If one thing can be said about Jack Black, it’s that he’s full of surprises.

A glance at his filmography unexpectedly juxtaposes titles like “Dead Man Walking” and “Jesus’ Son” with “Saving Silverman.” He gracefully shared the spotlight with John Cusack in “High Fidelity” and then dominated it like a rabid, angry farm hog in “Shallow Hal.”

His results have been just as mixed, with critics and fans frustrated with one movie, and then enthusiastically entertained by the next.

His interviews are no different. Trying to get a straight and/or meaningful answer out of the comic is next to impossible; his unpredictablity rears its ugly, yet amusing head from question to question.

Like some portly tennis player dressed in a battered, matted fur-trimmed hooded parka, Black lobs, ignores and downright slices questions served by a less-bundled press corps. His sense of humor is as dry as the California desert he grew up near. His demeanor fluctuates like his box-office sales — ferocious, loud, and, dare we say, tenacious one minute, quiet and aloof the next.

And while he may not be serious about answering questions directly, it is clear that he is serious about his career. And, of course, he is serious about not being serious.

“I’m really proud of this one. I think this came out great,” he says about his most recent film, “Orange County.” In it, Black plays the loveable bulge Lance, who helps his younger brother get into Stanford. In the history of cinematic siblings, this one may not go down in the books as the most heartwarming (or the most clothed); Black spends a majority of the film in his not-so-tighty whities.

“I’m in the undies when I’m at home because that’s where my character was comfortable. It just seemed right. When he’s at home, why would he wear anything more?” he says, with a convincing seriousness displaying a little more thought than initially expected. But then he follows up with a similar deadpan statement: “And there were two pairs of undies, one and a stunt pair.”

Black, whose physical performance in “Orange County” ranges from leaping over fences in sagging sweatpants to cartwheeling across beds, claims that most of his dialogue was taken directly from the script, no improvising needed.

“Mike White is a tremendous writer. 95.6 percent [of the dialogue was] on the page. I always do a little changing to the words that don’t sound right coming out of my mouth, but for the most part, that script was great, and I loved that part so much that I just wanted to do it like it was.”

Black is just as complimentary towards his “Orange County” co-stars, who include comedic legends Gary Marshall, John Lithgow and Harold Ramis.

“I was intimidated, but I was more just stoked to be hanging around them,” he says like a true fan of the art of comedy. “Catherine O’Hara is one of my heroes. She just destroys me, she’s so funny. It hurts me.”

Black has been likened to comic legends Chris Farley and John Belushi, comparisons he calls “a high compliment.” Even Ramis, who worked with Belushi closely during the ’70s, calls Black “a healthy John.”

Black seems to be more comfortable with the comedy scene, which fits him better than his “Orange County” Hanes.

“Some people I know look for the role that is going to stretch them and broaden them,” he says. “And that’s not really my way. And maybe this is wrong, but I like things that I’m kind of close to already, that I can relate to. I’m not looking to do some fancy accents or anything.”

Such mentality could, and possibly has, run him into the rut of typecasting, but Black doesn’t seem to mind.

“I don’t know. I probably won’t avoid it,” he says when asked if he can steer clear of the Pauly Shore syndrome. “I just try my hardest and see what happens. Pauly Shore, he haunts me.”

When asked about change in the success department, Black turns a little feisty. In just under a decade he has gone from bit parts, to co-star to leading man. And it was only two years ago that his breakthrough role in “High Fidelity” turned the script tide.

“There’s a lot more fake laughing around me,” he highlights as one of the differences.

“People don’t return my calls more, but I get calls from people I used to know, like, ten years ago, like, really angry at me if I don’t call them back. Like, ‘You’ve gone Hollywood now!’ It’s like, ‘Dude, I wouldn’t have called you back before I went Hollywood.’ People are angry with me for not ‘hooking them up.’ Nobody hooked me up, buddy. Now f*cking leave me alone, sons of bitches.”

On another, yet equally triumphant Jables planet, his band Tenacious D released its debut album and toured with Weezer this fall. When asked about the time and energy constraints of committing to both stage and screen, Black dismisses it.

“There’s been no real conflict. I just do The D when I’m not doing anything else and then I do it really hard, as hard as I can.”

Black is rare in that his movie career is almost completely separate from his music career, one rarely affecting the success or failure of the other.

“Most actor-singers are doing it as like a vanity project, and it’s all just straight-up singing and trying to be a regular legit band,” he says. “And our band has more theatrical elements and we use some of our acting chops to make up for the lack of musical talent.”

And groupies seem to follow suit.

“Tenacious D groupies scream more; there’s more screaming and worship and hailing the power and the glory of the D,” he says, explaining the difference. “The Jack Black [actor] fans are like, ‘Hey, yeah.’ It’s a mellower thing.”

So what’s next for the hardest-working man in 2001 show business? Surprisingly, when many actors would be wallowing in their glory, snatching every offer to pass their way, Black is taking a breather.

“I’m just looking forward to a break,” he says. ” I’m going to go out to the desert and recharge, because I’m kind of burnt creatively. I want to just take a break and come back ? like the Phoenix from the ashes.”