Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events

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RottenTomatoes.com: 69% (6.6)

Studio: Paramount Pictures
Movies.com: 2.33
Release Date: December 17, 2004
MetaCritic.com: 61
Director: Brad Silberling
Screenwriter: Robert Gordon, based the the books by Daniel Handler
Producers: Laurie MacDonald, Walter F. Parkes and Jim van Wyck
Music: Thomas Newman
MPAA rating: PG (for thematic elements, scary situations and brief language)
Running time: 97 minutes
Genre(s): Adventure, Fantasy, Family
Cast:
Count Olaf: Jim Carrey
Violet Baudelaire: Emily Browning
Klaus Baudelaire: Liam Aiken
Aunt Josephine: Meryl Streep
Lemony Snicket: Jude Law
Sunny: Kara and Shelby Hoffman
Mr. Poe: Timothy Spall
Justice Strauss: Catherine O'Hara
Uncle Monty: Billy Connolly

Chicago Sun-Times (Roger Ebert) - The first time I picked up a Lemony Snicket adventure
in a bookstore, I was intrigued by the message on the back cover: "I'm sorry to say that the
book you are holding in your hands is extremely unpleasant ..." It goes on to warn that "the
three youngsters encounter a greedy and repulsive villain, itchy clothing, a disastrous fire, a
plot to steal their fortune, and cold porridge for breakfast" and suggests "putting this book
down at once."
As a marketing ploy, this is brilliant. It was all I could do to prevent myself from buying the
book. And the film "Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events" opens on the same
note, with Lemony Snicket himself (Jude Law) bent over an old typewriter and typing out the
dire story of the three Baudelaire children who suddenly and decisively become orphans. The
family banker, Mr. Poe (Timothy Spall), breaks the news that a fire has destroyed their
mansion and killed their parents.
The children seem to take this news rather well. I would say they take it too well, except that
demonstrations of grief are not helpful in macabre comedies, where there is so much to grieve
about that there would be no end to it. Perhaps tragedy is in the family tree; I assume they are
descended from the French poet Charles Baudelaire, whose poems about sex and death
"became a by-word for unwholesomeness," according to Wikipedia.com. The only thing
standing in the way of this theory is that Charles left no descendants.
The Baudelaire children are Violet (Emily Browning), Klaus (Liam Aiken) and the infant
Sunny (Kara and Shelby Hoffman), who possesses only two teeth but such a firm bite that she
can hang in mid-air from the edge of a table for minutes on end, an occupation she finds
amusing. Violet is beautiful, Klaus is intense, and they are immediately beset with lifethreatening difficulties.
Mr. Poe takes them to live with their "closest relative," a fourth cousin three times removed or
perhaps it's the other way around. This is Count Olaf (Jim Carrey), who lives in a Gothic
mansion so creepy his interior decorator must have been Nosferatu. The Count wants to kill
the children and inherit the family fortune, and is not very subtle in his methods, parking his
ancient DeSoto on the train tracks with the children locked inside. As there are 11 novels so
far in the series, they necessarily escape.

