Adapted from a series of children’s stories by Christianna Brand, Nanny McPhee arrives as a garish update of Mary Poppins vs The Sound of Music (without the music). Colin Firth trots out his amiably hopeless routine as the single-father of a brood of brats. Distracted by the death of his wife, poor old Colin has no time to love his potentially loveable children. Enter stern, warty Nanny McPhee (Emma Thompson) who brings them in line, loosing one of many inexplicable blemishes every time the kids learn a lesson.

Set in an Olde Englande of extreme colours and design, Nanny McPhee is a baffling screenplay from the two-time Oscar winner. Devoid of Thompson’s natural wit (and that of Jones, the writer/director of Waking Ned Devine), one suspects interfering studio hands demanding a ‘global’ product. The result is as off-putting as it is uneven: a scene in which magical McPhee makes a horse imitate a child illustrates how misguided this film has become. The weirdness is compounded by a cast of Cuckoo kids whose creepy child-adult-actor ways recall Culkin at his most Home Alone creepiness.

Broad design is supported by even broader performances – especially those of rich Aunt Angela Lansbury and rapacious husband-hunter Imrie. That said, they inject the lumpy production with some welcome moments of levity, albeit delivered directly from the panto stage. Despite the best intentions of all involved, in a summer that has already seen Potter, Kong and Narnia, it is hard to imagine kids being all that enthusiastic about poor old Nanny McPhee.

// COLIN FRASER