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A PHAROAH TO REMEMBER...

After two middling installments, the third Night At The Museum is finally one to remember – though not perhaps for the reasons Ben Stiller and director Shawn Levy might have hoped for when they began shooting their London-based trilogy-closer last February. Since then, of course, we’ve bid farewell to both Mickey Rooney and Robin Williams, lending a poignancy to proceedings that, if unearned, still makes for a more touching finale than fans of the film’s 2006 and 2009 predecessors may have been expecting.

There's also an element of genuine jeopardy this time around, a weird “green rust” on the series’ Egyptian relic-slash-MacGuffin threatening to rob it of its exhibit-animating powers. That’s bad news for Williams' Teddy Roosevelt mannequin, Owen Wilson’s miniature cowboy and the rest of Stiller’s nocturnal buddies, though not for a series that benefits hugely from a plot-mandated change of locale, a new (British) museum and a fresh bunch of waxworks for night-owl Larry to hang with.

Ok, so we could have done without Stiller’s caveman doppelganger ‘Laaa’. But this is more than compensated for by Dan Stevens’ Lancelot, a swaggering newbie straight out of Python with a Buzz Lightyear-like aversion to admitting he’s not real. The scene in which he gatecrashes a revival of Camelot is a particular hoot. But the most inventive sequence has Larry and Teddy plunge into an MC Escher painting, an interlude so dazzling you can almost overlook the weeing monkey.