in love with his quasi-slapstick, semi-stand-up hilarity—is to know what he regarded his crowning glory. It was not the millions made on his movies. It was not his superior talents. It was his Dad—the blue collar worker whom Carrey adored and spoke of often in interviews. And as one who visualized making it in the movie biz, Carrey had written out a check to himself (on an index card) for $10 million. He was offered this for The Mask, three days before his dad would die. At the funeral, Carrey slipped the card into his dad’s suit jacket pocket.