The Baudelaire orphans (L-R) Shelby Hoffman, Emily Browning and Liam Aiken) face their enemy, Count Olaf in Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events.

The perfect source for nightmares -- as far as appearance-conscious adults are concerned -- is watching handsome actor Christian Bale waste away to a human skeleton as a paranoid insomniac in director Brad Anderson's skin-crawling thriller, The Machinist.

The creepiest fright for children, the kind of scare that pushes them to the back of their seat in the movie theater, is discovering your home in a pile of ashes and becoming newly orphaned, the chief grief at the heart of the playfully icky children's film, Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events.

It's scary for children to be left alone, cast out into the world, especially if the world is as weird as the one in the popular children's books known collectively as A Series of Unfortunate Events, written by the mysterious Lemony Snicket (the series has recently reached 11 volumes).

Director Brad Silberling (Moonlight Mile, Casper) combines Lemony Snicket's (aka author Daniel Handler) first three books -- The Bad Beginning, The Reptile Room and The Wide Window -- into one feature-length film. Silberling's task is challenging: Create a singular story with a clear beginning, middle and end out of the books' numerous cliffhanger adventures.

While Silberling and screenwriter Robert Gordon fail to create a creepy family classic worthy of the Lemony Snicket name, there are plenty of thrills, including Jim Carrey's clownish performance as the film's chief villain, Count Olaf, to recommend.

The newly orphaned Baudelaire children, 14-year-old Violet (Emily Browning), an ingenious inventor; 12-year-old Klaus (Liam Aiken), a bookworm with encyclopedic knowledge; and infant Sunny (played by 2-year-old twins Shelby and Kara Hoffman), who bites everything, bounce from one eccentric relative to another after their parents are killed in a strange but devastating house fire.

Olaf is the conniving and devilish distant relative who becomes the children's guardian. He is after their inheritance and will do whatever is necessary to get it. The film's best moment, where the thrills and chills mix into a bubbly brew, have the Baudelaires trapped in Olaf's car, parked intentionally at an isolated railroad crossing with a speeding train on its way.

A bobble head doll becomes the key to their rescue, proving that no matter how elaborate Olaf's murderous attempts might be, the ingenious Baudelaire children will always outwit him. Roly-poly Timothy Spall provides the chief gag in Lemony Snicket as Mr. Poe, the clueless banker and executor of the Baudelaire estate. He never listens to the Baudelaire children, even when they're right.

Jude Law's energetic narration as the mysterious Lemony Snicket keeps the story moving forward. Shaggy Billy Connelly brings a brief burst of joy into the Baudelaire children's lives as their colorful Uncle Monty, the owner of exotic two-headed snakes and three-eyed frogs. With a puffy, black dress, oversized eyeglasses and a towering helmet of gray hair, Meryl Streep is a whirling dervish as the children's Aunt Josephine, a woman fearful of everything.

Yet, the campy crown and award for well-placed overacting belongs to Carrey as the creepy, funny Olaf. Carrey has plenty of clownish tools at his disposal: a crooked nose, salt and pepper sideburns, deep-set eyes and a curly goatee and a thick eyebrow that runs beneath his slanted forehead. But the elaborate hair and makeup design and Colleen Atwood's outrageous costumes are mere tools for Carrey's verbal antics, rubbery body language and pinpoint comic timing.

Earlier in the year, Carrey tried his hand at subdued as jilted boyfriend Joel Barish in director Michel Gondry's muddled comedy, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. For Lemony Snicket, Carrey is at full gusto, creating a parade of crazy characters that pays homage to Peter Sellers in Dr. Strangelove or Jerry Lewis in Family Jewels.

In a movie stacked with things -- a messy house with dishes piled to the ceiling, a New England fishing village, a teetering house on stilts and a dark lake filled with carnivorous leeches -- Carrey stands head and shoulders above the elaborate sets. But the Baudelaire children, the heroes of the story, are surprisingly dull, considering their lives are constantly on the line.

The comical creepiness in Lemony Snicket owes plenty to Tim Burton's Edward Scissorhands, but Silberling lacks Burton's macabre sense of imagination. As a result, Lemony Snicket is scary fun, but not scary perfection. It's worth noting that the Lemony Snicket books are banned in Decatur, Ga. -- censors took offence at Olaf's attempts to marry Violet in order to get their fortune -- but the movie will play there.

Wind, rain and scary nights continue to generate chills, and Olaf will always escape and torment the Baudelaire children another day. This means more Lemony Snicket films are forthcoming, another shot at getting it better.

Take one look at Christian Bale in director Brad Anderson's surreal horror movie, The Machinist, by far the best frightener of 2004, and the nightmares start coming. As factory worker Trevor Reznik, an average Joe battling extended insomnia, Bale's constantly darting eyes are unnerving. His ghostly white skin generates gasps. But Reznik's creepiest feature -- the aspect of Bale's performance attracting the most attention -- is a wasted frame with ribs poking through his flesh.

Bale will become world famous after director Christopher Nolan's Batman Begins opens next summer, but it's hard to imagine a performance as unforgettable as The Machinist. Bale is tense from start to finish, re-creating the emotional decline of a decent man on the brink of complete, paranoid dementia.

Of all his performances -- the yuppie serial killer in American Psycho, an uptight med student in Laurel Canyon -- his frightening appearance in The Machinist is that rare performance in complete service to the film surrounding it. Clearly, there is nothing Bale would not have tried in order to bring the character Reznik alive.

Jennifer Jason Leigh gives steady support as Stevie, a hooker who cares for Trevor but is unable to stop his decline. Pretty Aitana Sanchez-Gijon is an airport waitress who crosses Trevor's path. John Sharian is the mysterious coworker, Ivan, who shows up whenever trouble occurs, and Michael Ironside provides the film's bloodiest jolt as the victim of a gruesome accident.

Cinematographer Xavier Giménez wraps Bale in a stark factory setting of drab gray walls and hulking machinery. Composer Roque Baños adds to the creepiness with an eerie, theremin-influenced score.

Anderson, who earned his reputation with the quirky romances, Next Stop, Wonderland and Happy Accidents, betters his previous horror film, the under-seen Session 9, with frequent jolts and unexpected scares. With The Machinist, he has made a film worthy of Alfred Hitchcock and Roman Polanski.