Quiet Carrey can’t wake ‘Majestic’

Geoff Carter

Friday, Dec. 21, 2001 | 9:49 a.m.

Jim Carrey has had, to date, two brilliant dramatic moments -- both of them in "The Truman Show," his non-comedic role. The first comes as he realizes that everything around him is artificial; his expression is equal parts terror, wonder and fascination, and he doesn't say a word. Later, as he tries to escape the television studio that has become his prison, he weeps as he pounds his fists at the walls -- but director Peter Weir opted to play the scene just with the musical score.

In either case, it was clear that the rubber-faced and fearless comic could turn down his volume. Those moments defined his character, which was more or less that of an unremarkable man, who speaks only in cliches and knows only what those around him have told him. The man is an island.

In a way, Carrey reprises that role for Frank Darabont's "The Majestic." Carrey plays Peter Appleton, a screenwriter in 1951 Hollywood. Similar to many others who worked in his trade during that time, Appleton is blacklisted by the House Un-American Activities Committee. Despondent, he hops into his car, gets into an accident that loses him his memory, and wakes up in Lawson, a small town not far removed from Frank Capra's Bedford Falls.

Lawson is numb, shell-shocked; the town lost more than 60 of its sons in World War II. Appleton is soon mistaken for Luke Trimble, a war hero believed killed in action and the son of Harry Trimble (Martin Landau), the proprietor of Lawson's sole movie theater, The Majestic. The town rallies around Carrey, who reacts to the attention with quiet resistance; he doesn't know who he is, but he knows he's not supposed to be there.

He soon warms to the idea, however, and to his old flame, Adele (Laurie Holden). He works with his "father" to restore the theater, plays honky-tonk piano with the local swing band, and begins building a life -- even as the HUAC searches for him.

It's the kind of role that Jimmy Stewart more or less held the patent on, and screenwriter Michael Sloane makes no secret of the fact that he based the character on one of Stewart's to no small degree. There's just one problem, and you'll hear this from many of my colleagues: Jim Carrey is no Jimmy Stewart. They may have the same first name, but the assumption that Carrey could step into one of Stewart's roles is fanciful at best, and was manufactured by the star himself. He's the only one who sees the parallels.

That's not to say Quiet Carrey isn't up to par. His low-key performance in "The Majestic" is fine, admirable. With his brave face and soft-spoken manner, it's easy to see why Lawson adopts him as a son -- and easy for the audience to adopt him, too, when the witch hunt finally catches up with him.

Carrey might have been better served by a film with a bit more grit. It's hard to believe that Darabont, the director of the perfectly bittersweet "Shawshank Redemption," could make a film so utterly free of conflict.

Only one resident of Lawson vocally questions Appleton's true identity, and his interest in exposing Appleton fades almost immediately.

Considering the mess they made of the Hollywood Ten, the HUAC seems to glad-hand him. Darabont gives Carrey no real crises to react to, no way to really open up.

"The Majestic" takes pains to quote old films -- literally and metaphorically -- but at best, it's the best-ever commercial for Turner Classic Movies. It does prove that Carrey might have a storybook redemption in him, but he won't find it in Darabont's unremarkable world.