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The Majestic is an old-fashioned throwback replete with a 1950s B-script and halcyon values like patriotism, true love, and clean fun. Peter Appleton (Jim Carrey) is a Hollywood scriptwriter with a sexy gal, a screenplay under his belt, and his big break on the horizon. But when his name is mistakenly given to the House Un-American Activities Committee, Appleton's dreams of success in the biz quickly unravel. An ensuing car accident leaves him without a memory but a great opportunity--as a small town's Luke Trimble, war hero and all-around swell guy, with whom he happens to bear an uncanny physical resemblance. Of course, there's a beautiful woman (Sandra Sinclair) who waited for his return from the war, an endearing old dad (Martin Landau), and the magical Majestic movie house to renovate and reopen. As Appleton's memory eventually catches up to him, however,
The Majestic veers off toward
Mr. Smith Goes to Washington territory, complete with a monologue on the First Amendment. Unfortunately, despite the film's earnest striving to be Capra-esque and Carrey's undeniable star quality, the charm is more reminiscent of Ronald Reagan than Jimmy Stewart.
--Fionn Meade
A fiasco from the director Frank Darabont. Jim Carrey plays a hack screenwriter who, in the early fifties, runs into trouble with the House Un-American Activities Committee. Out for a drive, he gets bonked on the head, suffers from amnesia, and winds up in a small town on the California coast where he's taken for a missing war hero. Since we know he's not a war hero, we feel only chagrin and impatience as he's lionized by the town. The movie appears to be a square version of what Preston Sturges pulled off as hilarious satire in "Hail the Conquering Hero," in 1944. Darabont paces the inert material more slowly than the funeral of Edward VII, and Carrey, unable to use his lank, big body, gives a dull performance. -David Denby
Copyright © 2006
The New Yorker