‘I Told Them I Couldn’t Do The Movie’: Jim Carrey Reveals Studio Hired CIA Torture Resistance Expert To Help Him Survive Grinch Makeup Hell
Christmas, in the world of Hollywood, is a time of endless cheer, beloved traditions, and, apparently, intense behind-the-scenes psychological endurance. The magic we see on screen is often built upon a foundation of bizarre real-life trauma, unscripted fan encounters, and desperate measures taken by film studios. When the biggest names in holiday cinema gathered on The Graham Norton Show, the ensuing conversation offered a fascinating and, in one particularly shocking case, terrifying glimpse behind the festive curtain.
The most extraordinary revelation of the night came from legendary comedian and actor Jim Carrey, whose portrayal of the titular green curmudgeon in How the Grinch Stole Christmas has become essential annual viewing for millions. While the film is a colourful, chaotic riot of fun, Carrey’s experience was anything but. In fact, he revealed that the relentless torture of the Grinch’s heavy makeup application drove him to a mental breaking point, forcing the studio to engage a professional trained by the CIA.
The Grinch’s Hellish Transformation
Carrey described the sheer physical and mental toll of the intricate Grinch prosthetics and costume as being “literally like being buried alive every day.” The process was not a quick one. On the first day alone, the makeup application consumed a staggering eight and a half hours. This ordeal, confined to a small makeup chair under heavy prosthetics, proved too much to bear.
“I went back to my trailer and put my leg through the wall,” Carrey confessed, detailing the moment his sanity snapped under the pressure. The situation was so severe that he immediately called director Ron Howard to deliver the ultimatum: he couldn’t do the movie. For a major studio production, this was a crisis.
Enter the surprising solution: a crisis manager with a background that seemed wildly inappropriate for a family Christmas movie set. According to Carrey, the studio’s fix was to hire a “gentleman who is trained to teach CIA operatives how to endure torture.”
This specialist, whose expertise lay in resisting interrogation and extreme confinement, was tasked with guiding Carrey through the physical and psychological agony of the makeup chair. The advice given was as bizarre as the situation itself. To combat spiralling panic attacks, Carrey was instructed to “turn the television on, change a pattern, have someone, you know, come up and smack you in the head,” or even to “punch yourself in the leg.” In a darkly comedic twist, the actor also shared the advice to “smoke as much as you possibly can.”
The surreal image that emerged was of the Grinch, covered in yak hair, sitting in the chair—not with a Christmas carol, but with a giant cigarette holder to keep the flammable green hair safe—desperately listening to music to stay calm.
Ultimately, Carrey found his unlikely saviour not in covert operations training, but in disco. He revealed that the only thing that worked to keep him calm throughout the entire 100 times the makeup was applied was listening to the soothing, familiar sounds of the Bee Gees. “There’d be no Grinch without them,” he joked, a startling epilogue to a story of unexpected suffering for a festive icon.
The Unexpected Rituals of Classic Christmas Films
The conversation shifted to the enduring impact of modern Christmas classics, which often generate powerful, if sometimes strange, emotional connections with audiences.
Kate Winslet shared her delight in the legacy of The Holiday, which she made in 2006. She notes that the film has become a ritualistic staple, particularly for mothers and daughters. Winslet described how she can spot the fans coming, often holding hands, as they approach her in public places—including, memorably, the UK supermarket chain, Waitrose—just to tell her, “We love The Holiday.” This yearly event, often involving a takeaway, wine, and chocolates, highlights how cinematic escapism weaves itself into personal festive traditions.
Keira Knightley, who is perhaps most associated with the ensemble rom-com Love Actually, had an equally bizarre tale of fan devotion. While stuck in an hour-long traffic jam with her mother in a famously “horrible yellow car,” a van full of builders pulled up alongside them. To her astonishment, the men proceeded to recreate the entire, famous cue card scene from the film—a scene originally intended to be both sweet and creepy.
Knightley admitted the spontaneous performance was exactly that: both creepy and sweet at the same time, especially since she couldn’t escape the fixed-in-traffic audience. Despite the film being known for its romantic moments, Knightley was adamant about one detail: she got the “best kiss in that movie, hands down,” with her co-star Rodrigo Santoro, an assertion that always surprises the audience. She attributed the genuine sweetness of the scene to the fact that they were both genuinely broken-hearted at the time, having recently been dumped, turning the on-screen kiss into a shared moment of real-life emotional comfort.
From Glam Rock Nativity to Time-Travelling Trains
Beyond the established classics, the panel discussed the new generation of holiday films, each with its own eccentric story.
Emilia Clarke spoke of her film, Last Christmas, which is not just set during the season, but is entirely based on the iconic Wham! song. The film, which she stars in as a “lost, confused and dazed” young woman named Kate, was written by Emma Thompson. The biggest secret, however, was reserved for the credits: an as-of-yet unheard song written by George Michael right before his death is featured.
The night’s most outlandish personal story, however, belonged to Catherine Tate. Discussing her film Nativity 3: Dude, Where’s My Donkey?, she was drawn into recounting her theatrical roots, which started with a primary school nativity play. Tate, who was terribly shy as a child, was initially given no part at all. Her mother, desperate for her timid, spectacle-wearing daughter to be noticed, took drastic, unconventional action.
Tate’s mother asked her if Sister Dorothy, the teacher, knew she could do an impression of the infamous glam rocker, Gary Glitter. In a truly unbelievable turn of events, Tate’s mother encouraged her to pitch herself to the nun as the “King of Glam Rock” to join the Three Kings. Tate recalled her mother’s rationale to the bewildered sister: “Look, it’s the birth of our Lord, don’t you think Mary and Joseph would have had a party?”
To the shock of the audience, the school actually agreed. During the performance, Tate confirmed, the teacher paused the play to announce to the stunned parents: “Ladies and gentlemen, the cabaret is right!” before a young Tate came stumbling in to deliver her impression, launching a comedy career with a legendary, wholly inappropriate, and unforgettable start.
Rounding out the Christmas confessions were James McAvoy, promoting the ‘smart, funny’ Aardman animation Arthur Christmas, and Kurt Russell, who discussed the commitment of growing his own impressive beard for his role as Santa in The Christmas Chronicles—a beard that thankfully proved less irritating to his long-time partner, Goldie Hawn, than the one he grew for The Hateful Eight.
Finally, Michael Sheen detailed his role in the high-concept time-travel Christmas film, Last Train to Christmas. Like Jim Carrey, he endured an excruciating eight hours in the makeup chair to portray his character, a nightclub manager who keeps moving 10 years forward or backward in life simply by changing train carriages. Sheen had to play “millions of versions” of himself, a physical transformation that almost rivalled Carrey’s in its sheer demand for endurance.
The collective revelations from the festive panel prove that while Christmas films bring an annual dose of comfort and joy to millions, the path to cinematic Yuletide immortality is paved with bizarre fan interactions, uncomfortable sacrifices, psychological anguish, and, if you’re Catherine Tate, a healthy dose of pure, chaotic glam rock.
