e’re tired of pyrotechnics and special effects,” says creator Christof (Ed Harris) as he explains the premise of “The Truman Show,” which is essentially a continual live-stream of Truman Burbank’s (Jim Carrey) life. The catch is that he’s unaware; his life is populated with actors whom he believes to be regular people, he lives on a controlled set (an entire town, called Seahaven, on an island), and cameras spy on his every move. It’s the latest in entertainment – viewers are fascinated with unscripted, random, easily relatable ordinariness. “It’s all true. It’s all real.”

On Day 10,909, Burbank, an insurance salesman, finally feels as if something is off. That evening, while hanging out with his pal Marlon (Noah Emmerich), he admits he wants an adventure, perhaps to Fiji – the furthest place away he can think of. But Truman’s wife, Meryl (Laura Linney), who is actually actress Hannah Gill, reminds him that they have responsibilities and that they had been planning to have a baby. “We have mortgage payments.” Though there is no script, the people in charge of the show meddle however they wish.

It’s quite the mystery, considering the conspiratorial work necessary to hide the truth from a reality TV show’s star. It is, in fact, entirely unbelievable, especially when cameras capture most activities but not all (despite audiences seeing them), with so many angles and close-ups that couldn’t exist without obvious intrusiveness and awareness. But the concept is strangely prescient, predicting the evolution of, and obsession with, reality TV shows in the years to come. And the story itself is intercut with outside shots of avid watchers speculating on how the show might end. It’s a show within a show, with viewers both inside and outside the happenings. “This the best shot we got?”

Engagingly, one of the clues that tips off Truman as to the true nature of his surroundings is a girl from his college (years ago), named Lauren Garland (Natascha McElhone) – a mysterious character who disappears suddenly when she attempts to warn the star of his reality. She presents a phantasmal love interest cut short, which sets in motion the eeriness of Truman’s eventual understanding – not unlike “The Game” from the year before (and minimally “Groundhog Day” or “The Stepford Wives”), or the future works of “The Matrix” and “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” which examine toying with memories, manipulating consciences, and blurring the lines between reality and fiction. It’s something of a shame that advertising materials (posters, trailers) give away the main premise, since the movie itself details revelations like a mystery; it would be far more uncanny and thrilling without prior knowledge, since Truman behaves as if his mind is chaotically unraveling – a rather sensible reaction to discovering the exhaustive extents of the lies and his confinement. “You’re not right in the head!”

With Carrey in the lead, the film is decidedly comedic, especially with his rubber-faced, overexaggerated expressions and mannerisms. Yet the massiveness of the fabrication of Truman’s life is routinely disturbing and aggravating and inhumane. It’s a curious social experiment idea, even if it’s steeped in a fantasy so comprehensive that it always feels unconvincing (perhaps even less so than in the clearly sci-fi/horror realm of “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”). It may eventually reveal genuinely far-flung, futuristic conceits to address the implausible setup, along with additional commentary on what audiences will consume (leading to an abrupt, unresolved conclusion), as well as how people might view their own existences as stars of their own show, but the only truly resonant subplot is the love-at-first-sight story with the mystery woman – a gnawing, unavoidable, practically ghostly force that drives Truman to act in a way that is cinematically authentic and satisfying. Ultimately, however, “The Truman Show” would have worked better as a straightforward sci-fi drama (like writer Andrew Niccol’s own under-appreciated “Gattaca” from a year prior).

– Mike Massie