REVIEW: Mortdecai

Starring: Johnny Depp, Gwyneth Paltrow, Paul Bettany, Ewan McGregor, Guy Burnet, Jonny Pasvolsky, Jeff Goldblum, Olivia Munn, Paul Whitehouse.

Director: David Koepp.

Released: January 23 (UK & Ireland)

IN David Koepp's poorly executed crime caper, the eponymous hero repeatedly seeks assurances from his hulking manservant that their hare-brained mission to retrieve a stolen painting will end in success.

"I couldn't say, sir," dryly responds the lackey.

Well I could say: it will end in boredom, despair and disbelief, and an occasional sympathetic titter for a starry cast, who have to wrap their weary laughing gear around the flaccid one-liners that litter Eric Aronson's haphazard script.

Based on the first book of author Kyril Bonfiglioli's cult trilogy, Mortdecai is an anachronistic tale of puckish rogues, swordplay and bitter love rivalry, which lampoons a culture of privilege that remains blissfully out of touch with the grim realities of modern life.

The irreverence and borderline insanity of Bonfiglioli's writing fails to mesh with exaggerated performances, cartoon violence and Carry On-style innuendos.

As depictions of stereotypical British aristocracy go, this is more Downmarket Shabby than Downton Abbey.

Johnny Depp proudly combs his moustache and adopts a velvety British accent as art dealer Charlie Mortdecai, who is in dire financial straits.

"We're staring down the barrel of insolvency," despairs his luscious wife Johanna (Gwyneth Paltrow), who is denying her husband physical satisfaction until he removes the manicured monstrosity from his exceedingly stiff upper lip.

All hope seems lost for Charlie - it's lost for us in the film's opening sequence - until high-ranking MI5 officer Alistair Martland (Ewan McGregor) and his sidekick Maurice (Guy Burnet) pay a visit to Mortdecai manor.

A priceless Goya masterpiece, rumoured to contain the code to a secret bank account of Nazi millions, has been stolen from a restoration house by revolutionary Emil Strago (Jonny Pasvolsky).

The police implore Mortdecai to use his shady connections to locate and retrieve the painting before Strago can sell it to finance a violent worldwide uprising.

Flanked by trusty manservant Jock Strapp (Paul Bettany), Charlie criss-crosses the globe in search of his prize, aided by dodgy car mechanic Spinoza (Paul Whitehouse), American billionaire Milton Krampf (Jeff Goldblum) and his nymphomaniac daughter (Olivia Munn).

Mortdecai is a car crash of broad physical comedy, crass culture clashes and preposterous action sequences, draped awkwardly around Depp's predictably showy performance.

Channelling the spirit of Terry Thomas replete with gap tooth, though none of the charm, Depp careens from one limp scene to the next like a bull in a cheap china shop.

Paltrow struggles to catalyse screen chemistry with her buffoonish leading man while Bettany takes most of the bruising punches in the skirmishes that punctuate an outlandish plot.

It's a mystery how some of the so-called gags - "The file was thick and well-handled like a Welsh barmaid" - will translate for audiences across the Atlantic.

On these rarefied shores, it's toe-curling comedy tumbleweed.

3/10

Damon Smith