Review by Suzie Toumeh
Trigger Warnings from Reviewer?
Profanity, sexual references, intense (accident) scenes, substance use
Age Recommendation from Reviewer?
+12
Reviewer recommends it for...
Fans of Jim Carrey, 2000s comedy lovers, anyone in the mood for a light, silly film that accidentally makes you think.
📖 Plot Summary
Bruce Nolan (Jim Carrey) is a TV reporter who thinks life has it out for him. Spoiler: it doesn’t. He’s just mediocre. He blames God for his problems, so God (Morgan Freeman) decides, “Fine, let’s see if you can do better.” Bruce gets divine powers. What does he do? Fix world hunger? Cure cancer? Nope. He parts tomato soup and makes his dog use the toilet. Eventually, his selfishness wrecks his relationship with his girlfriend Grace (Jennifer Aniston, tragically underutilized) and nearly causes mass chaos. He finally figures out maybe God knows what He’s doing and maybe Bruce should stop being such a narcissistic idiot. Cue redemption, swelling music, and hugs.
Have you ever had one of those days where you’re convinced the universe has a personal vendetta against you? Yup, same! We’ve all been there, shaking our fists at the sky. Bruce Almighty (2003) takes that universal feeling and runs with it, asking a dangerously funny question: What if God actually listened… and then called your bluff? Through Jim Carrey's signature slapstick comedy, the movie tries to explore big philosophical concepts like human ego and power. But does this 2000s comedy still hold up, not just as a laugh factory, but as a sincere work?
We follow Bruce Nolan, a frustrated TV reporter who is not feeling any gratitude & blames God for the mediocre circumstances of his life. God Himself (Morgan Freeman) responds by giving Bruce divine powers. Bruce answers this call with selfish glee, using his abilities for petty revenge on a co-worker and his personal gain. This pattern of selfish behaviour inevitably leads him to the point of total ruin, having lost his girlfriend and caused general chaos in his community, he finally understands that the real power wasn't in control, but in humility, gratitude, and working with a plan larger than his own.
To understand director Tom Shadyac's cleverness, look no further than Bruce's first meeting with God in the "White Building." The scene masterfully subverts our—and Bruce's—expectations of divine grandeur. We see a vast, empty, sterile floor, lit with a clean, corporate light. I felt Bruce's confusion and mounting irritation—a tightness in my chest, waiting for the divine reveal but seeing only a janitor and an electrician. And in that moment, I realized what Shadyac had done. He used our own cinematic expectations against us. By rejecting the cliché of a heavenly throne room, he created disorientation. The reveal of God as the janitor is patient and action-based, not explanatory. And the single, perfect metaphor of the endless filing cabinet conveys the scale of creation and the burden of prayer more effectively than any monologue. Shadyac’s direction is a lesson in intelligent economy, trusting the image and the audience to do the work.
Shadyac’s direction is a lesson in intelligent economy.
The famous "parting of the soup" sequence is a masterclass in using simple shots to drive home both the plot and the jokes. The editing rhythm is perfectly timed: a **close-up on the soup** as it splits, a **cut to Bruce's face** beaming with pride, then a **cut to another customer's face**, utterly irritated. Finally, the master shot places us right at the table for their confrontation. This sequence of shots made me feel like I was at that table, caught between Bruce's divine absurdity and the mundane world's confusion. It’s hilarious, efficient, and brilliant visual storytelling that lays out the entire movie's conflict in under thirty seconds.
In the prayer-inundation scene, the sound design does the heavy lifting. It starts as a distant whisper, then builds into a cacophony of overlapping voices—pleas, cries, mundane requests—all crashing into Bruce’s head. The sensation was one of genuine psychic overload; it felt stressful and almost unbearable. And then… the brilliant pivot. The moment Bruce visualizes the filing cabinets, the chaotic whispers vanish, replaced by the satisfying, rhythmic *thwump-thwump-thwump* of folders appearing. The instant relief I felt mirrored Bruce's desire to manage the unmanageable. It’s a clever, cynical, and hilarious audio metaphor.
The "Who Cares?" factor for Bruce Almighty is its enduring, messy charm. It’s not a philosophically rigorous film, but it’s a surprisingly sincere one that trusts its audience to find the real message buried under the slapstick. It elevates a standard comedy plot into a conversation about surrender and gratitude.
What I know for sure after revisiting it is this: its true gift is reminding us that the most powerful prayer isn't a request for control, but an acceptance of our beautiful, messy, and perfectly imperfect lives.
Reviewer: Suzie Toumeh
Suzie holds two Master’s degrees: in Media Studies from Utrecht University and English Studies from the University of Szeged. She has served on two film festival juries, including the prestigious European University Film Award.💡 Want More Deep Dives on Film & Art?
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