Simon Wincer directs Billy Zane, Catherine Zeta-Jones and Treat Williams in this stodgily faithful adaptation of the 1930’s comic book avenger.

A movie in concept you want to hold onto and cuddle but which proves so lacking in any meaty curve or satisfying edge in reality that it is difficult to gain any meaningful traction with it. The intention is clearly to play this as straight as possible, and period true also, but achingly so. It means everything is po faced and slowly paced – an anomaly from the era that gave us Con Air and Independence Day. In his stringent avoidance of camp Wincer’s face value direction neuters both Billy Zane and Treat Williams (two usually unsubtle but distinctive actors who could easily wink this into a more fun movie given a bit more rope) and leaves you begging it to just amp things up a notch. The derring-do is well staged (Vic Armstrong stunts with 90s budgets are always going to catch the eye) and it all looks like it should be a romp despite itself. Spielberg showed with Raiders and Jurassic Park he uniquely understands that no matter how much realism you instill into these revivals of the cliffhanger adventure series, you still need a touch of modern anarchy and self-awareness to make it flow.

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