Mr Popper's Penguins

Jim Carrey’s first live-action film in two years puts the gurner extraordinaire in the role of New York real-estate tycoon Tom Popper, whose cunning business acumen and selfish lifestyle are challenged when he inherits a huddle of penguins from his late father. When his fellow company directors insist he secures the deed to an historic restaurant in Central Park, he sets about using his smarmy methods of persuasion. But the crotchety owner (Angela Lansbury) is having none of it.

To make matters worse, his ex-wife (Carla Gugino) continues to lambast him for showing no interest in their kids. Luckily for him, those penguins’ arrival instigates a remarkable volte-face that not only brings our preoccupied hero down to earth but shows every sign of healing the family rift. Ahh – or rather argh!

Once you’ve reached down and gathered up the remnants of your jaw, there’s a thin veneer of amusement to be had from watching a gaggle of awkward Antarctic flappers lay waste to a modern apartment, cause a furore at a posh business party and generally waddle about dispensing Chaplin-style slapstick at every turn.

Easy-to-please knee-highs will almost certainly chuckle at all the farting, pooing, squawking and bumping into things, and I confess to smirking a couple of times too. But holy mother of pearl, talk about superficial claptrap! Still, at least there’s a deep-seated moral attached to this pea-brained parable: if your business is failing and your love life waning, just pick up a penguin. Slap! Ouch! Sorry, couldn’t resist.