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It's odd, how the movie's gloom and doom are amusing at first, and then dampen down the
humor. Although many Unfortunate Events do indeed occur in "Lemony Snicket," they cannot
be called exciting because everyone is rather depressed by them. There is no one in the movie
to provide a reasonable reaction to anything; the adults are all demented, evil, or, in the case
of Mr. Poe, stunningly lacking in perception, and the kids are plucky enough, but rather dazed
by their misfortunes.
Jim Carrey is over the top as Count Olaf, but I suppose a character named Count Olaf is over
the top by definition. The next relative to harbor the children is nice Uncle Monty (Billy
Connolly), a herpetologist who shares his mansion with countless snakes, vipers and other
reptiles, and announces an immediate departure for Peru. Before the expedition can get under
way, Count Olaf turns up again, this time in disguise as an Italian; although he prides himself
on his acting and makeup skills, the kids take one look at him and announce that he is
obviously Count Olaf. Uncle Monty, alas, is slow to take heed.
The children eventually arrive at yet another potential foster home, this one the residence of
Aunt Josephine (Meryl Streep), whose Victorian mansion teeters on spindly supports that
allow it to extend far above a rocky coast and stormy sea. Strange that her house is so
precarious, since Josephine is literally afraid of everything, a condition I believe is called
phobiaphobia.
The movie looks wonderful. Director Brad Silberling ("Moonlight Mile," "City of Angels")
has assembled production designer Rick Heinrichs ("Sleepy Hollow") and art directors John
Dexter ("Planet of the Apes") and Martin Whist, who have created wondrous and creepy
spaces. The cinematography by Emmanuel Lubezki finds foreboding even in sunlight.
But there is a problem, and the problem is, everything seems to be an act. Nothing really
seems to be at stake. The villains are teeth-gnashing hams, the hazards are more picturesque
than frightening, and the children are unnaturally collected and capable. There is some kind of
family secret, involving spyglasses, which will be resolved no doubt in later films; it's brought
onstage and then not really dealt with.
I liked the film, but I'll tell you what. I think this one is a tune-up for the series, a trial run in
which they figure out what works and what needs to be tweaked. The original "Spider-Man"
was a disappointment, but the same team came back and made "Spider-Man 2," the best
superhero movie ever made. The "Lemony Snicket" series has enormous potential, and I
expect the next film will look just as good, and have the same wonderful kids, and be scarier
and tell more of a real story, and discover that while gloom is an atmosphere, depression is a
condition.
New York Times (Manohla Dargis) - There is something irresistible about children's books
with under-age heroes named Baudelaire and something diabolical in that two of those tots are
called Sunny and Klaus. Those unfamiliar with the cycle of books called ''A Series of
Unfortunate Events'' written by Lemony Snicket, the nom de plume of Daniel Handler, might
be alarmed at these macabre allusions, particularly since the heroes in question are 14, 12 and
a baby of indeterminate age if exceptional biting power. But it's comforting that the spirit of
Roald Dahl lives and that child readers haven't been completely subjected to the tyranny of
nice. Since the publication of the first book in the ''Unfortunate'' series several years ago, the
three Baudelaire children -- Violet, Klaus and Sunny -- have been trying to find safe harbor in
a world fraught with danger. For 11 consecutive books, the children have passed from the care
of one well-intentioned adult after another, braving the sort of peril usually faced by silentscreen heroines named Pauline and leaving a trail of corpses in their wake. To date, the cause
of their misfortunes has been their onetime guardian, Count Olaf, who hopes to steal their

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fortune. But now the characters have embarked on one of the most dangerous adventures
known in literature: their story has been turned into a major Hollywood movie.
Like all of the Baudelaires' past adventures, this latest one is filled with fanciful menace,
though here the overarching vibe is less gothic and more action-oriented. Directed by Brad
Silberling and written by Robert Gordon, the film is based on the first three books in the
''Unfortunate'' series and begins with the Baudelaires learning they have been orphaned. The
bearer of this bad news is their parents' loyal but useless lawyer, Mr. Poe (Timothy Spall),
who whisks them off to their nearest living relative, Count Olaf (Jim Carrey). Violet, Klaus
and Sunny collectively put on a brave face -- the three are played, respectively, by Emily
Browning, Liam Aiken and the twins Kara and Shelby Hoffman -- not yet aware of the threats
posed by greedy relations and very big movie stars.
Things look dodgy as soon as the Baudelaires step foot in the count's moldering mansion. In
this house of art-designed horror -- tricked out with creepy crawlers, peeling plaster and
mounds of unspeakable filth -- the children soon discover their cousin's intentions. Modest
abuse ensues, with the Baudelaires forced to make a puttanesca sauce from scratch, as does a
near-brush with death. There are serpentine twists and turns, including interludes with other
distant relations, the first with a friendly snake charmer (Billy Connolly) and the second with
a leech-fearing widow (Meryl Streep). Throughout, the young actors playing the Baudelaires
acquit themselves as admirably as do their characters, sidestepping an occasional bog of
sentimentality and bringing a human touch to a production that, as is the big-studio wont,
threatens to swallow them whole.
''A Series of Unfortunate Events'' suffers from one of the most grievous maladies that can
strike a children's film, notably a regrettable tendency to fill in all the quiet with noise.
(Slangy idioms like ''bite me'' also creep into the screenplay, disrupting the high-arch tone of
the books, which Mr. Silberling tries mightily to replicate.) Mr. Carrey's loud, showboating
performance is the worst offender in this regard. Although he's always smothered under an
impasto of special-effects makeup and assumes a number of disguises, there's no mistaking
his schtick or avoiding the look-at-me selfishness of his delivery. Both Mr. Aiken and Ms.
Browning are exceptionally appealing young performers, but it's a wonder they didn't request
oxygen masks after being forced into such close proximity with so much ham.
Mr. Silberling has made a movie that's far rougher in texture and tone than Mr. Handler's
books, but while he doesn't have the author's sense of whimsy (or irony) he manages to
construct a pleasantly watchable entertainment in all the spaces in the story not laid siege to
by Mr. Carrey.
The books might have been better served with less money and fewer special effects, since
neither their delicacy nor their charmingly idiosyncratic digressions are easily transposed
from page to screen. A miniaturist like Wes Anderson, who constructs dollhouse worlds of his
own, might have been a more appropriate match. The same goes for the visionaries behind the
beautifully filigreed credit sequence, which might just be the best bit of animation to originate
in a DreamWorks film yet.
''Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events'' is rated PG (Parental guidance suggested).
Some scenes may be too intense for nervous children, suggestible adults and small animals.
The Hollywood Reporter (Kirk Honeycutt) - "Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate
Events" demonstrates what happens when you take a clever idea and run it into the ground.
One's delight with the first act gives way to seat shifting in the second and gazing at one's
watch in the third. What should have been an utterly beguiling exploration of the dark side of
fantasy and the universal appeal of gothic wickedness devolves into a repetitive comedy that

