Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium
Written & Directed by Zach Helm
There was more energy, emotion and excitement in Christopher Walken’s toy store song-and-dance sequence with Michelle Pfeiffer in Hairspray than all the cheeriness and bright colors filling the screen throughout Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium. A misguided kid flick that’s exuberant without achieving coherence, Magorium follows the waning days of the titular toy peddler (Dustin Hoffman), a strange wizardly fellow planning to transfer ownership of his magical shop to his cutesy assistant (Natalie Portman). Writer-director Zach Helm fills scenes with the organic trinkets in Magorium’s store, but he doesn’t give it any greater significance beyond the hodgepodge of clever special effects. Hoffman puts on the weirdest performance of his career, playing the crazed Magorium with vigor matched only by his goofy hairstyle, but there’s nothing in the story to match that otherworldly sprightliness. He’s like Willy Wonka without the chocolate.
The bland supporting roles don’t help. A socially dysfunctional 9-year-old (Zach Mills) collects hats, indulges in excessive toy-playing and tries to save the store from going out of business, but the script doesn’t provide any reason to believe that a place exists where he can reconcile his imagination with the practical need of making friends. Jason Bateman shows up as an accountant struggling to fix the store’s fraying paperwork, but the actor can’t seem to shake his penchant for understatement that brought him great acclaim on “Arrested Development.” He’s funny to watch, but that talent doesn’t suit his character—or at least the small semblance of character he’s given.
Too mild as a distraction for small children and not trippy enough to become a stoner favorite, the biggest flaw of Magorium comes from its oddly unbalanced tone. With the animated stuffed animals and flying, uh, stuff swirling around him, Magorium claims his time on Earth has ended and plainly reveals that he’s going to die. This morbid plot point unfolds as though Magorium’s demise is totally natural, but the twist ends up as a major detriment to the movie’s jolly demeanor. We’re not given a reason for his death, which means more than a few parents might have some really tough explaining to do when their kids don’t get it. This sort of bleakness rarely works in fiction intended for a young audience. In Toys, for example, Barry Levinson’s raunchy 1992 comedy about military appropriation of a factory run by a Magorium-like eccentric (Robin Williams), the sleazy satire left no possibility for the illusion of an innocuous fable. (The Pixar movies, however, get it just right.) Uninspired despite its various attempts to find inspiration, Magorium is itself like a toy: Shiny, mystifying and completely expendable.
Written & Directed by Zach Helm
There was more energy, emotion and excitement in Christopher Walken’s toy store song-and-dance sequence with Michelle Pfeiffer in Hairspray than all the cheeriness and bright colors filling the screen throughout Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium. A misguided kid flick that’s exuberant without achieving coherence, Magorium follows the waning days of the titular toy peddler (Dustin Hoffman), a strange wizardly fellow planning to transfer ownership of his magical shop to his cutesy assistant (Natalie Portman). Writer-director Zach Helm fills scenes with the organic trinkets in Magorium’s store, but he doesn’t give it any greater significance beyond the hodgepodge of clever special effects. Hoffman puts on the weirdest performance of his career, playing the crazed Magorium with vigor matched only by his goofy hairstyle, but there’s nothing in the story to match that otherworldly sprightliness. He’s like Willy Wonka without the chocolate.
The bland supporting roles don’t help. A socially dysfunctional 9-year-old (Zach Mills) collects hats, indulges in excessive toy-playing and tries to save the store from going out of business, but the script doesn’t provide any reason to believe that a place exists where he can reconcile his imagination with the practical need of making friends. Jason Bateman shows up as an accountant struggling to fix the store’s fraying paperwork, but the actor can’t seem to shake his penchant for understatement that brought him great acclaim on “Arrested Development.” He’s funny to watch, but that talent doesn’t suit his character—or at least the small semblance of character he’s given.
Too mild as a distraction for small children and not trippy enough to become a stoner favorite, the biggest flaw of Magorium comes from its oddly unbalanced tone. With the animated stuffed animals and flying, uh, stuff swirling around him, Magorium claims his time on Earth has ended and plainly reveals that he’s going to die. This morbid plot point unfolds as though Magorium’s demise is totally natural, but the twist ends up as a major detriment to the movie’s jolly demeanor. We’re not given a reason for his death, which means more than a few parents might have some really tough explaining to do when their kids don’t get it. This sort of bleakness rarely works in fiction intended for a young audience. In Toys, for example, Barry Levinson’s raunchy 1992 comedy about military appropriation of a factory run by a Magorium-like eccentric (Robin Williams), the sleazy satire left no possibility for the illusion of an innocuous fable. (The Pixar movies, however, get it just right.) Uninspired despite its various attempts to find inspiration, Magorium is itself like a toy: Shiny, mystifying and completely expendable.
