In 2001, Jim Carrey was still known as a rubber-faced funnyman rather than a serious actor. He’d taken steps in that direction with The Truman Show, and his next big attempt to further shift towards drama was a now-forgotten movie called The Majestic.
Set in 1951, The Majestic stars Jim Carrey as Peter Appleton, a blacklisted screenwriter struck by a mishap that erases his memory. As so many amnesiacs before him, Carrey wanders around aimlessly until someone tells him who he is.
Unfortunately, that someone mistakes him for his son, seven years gone, a brutal casualty of WWII. Even more coincidentally, Peter looks exactly like the long-dead hero Luke Trimble, and soon the entire town, having lost nearly all its young men to the war, believes as well. They begin rallying around Luke and his re-opening of their local movie theater “The Majestic” as a source of rejuvenation.
That description sounds bad. Don’t let it dissuade your streaming finger. If you can put aside the overused amnesiac plot device and make it through the first few awkward and oddly-acted minutes of Peter Appleton’s real life, you’ll find The Majestic an uplifting and joyful piece of nostalgia.
The Majestic is a movie for anyone enamored with the magic of the modern American moviegoing experience. Unlike the beer-between-breaks mentality of old-school television programming or the solitary confinement of streaming, the cinema is a communal experience. The theater is a gateway into new worlds; the ticket is a simple price paid for magic.
In the promos of the time, Jim Carrey’s The Majestic promised to grace the screen with the joys of cinematic glory. Instead, it chose to chase a Communist “red herring,” and critics savaged the film for it. Looking back on it now, though, the critics of the time got this one wrong.
The Majestic is pure Americana, a reflection of Hollywood’s golden age. Director Frank Darabont’s work is so successfully retro and squeaky clean that it’s almost shocking to hear characters utter expletives more appropriate for today when they happen.
This feels like a film that might have been even better in black and white. The Majestic cries out for a well-choreographed, Singin’ In The Rain-style dance number or a digital James Dean cameo.
Like true golden age films, The Majestic has heart. Carrey deserves credit; this was early in his serious acting career, and many people showed up to this movie expecting funny. He ignored those expectations, held the silliness in check, and focused on making the audience care about his character.
Carrey’s great in the movie. However, it’s The Majestic’s supporting cast, an innocent bunch of beaten-down townsfolk and “widowed” girlfriends, who give this film its soul.
Amnesia ploy aside, the biggest problem with The Majestic is Darabont’s choice to relegate “The Majestic” itself to a mere subplot in a larger picture. Rather than bringing the revitalization of a town, the renovation of its theater, and the magic of that experience to the fore, Darabont instead homes in on themes of twisted fates, confused identities, and Communist accusations. Sadly, unlike the much more interesting revitalization subplot, we’ve seen all this before (in Carrey’s own The Truman Show).
Still, it’s hard not to fall in love with such an innocent and well-meaning film. Darabont and Carrey don’t quite deliver an homage to moviegoing magic, but they created an entertaining and delightful piece of retro-amusement, worth revisiting.
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