Written and Directed by Zach Helm

Cast
Dustin Hoffman as Mr. Edward Magorium, Avid Shoe-Wearer
Natalie Portman as Molly Mahoney, The Composer
Jason Bateman as Henry Weston, The Mutant
Zach Mills as Eric Applebaum, the Hat-Collector

Rated G

Those who go back to the beginning of this site (mostly friends and family, to be sure) may remember that I picked Stranger Than Fiction, the feature screenwriting debut of Zach Helm, as 2006's Best Movie.  It was literate, thoughtful and wildly humanist, qualities shared by Helm's second big-screen writing job, and first as director.  But while Stranger Than Fiction is very much a movie for adults, particularly those adults who write, Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium is aimed squarely at kids.  So while I can't say I was captivated throughout, the movie does pack a strong emotional punch, and I can imagine it affecting 10 year-olds just as profoundly as the Best Movie of 2006  resonated with me.

Eric Applebaum (Zach Mills) is a kid with no friends.  Well, he's got one:  Molly Mahoney (Natalie Portman), the 23-year old failed piano prodigy who manages Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium, a magical toy shop filled with stuffed animals that move under their own power, doors that lead to different rooms depending upon where a certain dial is set, and a giant book that makes any item listed in its' pages materialize out of thin air.  They sell books, too, all written on demand by a guy in the basement.  That guy also doubles as the biographer of the owner, Mr. Edward Magorium (Dustin Hoffman), a 243-year old who's believed to have made toys for Napoleon and beaten Abe Lincoln at hopscotch, among other things.  Molly is surprised when the flighty Magorium decides to hire accountant Henry Weston (Jason Bateman) to organize a century of receipts and learn what the store is really worth.  What she doesn't realize is that over a hundred years ago, her boss found the perfect shoes and bought enough of them to last his entire life:  the worn soles on his final pair mean Mr. Magorium is about to die.

Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium is a candy-colored kids movie that's quite unique among modern family fare:  it's actually about something.  In fact, it's about a lot of things, so many that it's kinda like the Riddle of the Sphinx.  Each of its' 4 major characters represents a crisis faced by people of a different age:  Eric needs to move beyond the inner world of his childhood and connect with the world around him, Molly must take the promise of her teenage years and make it work as an adult career, Henry has to embrace the pleasures that life offers beyond his job, and Mr. Magorium faces nothing less than the end of his life.  I suspect that the movie would be best appreciated viewed every 15 years or so starting when you're 9:  your point of identification would likely shift to a different character each time.  

Of course, that also might dictate how good you think the film is, because the movie that's going on between Molly and Magorium is considerably better than the one shared by Eric and Henry.  While it's nice any time two people can develop a friendship, I doubt that paling around with each other is really going to be the long-term solution to either the kid's or the accountant's problems.  But the issues swirling around the Emporium really pop, particularly the challenge to both Molly and the store itself to face the passing of their friend and mentor.  The Emporium is a nicely anthropomophized building, its' walls changing color to reflect its' mood (to a cold, all-encompasing grey while in mouring) and the toys acting in their own toy-like ways to express their collective feelings (I liked the stuffed animals that only want to be held the best).  Magorium has come to terms with the coming end, even hoping for something beyond it (“Light bulbs die.  I shall depart.”):  his concern is how those left behind will cope, and his final speech to Molly about what death means to him is an absolute show-stopper.

But Hoffman is too good of an actor to simply embody “Up With Death” enthusiasm, and the touch of melancholy with which he faces the simple reality that all lives end is quite touching.  It's a performance that has the Oscar winner out on a ledge, speaking in a wacky lisp while wearing an absurd wig, but as in Stranger Than Fiction, he proves perfectly suited to Helm's whimsically profound style.  Portman too must walk a tightrope, called upon to be both scared and sad while always staying upbeat, and she does a wonderful job.  The chemistry between the two actors is strong and their relationship feels convincingly lived-in.  Eric, on the other hand, suffers from a presentation too upbeat:  it's hard to feel like he's ever as lonely as the plot needs him to be because Zach Mills always seems to be having fun.  Bateman could also have found sharper angles on Henry:  a more officious actor might have been a better choice, although he does manage to pull off his friendship with the kid without seeming at all perverse.

But Helm is the real star here, allowed to unleash his wacky worldview full-force in his directorial debut.  Some of it can be a bit much (the “A Film Supposedly by Zach Helm” credit, for instance), but the movie is truly and sincerely pitched at kids, who're likely to enjoy the extra helping of silliness with which he serves most everything.  I really liked the “Hey, Kids, here's how we make a movie” end credits, which not only list all the characters with both a name and a description, but also bundle the crew under headings like “People who Made People Look Good” and “People Who Made Sure Everybody Got Paid”.  I suspect the ruminations on the nature of life and death will really resonate with kids struggling with the subject, and we could all stand to take heed of the movie's ultimate message:  do what you can to make sure you look back without regret when it's all over.

On the technical side, the movie gets the job done without being particularly spectacular.  I kinda liked the fact that the toys are just magical enough to impress without being so much so that the adults who come into the store would have to be fools not to believe in them.  I also liked the grim vision of the sad grey store filled with grey toys, and the way Molly's magic proves to be visually different from Magorium's.

Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium will likely trigger that gag reflex in anybody without a high tolerance for sentiment, but it's got a lot of rewards for squishyphiles such as myself.  It's best enjoyed at a certain age when you've got one foot in the adult world and the other still firmly in childhood but, hey, that age can vary depending on the person.  It also cements Zach Helm as one of the most unique and interesting writers working today.