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THE MAJESTIC The latest fantasy from director Frank Darabont, whose previous works (The Green Mile and The Shawshank Redemption) viewed prisons as feel-good enclaves full of civilized, misunderstood citizens, is set in the early 1950s, a period in which McCarthy and his zealots were sniffing Commies out of every corner of the country. Jim Carrey (in a nicely understated turn) plays Pete Appleton, a Hollywood screenwriter whose career gets ruined when he's suspected of being a Red. After a timely car accident, he awakens with his memory wiped clean -- and with everyone in the small town of Lawson believing he's one of their long-lost WWII vets finally returning home. The first part of the movie, which deals with Pete's involvement with the town's residents, will strike some viewers as inspiring and others as manipulative; the second half, which centers on Pete's stand against the House Un-American Activities Committee, is patently false and a queer whitewash of a tragic chapter in US history.
ORANGE COUNTY Numerous stars -- among them Kevin Kline, John Lithgow and an unbilled Ben Stiller -- turn up in Orange County, and their participation makes one wonder if they signed on to curry favor with Lawrence Kasdan (whose son Jake directs the film) or to get in the good graces of Tom Hanks (whose son Colin stars in the film). Surely they weren't attracted to the material itself, a largely tepid tale that wavers uncomfortably between being a crude teen flick and a sharp-edged comedy of errors. Hanks plays Shaun Brumder, a bright kid who's considered a shoo-in at Stanford until his guidance counselor (Lily Tomlin) mails off the wrong transcripts, thereby resulting in his rejection. Determined to clear matters up, Shaun decides to visit the campus in person, accompanied by his supportive girlfriend (Schuyler Fisk) and his perpetually stoned brother (Jack Black). Considering this is one of the first releases of the new year (generally indicating bottom-of-the-barrel fare), it's amazing that this thing is not only tolerable but occasionally displays flashes of innovation -- unfortunately, not nearly enough of them to counter either the trivial pursuit of a plot (with a cringe-inducing wrap-up) or the smattering of been-there-done-that bodily function gags.
THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS This unusual production doesn't offer the sort of instant guffaw gratification we generally get from American comedies; instead, its laughs are like stealth bombers, sneaking up on us to the extent that we suddenly find ourselves chortling even as we're wrapped up in the movie's unexpected air of melancholia. Through odd circumstances, the members of a dysfunctional clan -- the estranged parents (Gene Hackman and Anjelica Huston) and their grown kids (Gwyneth Paltrow, Ben Stiller and Luke Wilson) -- find themselves living under the same roof, a pressure cooker situation that causes all sorts of messy emotions to spill over. The brand of eccentric humor is often heavy-handed, but its ability to make us care about these flawed, sad characters can't be underestimated. The entire cast clicks, though this is clearly Hackman's show: Refusing to pander to audience sympathies, he makes his character both endearing and infuriating. Come to think of it, the same can be said about the movie itself.
THE SHIPPING NEWS When it comes to awards season, director Lasse Hallstrom has become Miramax Films' go-to guy: His past two releases, The Cider House Rules and Chocolat, both earned Best Picture Oscar nominations. Whether this one makes it three-for-three remains to be seen, but the Academy could do worse than toss votes at this tasteful adaptation of E. Annie Proulx's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel. Kevin Spacey delivers a soft, sensitive turn as Quoyle, a meek man who returns to his family's Newfoundland home after his slatternly wife (Cate Blanchett) dies in a car accident. Backed by his headstrong aunt (Judi Dench), he tries to build a new life for himself -- he accepts a job at a newspaper and courts a local widow (Julianne Moore) -- but he soon discovers that dark secrets from the past stand poised to undermine any chance at happiness. Hallstrom largely stifled his own creative impulses with the stridently plainclothes Chocolat, but working in tandem with cinematographer Oliver Stapleton, he comes up with some unusual storytelling techniques that serve to deepen the emotional relevancy rather than cheapen it. A sober tale of redemption that's frequently punctuated with quick bursts of mordant humor, the film effectively overcomes a certain calculatedness that creeps into its more melodramatic moments.