Picture a green creature, not exactly winning any beauty contests and known for his less-than-sociable demeanor. His temper can be downright nasty, yet children can’t get enough of him. Perhaps they relate to feelings of being misunderstood by adults obsessed with rules, or maybe they just love the exaggerated, cartoonish way he displays his grouchiness. No, this isn’t about Shrek. But if analysts had been paying attention back in 2001, they might have anticipated the success of the animated film named after him, especially considering the previous year’s top-grossing movie was Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas, featuring Jim Carrey and directed by Ron Howard.

The live-action adaptation of The Grinch just celebrated its 25th anniversary, and with the holiday season in full swing, its milestone is being highlighted alongside an in-depth oral history by Vulture’s Bilge Ebiri. Ebiri points out that the film’s reputation among critics is not particularly glowing; unlike Shrek, which has aged only somewhat better, How the Grinch Stole Christmas didn’t receive a free pass into timeless acclaim despite its box office triumph. That said, the movie is hard to overlook for a variety of reasons, some of which are intriguingly statistical.

Remarkably, it was the last film to become the highest-grossing domestic release with earnings under $300 million in North America until the anomalous pandemic year of 2020. While this might seem like a dubious honor, it underscores its success as a mix of seasonal timing, an engaging concept, and star power. The Grinch was already a beloved figure thanks to a classic book and animated TV special, yet How the Grinch Stole Christmas is one of just three top-grossing films of the 21st century that didn’t lead to a sequel. The other two? American Sniper and Barbie. It still holds the record for the biggest U.S. box office earnings in the careers of both Jim Carrey and Ron Howard, maintaining its status even after 25 years of inflation.

Moreover, with a 50% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, this Grinch film is the worst-reviewed box office champion of the century. Other contenders for that dubious distinction, like Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest and Spider-Man 3, have found some redemption among cinephiles thanks to the unique visions of directors Gore Verbinski and Sam Raimi. Yet, How the Grinch Stole Christmas remains an anomaly.

That said, Christmas movies thrive regardless of critical acclaim. They are made for the masses, and audiences have consistently returned to this version of the Grinch on television, DVDs, and streaming platforms, and will likely continue to do so on future formats. Most viewers probably remain blissfully unaware of its odd statistical quirks or negative reviews. Over time, many have grown up with this film, and along with the Sonic series, Jim Carrey’s role as a beloved figure across generations is firmly established.

And it’s Carrey’s performance, truly, that makes How the Grinch Stole Christmas a movie that’s weirdly compelling even if you sensibly regard it as a garish, overworked, cacophonous nightmare-hallucination expanding on a near-perfect 24 minutes of animation. Carrey, as he usually does, absolutely threw himself into this bizarre assignment. That’s what the interviewees in Ebiri’s behind-the-scenes piece keep hammering home, describing a physical transformation for Carrey that sounds at least as punishing as anything Leonardo DiCaprio endured for The Revenant. Covered in itchy dyed-green fur and bulbus prosthetics, outfitted with colored contact lenses and elaborate false teeth, Carrey was in Rick Baker hell throughout the shoot, and to his credit, he betrays no greater misery than the Grinch’s personal vendettas and pet peeves (though maybe it was easy to keep those closer to the surface with the constant physical agony and all).

Carrey also spends a lot of time performing an extended nutbar solo; he barely interacts with any fellow performers for the first half-hour of the movie. Left to his devices in the Grinch’s mountain-cave lair, he minces, he prances, he screams into the void, he growls and eats glass. When he does have a more extended scene with young Cindy Lou Who (Taylor Momsen), he throws himself into a teeth-gnashing, fearmongering, limb-thrashing frenzy.

The performance taps more directly into the comic aggression that’s always been a part of Carrey’s persona, and makes it a more integral part of his story arc than, say, Ace Ventura, who is an amusing force of nature but never really stops acting like a version of the Grinch who genuinely loves himself (and, secondarily, animals) more than he loathes anyone else. In that sense, Carrey’s Grinch is a more traditional manifestation of the stereotypical comedian mix of hostility, antic desire to perform, secret emotional neediness, and self-loathing. (In this telling, he even shows up in Whoville to accept an award, legible as a light parody of actorly Oscar hunger.) Despite Carrey’s next-biggest hit, Bruce Almighty, being a less explicitly kid-targeted affair, it nonetheless sands off a lot of these edges. Carrey would give other bravura comic performances in the years following his Grinchy turn (and some career-best work in less broad comedies, too), but I’m not sure if he ever again felt quite so unhinged in such a mainstream picture.

The movie itself is frequently too garish, frantic, and overcomplicated to show off its insanely elaborate practical sets, makeup, and elastic camerawork. The idea that the story hinges on the lost love of the Grinch’s life, or even the weird notion that there’s some version of moral righteousness behind his hatred of the Whos, which stands in direct opposition to the original Dr. Seuss book, is pure screenwriter vamping. (The flashback Baby Grinch puppet is grotesquely adorable, though.) It is, in many ways, a theme-park version of a charming children’s book. That’s not really what people see when they look at How the Grinch Stole Christmas, though. Carrey, who has been repeatedly described as preternaturally skilled at knowing where to position himself maximally for the camera’s “eye,” draws too much attention. As much as the movie is a lavishly budgeted old-fashioned Hollywood megaproduction, it still feels like Carrey single-handedly turns it into the best approximation of a holiday classic.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! (At least, that’s what Andy Williams promised.) The holidays are a time to celebrate with family, friends, food, and, let’s not forget, fun things to watch. Whether you’re huddled up with the whole family in your living room or cozying up under the covers with your tablet, let Decider be your guide to all things festive this holiday season.

Jesse Hassenger (@rockmarooned) is a writer living in Brooklyn. He’s a regular contributor to The A.V. Club, Polygon, and The Week, among others. He podcasts at www.sportsalcohol.com, too.

Stream How the Grinch Stole Christmas on Peacock