Here comes a toy story of a different stripe

The thing about having a zebra in your film is that if you need one, you’re going to need two because zebras are herd animals. And for the second zebra, you’ll need a pony so he’ll have someone to hang with while the first one is shooting. But even with his entourage present, a relatively non-diva-like zebra is perfectly capable of balking at simple stage directions -- “sit on couch,” for example -- choosing instead to break an irreplaceable Tiffany lamp that has already been established in previous shots. Also a coffee table.

Which is why most directors, especially first-time directors, choose not to include a zebra in their films. They tend to avoid animals in general, as well as children and big, fussy sets that require a million camera setups.

Zach Helm, however, figures if you’re going to make your directorial debut, you might as well do it with a movie called “Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium,” which is about a magical toy shop. And if you make a movie about a magical toy shop, then you will need a zebra or two. Not to mention a goose, a lemur, dozens of children and a set so full of toys, so evocative of whimsy and wonder, so floor-to-ceiling magnificent that every shot is a ballet of execution -- but the light technicians, not to mention the stars, will occasionally grow faint from the rising heat.

Last year, the vivid heart of every child’s ultimate dream beat in a Toronto soundstage for seven glorious weeks. “Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium,” which opens Nov. 16, is about a toy store that rebels when its ancient but still lively original owner, Mr. Magorium (Dustin Hoffman), decides to pass it on to his comely but insecure assistant, Molly (Natalie Portman). The action takes place almost entirely in the store, and although some of the magic was later provided by computer graphics, the store is undeniably, certifiably real. A warehouse of toys, an explosion of toys, an FAO Schwarz by way of Willy Wonka wonderland of toys. Indeed, the set contains 10,000 of them, rises two stories and occupies 7,000 square feet of floor space.

Amid the rubber ducks and Legos and puppets, it’s difficult to spot the bank of monitors and phalanx of director’s chairs that mark where Helm, his assistant directors, producers, various actors and technicians huddle. Helm is a quiet sort of director, not prone to jumping up or shouting instructions. He prefers to meet with the cast an hour before filming begins to sort through scenes, and chat quietly with them between takes to offer suggestions or reassurance. With kids and toys and zebras, the last thing “Magorium” needed was a screaming director.

It is not difficult, however, to spot Hoffman, who, for his role, sports a lavender suit and hair that appears electrified. Or Portman. As Molly, she is slight and boyish in a striped shirt of primary colors but still much lovelier than the ordinary shopkeeper. Nor is it difficult to find the kids, more than a dozen extras who play the store’s customers when they’re not fighting over one delectably squishy ball or having footwear issues.

“He’s got really squeaky shoes,” says the sound technician of a boy walking into the scene.

“They’re just tennis shoes,” says one of the children’s assistants.

“Well, they are very squeaky tennis shoes. Get him new ones.”

Collectively and without even trying, the children raise the temperature of the set to a summer fug, about 20 degrees hotter than the brilliant spring outside. Wearing a series of suits, often fully buttoned, Hoffman quickly realized he was going to have to take steps or faint dead away. “I’m not such a young man, you know,” says the man who famously went sleepless and sweaty with Method during “Marathon Man.” Being an actor of some clout, he requested “a cooling room” -- a tented area just off the set where the air conditioner is set full blast. And there he stands, smiling and refreshed, cooling off between takes.

“This is not what I would have chosen for my first film,” he says at one point of Helm’s choice. “Magic and children, and so much of it takes place in the toy store, which is hard to keep fresh.”

Pint-sized rapport

It’s a compliment, of course; he signed on to “Magorium” pretty much instantly after having finished the Will Ferrell-starrer “Stranger Than Fiction,” which Helm wrote. Hoffman and Portman seem to be having a pretty good time, despite the heat and the long days. Midway through the shoot, they’re easy and friendly with the kids, including costar Zach Mills, or “Little Zach” as he is referred to, with Helm being “Big Zach.” In one scene, Hoffman lifts up a little girl so she can reach a toy on a high shelf. On the third or fourth take, as he puts her down, he offers her a little career advice: “Say, ‘Thank you,’ sweetheart, and you’ll get SAG minimum.”

Kids also give deadlines a weightier, which is to say, legal, meaning. A scene in which Hoffman and Portman walk and talk their way through the store among the children has required a half-dozen takes -- the rhythm of the speech is wrong, a line is forgotten, a child bumped into -- but finally Helm has to wrap because it is 5 ‘clock and the kids have to leave. “C’mon,” Hoffman says. “One more time. Isn’t there someone to bribe?” “It’s fine,” Helm says, as the kids file out to their waiting parents. “It’s fine.”

“This is why kids’ movies take so long,” the assistant director sighs. And that’s without the zebra, or the goose, although the goose -- brought in to play, what else, Duck, Duck, Goose -- was a real professional, nailing her performance in one take. “She was better than the kids,” says Helm. And certainly better than the zebra, which wreaked all sorts of havoc -- the Tiffany lamp had to be digitally removed from scenes previously shot.

“That’s what happens when you want the real thing, and this is the real thing,” says production designer Therese DePrez with a shrug. She visited toy stores around the world to create the mixture of old and new, classic and fantastic that fills the emporium. Helm, who based the script on his experiences working in a toy store, wanted an old-fashioned movie, despite the CG revolution of Narnia and Hogwarts. “Kids running around, a goose running around,” DePrez says, “and if Zach wants a zebra, he gets a zebra.”

Those issues are nothing, she says, compared with the super ball problem. One bin on the set is filled with super balls and people keep walking off with them. “At some point, everyone has forgotten this is a set,” DePrez says. “Everyone seems to think it’s a real toy store. And the adults are worse than the kids. We have people coming in asking if they can have this toy or that toy because they remember it from their childhood or whatever. I have to remind them that this is not real life, it is a movie and we need the super balls.”

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mary.mcnamara@latimes.com