It was advertised as a comedy, and it featured comedic actors, but the audience wasn't laughing. What many reviewers had initially considered a black mark on Jim Carrey's career turned out to be a lasting cult favorite. It also acts as a predictor of society's often oddly counterproductive way of developing, similar to Idiocracy. While the latter takes an unfortunately accurate stab at our "future" government, The Cable Guy is a much more introspective and lonely look at the way humans make bargains for connection, and how the interpretation of our behavior by others can be very different from how we see our actions ourselves.
The film's original screenplay was written by Lou Holtz Jr., whose father was a writer and actor, and even is credited for writing an episode of The Twilight Zone (I don't know why this feels oddly relevant and necessary to mention - maybe you can figure out the mental connection there). Though the screenplay ultimately passed through a decent amount of hands for a hefty number of rewrites, it seems that his initial intention of keeping it a dark tale stayed true, especially once it merged with the mind of Jim Carrey, who was equally interested in exploring the darker sides of Chip's character.
The inspirations and influences that shaped the film's look and sinister feel were obviously not comedies. They were revenge-stalker dramas like Cape Fear, manipulative psychosexual thrillers like The Hand That Rocks The Cradle, and anxiety-inducing anti-love stories like Repulsion. Very similar to joining two things that seemingly shouldn't go together (dipping your fries in milkshake, adding spicy pickles to your diet coke), I feel it's worth noting most great creative moments come from exploration, play, and just kind of being willing to see what happens. These are qualities that converged in the likes of Judd Apatow, Ben Stiller, Lou Holtz Jr., and Jim Carrey - not to mention the rest of the legitimately star-studded cast. Thank goodness they did, because their risk is most definitely our reward.
I could sit here and take time to try convincing you of the comedic side of the film, but I honestly don't see it needing much push. The average film-observer has likely witnessed a Jim Carrey scene in their lifetime at this point, and much of that is very present in mannerism and vocal-stim compilation inspiration. More so, I'd rather dive into the surprisingly raw and embodied performance of Chip, as well as Broderick's turn as Steven, and how they further the exploration of themes we're facing in our current, more parasocial world.
Within the confines of the film's runtime, we're given a brief glimpse into Chip's childhood. It's clear that the input vs. output of his life is off balance: his mother is neglectful, placing him in front of the glowing babysitter whilst his father is absent, both only to appear with a nasty remark or putdown. It's easy to see who the most comforting presence in this scenario is. Unfortunately, what soothes us is not always reflective or conducive to functioning in reality. Especially considering the programming Chip was downloading via hungry eye on the daily (sitcoms filled with doting mothers and forgiving fathers, silly yet kind neighbors, a reliable laugh track) it's not surprising his interpretation of reality was too idealistic to match the truth around him. With a disconnect between how it feels things should be, and how they really are, it can be hard to even hold a conversation without Chip feeling he doesn't quite fit, despite his outward efforts. But TV? TV is consistent. It's scheduled. It's regulating. The TV can be depended on when yourself and others can not.
Shifting focus to Steven, from the beginning the character is very much in an unsettled place. He's navigating a break up, upon proposing to his girlfriend. One could argue his mismatched view of the world in comparison to his girlfriend's, is not that different from the mismatched view Chip has on Steven. Despite this, Steven still views Chip as an other (a dork, someone beneath him, someone to look down on.) Chances are, if you're going in for a proposal, you're fairly certain the person you're with is equally as invested in the relationship. But that certainty takes intimacy to reach - a quality that both Steven and Chip lack in their attempts at connection, due to living with a sort of notion that if they push hard enough, something will give. Even further in the story, this is doubled-down on when instead of working on himself and attempting to reconnect with her genuinely, Steven instead chooses to parrot advice that Chip (someone he barely knows) tells him is sure to get her back, even though its inauthentic to his own personality.
Steven thinks he loves his girlfriend, so in turn shouldn't that mean, of course, that she also loves him? Chip has an idea of what makes a magnetic friend from exaggerated figures on TV, so when he tries to mimic that and act larger than life, shouldn't that be an attractive quality instead of something viewed as "cringe"?
Things aren't always so simple. Maybe Neil Young knew what he was talking about when he said only love can break your heart. Maybe Jefferson Airplane was seeing in a crystal ball when they preached we all just want - no, need - somebody to love. Somewhere to put it all, in sincere hope that we get it back in return.
Applying all of this to modern times, we face even larger disconnection due to algorithm-centric living than perhaps Chip or Steven did in 1996. While Instagram or TikTok feeds you completely different videos and stories than your neighbor is viewing day to day, the overall worldview becomes less focused on the similarities in our humanity and more dialed to the ways one can contort another's views to match their own. Pull up any app, from Youtube to Twitter, and chances are through ads and influencers you will be told a thousand times a minute how you could improve yourself to reach any desire. Not getting swipes on Tinder? The manosphere will sell you everything from concrete-scented deodorant to dick enlargers to ensure you're irresistible - or worse, provide you with a secret chatroom where other men can inform you on how to use date rape drugs. Upon opening one of these digital-hypno-screens, you may be bombarded by posts confirming that the one thing holding you back from being told you really are beautiful is...a fake nipple bra from Skims? A pill to make you frail enough not to fight back? Maybe some app or talking head even convinced you that money is a much greater pursuit than love or connection with those around you, deepening the pit of isolation. Furthering the need for it's instruction (because if the screen can tell you the answer, what use are people?)
Hmmm...no wonder we all feel so out of sync with our needs, how to communicate them, and how to hold space and consider those outside ourselves.
When Chip first graced screens, his story came off pretty unique (and kind of off-putting). In 2026, when nearly everyone has a growing addiction to a tiny screen that fits in their palm with the ability to show them the version of reality they most desire, how can we bridge this growing gap in connection showcased and somewhat predicted by the film?
My bid is this: through radical, upfront, honest being.
It doesn't do anyone a service to uphold a series of lies in an effort to soothe their awkward experience or differing opinion. In a way, through this covert grasp at controlling the situation, you'd be robbing someone of the truth. Simultaneously, even robbing them of ever truly being able to experience or love you as you are. The blow-out is also inevitable, as the weight of the stacking untruths is rarely one that can be carried for long as it morphs into resentment. Change the channel, tune into your body, and build relationships from that knowing space. In other words: Know yourself, then show yourself, and give others space to show up the same.
Reflecting on The Cable Guy as we celebrate its 30th anniversary, it's easy to see how relevant it still is. So relevant, that a remake has been greenlit in the form of a new Hulu series. With writers zeroing in on male loneliness epidemic themes, it will be joining the equally absurd ranks of Friendship and Fight Club. Will it be as oddly poignant through its comedy like its inspiration? I can only hope, and time can only tell.
Are you a fan of this electrifying cult classic? Interested in seeing it for the first time? Local to Portland, Oregon? Be sure to grab a ticket for the 30th Anniversary Screening presented by Pictureshow Collections at The Academy Theater this Tuesday, September 22nd. There will be a pre-show market at 5:30pm, where very limited commemorative shirts (that glow in the dark!!!) designed by Lowbrow Antics (yours truly!) will be available for purchase ahead of the film at 7:00pm. Tickets Available Here.
As always...
HAVE A NICE DAY, WATCH SOMETHING GOOD.