When the final audit is in, Mr Magorium’s greatest problem will not come from the Inland Revenue or the health and safety department, but from the enforcers of the Trades Descriptions Act.

Sure, the toys are alive - and not many shops have minds of their own - but there’s an inescapable familiarity about this emporium that leave you with a distinct lack of wonder.

Writer-director Helm has created the movie equivalent of a pop-up book in which too many pages fall flat and too many ideas feel second-hand.

It borrows wholesale from the likes of Jumanji, The Indian In The Cupboard, Big and - most obviously - Willy Wonka, though Hoffman’s Magorium is less like the famous chocolatier than the dotty uncle of Rain Man.

With a lisp and a totter, the 243-year-old dispenses wisdom and sentiment to the wide-eyed young patrons of his shop, but saves most of it for his sweet yet insecure manager Molly Maloney (Portman).

Maloney aspires to be a composer but, despite her lack of self-belief, Mr Magorium knows that her true destiny is to conduct the affairs at the store. You see, he’s leaving. For good.

But not before the paperwork is sorted out by humourless auditor Henry (Bateman), who remains oblivious when Magorium’s news sends the shop into a sulk. The toys stage a revolt and the colour starts to drain from everything inside.

You can imagine similar scenes if Hamley’s announced they were being taken over by Toys R Us.

On hand to save the day is young regular Eric (Mills), helping Maloney find her ‘sparkle’ and putting Henry back in touch with his sense of imagination.

Yet strangely, Eric has no friends his own age, despite being bright, chatty and - penchant for wearing funny hats aside – no weirder than any other nine-year-old.

Stranger still, his mum doesn’t bat an eyelid when she finds a grown man playing in her son’s bedroom. Of course it’s only good old Henry, but no matter how innocent the context, it’s a highly dubious scene.

What’s also odd is that this is a children’s film in which the life lessons apply almost exclusively to adults: accept death; control your own fate; banish scepticism; stay young at heart.

Schmaltzy musical cues ensure we all get the message, but the desperately dull final third is likely to drive both kids and grown-ups to nose-picking, seat-kicking distraction.

Elliott Noble