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squanders a hugely talented cast. Nevertheless, given the popularity of the book series by
"Lemony Snicket," the pen name of Daniel Handler, and the clowning of Jim Carrey as the
story's flamboyant villain, the movie appears headed for the boxoffice stratosphere.
The droll idea behind the books is that all those "extremely unpleasant" events that occur in
fairy tales are the very things that attract young readers in the first place. Kids -- and the kid in
all of us -- love sinister villains and cruel fate. So in the stories and now in this movie, Snicket
-- a gravely funny voice-over by Jude Law -- constantly warns against impending calamities
about to befall his young heroes, even to the point of suggesting that the viewer flee to a nextdoor cinema where a much happier film is playing.
Those who stick it out encounter the unfortunate adventures of three plucky orphans (played
by Emily Browning, Liam Aiken and the infant duo of Kara and Shelby Hoffman), who must
cope with the tragic deaths of their parents and then a collection of eccentric relations who
take stabs at being their guardians. The worst of the bunch is wily Count Olaf (Carrey), who
plots to bilk the children out of their inheritance.
The film is jammed with amusing gags, one of the best has the youngest orphan, the toddler,
speak in cackles, giggles and grunts that the other two understand perfectly well. The rest of
us make do with subtitles.
Their unfortunate journey begins at the count's gloomy-looking mansion, continues to the
greenhouse-like home of Uncle Monty (Billy Connolly), then to the cliffside home of Aunt
Josephine (Meryl Streep) and culminates in a circus performance where the count and his
troupe of ne'er-do-well thespians conspire to get the count married to the 14-year-old girl to
steal the money.
Unfortunate, too, is the inability of director Brad Silberling and writer Robert Gordon to turn
a literary conceit into a cinematic adventure. Events are merely strung together rather than
allowed to build to a climax. And the events themselves possess a discouraging sameness:
Count Olaf plots to eliminate the orphans. No adult heeds the orphans' pleas. The trio escape
his clutches through their own devises.
A viewer never develops much confidence in the film's dark side. The villainy of Count Olaf
and his crew is cartoon villainy, lacking real menace. This throws off the balance between
comedy and tragedy and denies "Lemony Snicket" of the very thing it wishes to wallow in -the horrors in kiddie literature.
Carrey is again the master at physical comedy, contorting his body at gravity-defying angles
and slipping chameleon-like from disguise to disguise. Yet there is something a bit hammy to
his approach, a kind of wink to the audience that the wickedness is all play-acting.
Streep is quite funny as the unstable aunt, irrationally afraid of everything including objects
and furniture in her own home. Connolly steals all his scenes as a herpetologist who wears a
python around his neck while other reptiles wander his house. This is such a larger-than-life
character that one rues his demise.
Working with production and costume designers Rick Heinrichs and Colleen Atwood,
cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki gives "Lemony Snicket" a stylized look that bleeds all
primary colors from the scenes in favor of blacks, grays and browns. The sets are most
wonderful with all their Dickensian melancholy exaggerated to reflect a child's point of view.
If only the movie had adopted that tone.
Chicago Tribune (Robert K. Elder) - Dear reader, if you've come here to read the scandalous
scribblings of a disgruntled critic--made sour by endless hours stewing in a dark screening
room--you've come to the wrong place.

