mipablito A nostalgic and sentimental fantasy (journey), based on the historical, and the political climate of the time.An absolutely lovely, and well-cast movie. Almost Capra-esque, in the way this ordinary Joe, fights, for truth, justice, and the American way... and gets the girl, too.Reminiscent of an actual post war movie THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES (1946), where a returning soldier loses his arm in the war.A touching swan song, for the gentle and endearing Martin Landau, who we lost in 2017.Inspirational, and heartwarming, this is truly, Jim Carey's finest hour.

Kevin Flick The Majestic, clearly underrated, easily falls within my top 10 favorite dramas. Director Frank Darabont brings yet another wonderful story to life with great performances by a great and talented cast. No matter how many times I watch it, the movie still plays on my emotions.Although some people care little for Jim Carrey's comedy, I've always felt that his comedic talents were genuine. Seeing him in a serious role gives me even more respect for him as a performer. Carrey's character, Peter Appleton is somewhat a mystery to the viewer and the story gives you a "what if" feeling throughout most of the movie that keeps you wondering which life is real.Especially since his passing, the great Martin Landau's performances in this movie will bring you to tears. David Stiers has always given solid characters with his performances and without fail, brings the humble Doc Stanton to The Majestic. Playing against Jim Carrey's character, the antagonists (Bob Balaban, Hal Holbrook, Shawn Doyle and the late Daniel von Bargen) do a great job giving the conflict. There are many great lines (I forget) and scenes that give you the emotional roller-coaster ride experience many films fail to deliver. Top it off with a great ending, this movie will not disappoint.

Robert J. Maxwell There's a little bit of something for everybody in this sentimental and heart-warming, thoroughly commercial, tale of the rise, fall, rise, fall, and rise again of Jim Carrey.It 1950 or so. Carrey is a screenwriter in Hollywood, now accused of being a communist by the House Unamerican Activities Committee because years ago he attended meetings of the Bread Instead of Bullets Club at UCLA, with the intention of being near a girl he was interested in.Blacklisted by the studio, he gets drunk, drives a long distance, has an accident, and loses his memory. He is thence taken by a sympathetic old chap to the nearest town -- I forget whether the name was Meadowville, Smallville, Homewood, Arcadia, Camelot, Brigadoon, or Cloud Cuckoo Land, but it's one of those idyllic towns that only exist in The Twilight Zone -- in which impossibly amiable people all mistake Carrey for a World War Two hero whose body was never discovered.The unwitting Carrey is fêted, re-introduced to his old girl friend, has love lavished on him by his ailing father, Martin Landau, and brings the bereaved community back to life, symbolized by the reopening of the defunct MAJESTIC THEATER, towards whose refurbishing the entire community has contributed. It's opening night is a blaze of color and neon glory. The awed mayor -- my co-star, Jeffrey DeMunn -- buys the first tickets.However, the obsessed hunters of HUAC are in hot pursuit and manage to track Carrey down, at which point his memory returns and he realizes he's not Luke, the winner of the CMH, but just another blacklisted screenwriter. The confrontation, the presentation of the subpoena, takes place just after Landau's funeral, in the town square, surrounded by residents. Man, the predators went out of their way for this commie on the lam. There are half a dozen big black Buicks with those vertical grills that look like fangs in an angry mouth. The hunters have some of the most misshapen faces ever committed to celluloid. The worst part is that Carrey, now believed to be a communist agent, is shunned by the community that loved him so much. Even his girl turns away in disgust.I said there was a bit of something for everyone. We can start with the popular tale of Martin Guerre, done and redone cinematically several times. Then there is Frank Capra and his adoring but fickle crowds. Then there is the letter from the REAL hero, who evidently did die in combat, that is a shameless rip off of a very moving letter that was written by a soldier to his wife. It's read aloud in, I think, Episode Two of Ken Burns' magnificent documentary on the Civil War.The climactic scene has Carrey called to testify before the HUAC. He's expected to read a statement, after a no-more-than due humiliation by the legislative Inquisition, confessing that, yes, he was a communist, but he apologizes -- and furthermore, here are the names of some other Reds I've known. This long, drawn-out courtroom scene ends appropriately with a rip off from Woody Allen's "The Front." But, despite Carrey's pre-testimony anguish, there's never a doubt about what he will do.The beautiful photography of the little coastal town is impressive. My God, do I want to live there. Everyone friendly. Nice beach. No garbage in the streets. No graffiti. No minorities at all except one perceptive and sympathetic black usher at THE MAJESTIC THEATER.But the film is repulsive because it thinks that you and I are so stupid that we don't see the skull beneath the skin. The movie (and the wistful music) tugs at our heart strings. It brings tears to the eyes. But it does so as mechanically as peeling an onion does. It plays the audience like a funereal organ moaning out "Oh, Mein Papa." The story is so desperate that it will do almost anything to get an emotional response. It will drop an entire story of an amnesic young man bringing a renewed spirit to a dispirited little town, and it will thrust us into a political story in which "good" is innocent Jim Carrey and "evil" are the guys with the heads straight out of an Ivan Albright painting.The performances are fine but they can't overcome this shoddy material. The writer, Michael Sloane, and the director, Frank Durabant, ought to be ashamed of themselves. The Twilight Zone did both kinds of stories better.

moonspinner55 Square and simple-minded filmmaking. Jim Carrey plays a troubled b-movie screenwriter in 1951 Hollywood who suffers amnesia after smacking his head following an auto accident; he washes ashore on a picture-postcard coastal town full of lovable codgers and all-American townsfolk who believe he's a soldier thought dead after the war (the fit and well-scrubbed Carrey hardly looks like a battle-scarred war veteran!). Director Frank Darabont, working from a dewy screenplay by Michael Sloane, aims for no higher ambition than tugging at viewers' heartstrings; the two men pile on the presumed-need for warm nostalgia in attempt to make an emotional connection with a mass audience, when actually just some smart writing would suffice. There isn't a wet cinematic cliché that Sloane doesn't try to resurrect, while Carrey (reeling it in for prestige) drifts through the picture staring at everyone's top shirt button. The film isn't a disaster--it's handsomely made, and the car crash is amusingly carried off--but it's a ringer, a substitute for Preston Sturges. *1/2 from ****