Lemony Snicket sits high in a clock tower, typing away amidst the turning cogs, narrating the unceasingly sad story of the Baudelaire orphans whose parents perished in a mysterious fire. So begins this film, based on the very books the mysterious Mr. Snicket is seen writing (although, truth be told, that's not actually how the film begins, but -- well, you'll see).

Lemony Snicket, portrayed here entirely in silhouette by Jude Law, is the alter ego of one Daniel Handler, who until recently was not recognized as the author of this popular series of childrens' novels. The series, which is up to installment number eleven now, is perfectly delightful -- or at least the first one is, that being the only one I've read. I found it to be a whimsical mixture of Roald Dahl and Charles Dickens, and I've been assured the subsequent volumes are just as good. You may hear the novels mentioned in the same breath as the Harry Potter books, and while Snicket's tales are not magical in nature, they do share with J.K. Rowling's series an understanding of the appeal which dark and scary stories hold to children (also like the Potter books, they've turned a generation of children into rabid readers of quality literature, a feat quite wonderful and magical in its own right); there's that annoying notion that children's entertainment must be innocuous, when in fact most kids thrive on material that challenges them and emboldens them against their own fears . I'm not saying that all children's entertainment needs to be dark, but think back to your own childhood; the stories you probably remember the most fondly involve death, sadness, frustration (I'm personally thinking of Pinnochio, Peter Pan, The Wizard Of Oz, in case you were wondering, not to mention all of Dahl's charming books and the films based upon them) and you're probably a better person for having heard/seen/read them.

The Baudelaire children certainly would understand this: 14 year old Violet (Emily Browning), 10 year old Klaus (Liam Aiken) and the baby Sunny (Kara and Shelby Hoffman) are all exceptionally intelligent and capable children whose tragic predicament leads them to all sorts of situations in which they must confront the death of both of their loved ones and, potentially, themselves. Upon discovery of their parent's death, they are issued by decree of law -- as represented by blustery lawyer Mr. Poe (Timothy Spall) -- into the care of their estranged uncle, Count Olaf. Count Olaf is a prancing, preening, conceited and rather nefarious old man who looks not a lot unlike Jim Carrey by way of what surely must be his namesake: Count Orlock, the vampire from Murnau's Nosferatu.

Olaf does little to hide his intentions for the children; he wants to do away with them and inherit the fortune their parents bequeathed to them. He has them slave away in his dilapidated mansion, cleaning and cooking dinner for his acting troupe, until a good opportunity for murder presents itself to him, at which point he locks the kids in his car after parking it across the breadth of railroad tracks. They escape, of course, and at this point, scarcely thirty minutes into the movie, the events of the first book have been covered and the story movies on to the second, which was entitled The Reptile Room in its printed form. Mr. Poe removes the children from Olaf's care and leaves them with a different estranged uncle named Monty (Billy Connolly), an expert in all forms of rare reptile life.

And thus the film continues, and thus one can find its most obvious flaw: the books, while delightful as individual installments, seem to tell the same story repeatedly. The orphans are consistently turned over to new guardians while Count Olaf conspires to return them to under his own wing, succeeds to an extent, and is then thwarted. Uncle Monty is followed by Aunt Josephine (Meryl Streep), a nervous nelly who lives in a house hanging off the side of a cliff. Olaf shows up in both instances wearing a disguise that fools the adults but that the children instantly see through; their ingenuity always saves them, although the grownups are generally not so lucky. There's probably not enough material in each novel to warrant a feature length film, and combining a handful of them seems like a great idea in theory; in practice, it's a little too episodic. On the one hand, Carrey is hilarious in his various disguises (his Italian snake expert is the best), but on the other he's never better than when he's Olaf. Olaf is a funny character, too, but he's also an undeniably malevolent presence, one that is somewhat lacking from the middle section of the film.

But perhaps this is more apparent to me because I've only read one book; certain complaints have probably been waged against the Harry Potter series, but so beloved are those stories to me that I'm often oblivious to their faults. Here, without the benefit of noticing all the little details and asides that the fans will surely catch, everyone else is left to spot...well, prominent actors in nonexistant parts, for one thing. Law, Spall, Connolly and Streep are all well used, but why does Luis Guzman keep showing up when he doesn't get a single line of dialogue? Jane Adams and Jennifer Coolidge don't fare much better, and Cedric The Entertainer gets about as much screen time as Dustin Hoffman, who appears in exactly three shots. I suppose this was a nod to Moonlight Mile, in which Hoffman starred; that was the previous film helmed by Brad Silberling, who many years ago tried his darndest to land the job of making the first Harry Potter film; perhaps this is his consolation prize?

If so, he makes the best of it. Moonlight Mile was a wonderfully assured and heartfelt film, unfairly ignored when it was released in 2002. Here, he creates a perfect tone of light black comedy and, while the film is episodic, each episode is well orchestrated. Even more impressive is the world he's created. With its eerie fairie tale imagery, comparisons to German Expressionism and Tim Burton may be frequent (and indeed, the cinematographer, Emmanuelle Lubeszki, worked with Burton on Sleepy Hollow; costume designer Colleen Atwood is a regular credit on his films; and production designer Rick Heinrichs and Burton have a history that goes all the way back to Burton's first animate short film, Vincent), but it really has a look all its own; an alternate world in which the archictecture and clothing wouldn't look out of place Oliver Twist's London, but in which there are also automobiles that have have alarm systems and the characters who by both telephone and fax machine. It's a gorgeous fugue of influences; likewise, the characters speak in various accents, so that it's impossible to pin down exactly where this world is. Wherever it is, it's a wonderful place. The type you want to read about, if not necessarily visit.

Silberling also understands that children have an innate sense of optimism; that's why they can handle stories like this, and that's why the Baudelaires take so valiantly to their trials and tribulations. He gives them all a few moments to break down and give up, but they always bounce back with impressive alacrity (sometimes literally, in the case of Sunny). Of the young actors, Browning, with her wise and haunted face, makes the biggest impression. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Sunny, whose goohs and gahs are transcribed almost verbatim from the book (along with the subtitles suggesting what she wants to say), is quite charming, never so much as when she's hanging from the kitchen table by her teeth. Liam Aiken, it should be noted, is in a position similar to Silberling's; were he not an American actor, the role of Harry Potter would have likely gone to him. I think, though, that he's ended up in the right series. He's got a world weary look about him that fits Klaus far more than it would have fit Harry.

The story is of course left open for a sequel, and there's plenty of subsequent text typed out by Mr. Snicket to cull one from; but I wonder if perhaps it's not quite open enough. It wraps up far too nicely, I think, and there's a sense of finality about the ending that suggests the studios aren't quite sure this will make enough money to instantly warrant a second chapter. I hope it does. My problems with it aside, this is a decent film; along with The Incredibles and Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban, A Series Of Unfortunate Events is sufficient proof that there are people in Hollywood who know how to tell the stories that kids will remember. This isn't an instant classic like those two other films might be, but it could be the first in a long, memorable story. If not, if we don't get to see the further adventures of the Baudelaire orphans on the big screen -- well, it'll never hurt kids to read instead.