—three sticks of doom

This holiday, I took time out from the compulsory gluttony and merriment to enjoy Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events. My friends and I had to sit a little too close to the screen, and at a slightly obtuse angle (no jokes, please), but although we considered extracting several kids from their primo seats, we chose the way of peace instead. I don't mind telling you that we would have kicked their little fifth-grade buttocks. It would have been appropriate, too, because in the world of Lemony Snicket (much like in real life), this is exactly the sort of thing grown-ups do, without reason or provocation.

Not long ago, I heard a re-broadcast interview with Daniel Handler, the author of the books, who explained that an LS film was in the works. When asked about the cast, he said he didn't know yet, and that he only hoped they didn't cast someone like Jim Carrey as Count Olaf. Well, um....Guess what, Lemony? They sure as sugarcane did. And he does a decent job, although the Jim Carrey-ness of his character is slightly off-putting to begin with (I had such high hopes for him after Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind). Anyway, it's a goofiness that seemed at odds with the dry humor of the books, and for the first ten minutes my brain kept rebelling against it. Once I cultivated a zen state, however, I was able to sit back and enjoy the show for what it was. You will, too.

The story takes place in a place between times, an odd juxtaposition of eras, in which the characters are all garbed in Victorian clothing but talk about fax machines. In the first few frames of the film we learn that the aptly named Baudelaire children—Violet, Klaus, and Sunny—have become orphans. Their parents have been killed in a mysterious fire that we are told had something to do with light refraction (this is explained later). The kids are delivered to the care of Count Olaf, a pompous, diabolical actor, who immediately puts them to work cleaning his filthy home. It soon becomes clear that the chief ambition of his life is to steal the children's extensive fortune and, secondarily, to make them as miserable as possible in the process.

When I first read Lemony Snicket, it occurred to me that he was the reincarnation of Roald Dahl. But I think that's wrong now. However much I love Roald Dahl (author of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and James and the Giant Peach), I think Lemony Snicket does a better job of portraying the complexities of human character. True, his villains are pure villains. Count Olaf never shows an ounce of humanity—ever. But those who are not villains are not necessarily heroes. The stories showcase the many failings of decent, well-meaning grown-ups. Mr. Poe, the banker, refuses to listen to the children again and again, dismissing their claim that Count Olaf is planning to murder them as the fantastic paranoia of children. Aunt Josephine is agreeable and smart, yet fails the children in the end because of her own desperation and fear. Because of her own sadness, really. She's a good person, she's just not a strong one. Uncle Monty (played by Billy Connolly)—the reclusive keeper of reptiles—is a wonderful, compassionate guardian whose failure turns out to be one of imagination. When Count Olaf appears at his home disguised as a herpetologist, Uncle Monty misinterprets a warning from the children because he's blinded by the constrictions (heh heh) of his world view. This complexity of these characters only contributes to the sense of melancholy that pervades the film, because you desperately want these kids to find someone who will love them AND protect them. And you know it's just not going to happen.

One of the cool things about the books is that Violet, the oldest Baudelaire child, is the inventor, the MacGyver of the family. Her answer to any desperate situation is to take a good look around, because "there's always something." Her brother Klaus is an avid reader, and he uses this knowledge to devise ways out of Olaf's traps. The youngest, Sunny, is an infant who loves to bite and has wisdom beyond her years. She gets them out of a scrape or two, as well. The Baudelaire children are clever, and they repeatedly outsmart the grown-ups who wish them ill. You can see why kids love this stuff.

One more thing I want to mention is that Dustin Hoffman makes an extremely brief appearance toward the end. Caveat: you might think there's some sort of logic to his presence, but there isn't. He is TOTALLY RANDOM, and it slows you down a bit, because you keep expecting him to enter into the story in some larger way, which he doesn't. I'm sorry, but Dustin Hoffman is just too big a star to be doing a cameo like this without explanation. Imagine if, toward the end of Citizen Kane, the camera had panned up from Kane's deathbed to show Harpo Marx gesticulating comically in the background. You'd be disturbed by this, right? "What does THIS crap have to do with anything?" you'd ask yourself. And the answer would come to you loud and clear, like the whistle of a relentless freight train bearing down on a heroine strapped to the tracks. Nothing. It has nothing to do with anything. It's just a flaw in the otherwise seamless internal logic of the film. Same with A Series of Unfortunate Events. I saw Dustin Hoffman and my mind was off to the races. Dustin Hoffman led to Anne Bancroft, who led to Katharine Ross, who led to the original Stepford Wives, which led to Cherry 2000, which led to Lolita, which led to me thinking how I need to read that book again, and all of a sudden I realized I had missed a full minute of on-screen action. It was like a brief, alcoholic blackout. Am I protesting too much about something inconsequential? Probably. But I maintain that Hoffman's bizarre appearance was not only distracting—it was unfortunate.

Ahem. Moving on.

There is much to savor in this film. It's a bit like Turkish delight, except that it doesn't turn you into a slave of the White Witch. The scenery is pure Tim Burton (the resemblance is purely mimetic—Brad Silberling, not Burton, directed), and I couldn't get enough of the strange, desolate landscapes, the houses festooned with cobwebs, and the gloomy skylines. Kids will eat it up faster than the half-price holiday chocolate getting all melty on the kitchen table. Their parents may get a slight buzz, too.

Highly recommended.