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If, however, you've come here to discover how a series of unfortunate events have
paradoxically created a cinematic achievement of whimsically bleak comedy, then you've
come to the right place.
In "Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events," an dauntingly long title that
encapsulates author Daniel Handler's affection for literary asides and flowery language,
director Brad Silberling and screenwriter Robert Gordon breathe life into Handler's demented
universe of jubilant schadenfreude--a word meaning "taking pleasure in the misery of others."
The others, in this case, are the piteous Baudelaire orphans: inventor Violet (Emily
Browning), bookworm Klaus (Liam Aiken) and sharp-toothed infant Sunny (twins Kara and
Shelby Hoffman). With the sudden demise of their beloved parents, the Baudelaire children
find themselves in the care of the monstrous Count Olaf (Jim Carrey), a cruel and
vainglorious thespian bent on stealing the Baudelaire fortune. The diabolical Count sees no
moral obstruction in arranging an untimely end for the Baudelaire trio, thereby leaving
himself as the sole heir to their collective college funds.
If you love the grimmest of Grimm Brothers' fairy tales, "Shockheaded Peter," or Edward
Gorey's tales of ill-fated curtain tuggers, then by all means continue reading. (And if you've
suffered through my self-consciously ornate prose this long, then you're probably in on the
joke and will get along famously with this motion picture.)
"Snicket" takes place in that familiar storybook zip code where children are more intelligent
than the adults, who would be a great deal smarter if they would only bend an ear to those
under 5 feet tall. And children too.
On this matter, all the actors playing the Baudelaire children aptly embody their sharp-eyed,
worldly characters. Levelheaded and resourceful, they are unheard voices of reason except for
the baby, who chews Scrabble tiles for leisure.
Conversely, comedian Carrey hams it up with high abandon as Count Olaf, walking a thin
tightrope of modestly as he chomps scenery while being carefully conscious not to obscure
the orphans' story. The actor exercised similar restraint this year's deliciously mindbending
"Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," as he blended into, not eclipsed, the complex tale.
But "restraint" is not the right word for Carrey's performance. Perhaps "psychoneurotic,"
"criminally mad" or "deliriously unhinged" serve as better descriptors. In any case, Carrey has
reinvented the Count as far more colorful, more menacingly splendiferous than he appears in
book form. This happens to be a good thing, as the Count Olaf of Lemony Snicket (a.k.a. Dan
Handler) tends to be a simply a poor actor infected with evil. Here, Carrey doesn't de-claw the
villain in the service of humor--he simply flashes a few teeth, which are also quick sharp.
Again, dear reader, "Lemony Snicket's" silly genius doesn't spring from a single performance.
Its visually arresting screen presence engages the significant talents of production designer
Rick Heinrichs, previously employed by Tim Burton on "Sleepy Hollow" and "Planet of the
Apes." Heinrichs' all-encompassing ocular candy can swallow an audience whole, thereby
increasing the movie's verisimilitude--a word here meaning "fake reality."
The final part of "Snicket's" enchantment lies in its solutions to contradictions--like how to
imbue murder, larceny and the general discomfort of its heroes into what essentially
advertises itself as entertainment for tykes. On that issue, much of "Lemony Snicket's"
mayhem takes place off camera. Other times, Jude Law (playing fictional narrator Snicket)
interrupts the action just as something particularly nasty happens.

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Even if--in the end--"Lemony Snicket's Series of Unfortunate Events" abandons its dark cloud
for a silver lining, it's still exceptionally clever, hilariously gloomy and bitingly subversive.
You have been warned.