In 2415, the survivors of an apocalyptic global plague live in a walled paradise by the name of Bregna, presided over by Trevor Goodchild and his brother Oren. But all is not well in the in the city - a police state in which people have a worrying habit of disappearing and the populace are haunted by strange dreams. Freedom fighters the Monicans send in their most skilled operative to bring down the city's leaders. Her name is Aeon Flux, an acrobatic assassin out for revenge against the men she blames for her sister's death.

The script by Phil Hay and Matt Manfred is one of the most appalling piles of piffle I've had the misfortune to see translated to the screen in recent times. It is a nonsensical collection of science fiction stereotypes (will a utopian future society ever turn out to be just that?), wishy-washy existential angst, obvious plot twists and stupid nihilism ("We're meant to die; that's what makes anything we do matter."). There are a couple of mildly diverting central conceits, but they are tangled up in such a web of plot holes and contrivances that you won't care by the time the film is over. The dialogue would probably fit on the back of a matchbook and is of such shoddy quality that I'm surprised it hasn't been subject to a product recall. When Aeon says at the climax "Now we can move forwards", you want to add "because now there isn't a dirty great wall in the way!" In fact some of the script is so risible that you might actually find yourself slapping your forehead in disbelief. The plot twists are similarly laughable; the "surprise" bad guy may as well be carrying a flashing neon sign declaring himself as such. At least he has a clear goal, unlike the majority of the characters, who seem content to follow orders like automata. This doesn't make for terribly sympathetic protagonists and you'll be willing them to die almost as soon as you see them. It feels like most of the story has been lost in the editing process, with the audience being asked to make unreasonable leaps of imagination in an attempt to make the film make some kind of sense.

Oscar nominee Sophie Okonedo gives a sulky, constipated performance as Aeon's multi-handed sidekick Sithandra. She's never given enough to do and one gets the feeling her stunt double spent more time on set than she did. But I suppose playing second fiddle to the tree-maiden was always going to be a thankless task. You can tell Frances McDormand is only too aware that she's made critical misfire by appearing in this movie. She seems caught between dismay and sheer horror as the mysterious Handler, clad in a hideous orange fright wig and a dress left over from a Victorian melodrama. At least she gets off lighter than poor old Pete Postlethwaite. Once the most employable British man in movies, he's now reduced to playing a wrinkled human haemorrhoid dressed in a duvet condom frock. His decision to throw in a weird child voice doesn't help his cause.

The score lacks consistency in either tone or style, settling for being almost as loud as the action and omnipresent. It uses all the usual science fiction themes; chimes one minute, foreboding choral vocals the next. There are a couple of nice touches - some sinister solo piano, feline strings and pounding bass. But it all reverts to the now standard modern science fiction staple of industrial beats and metallic percussion. Still at least we're saved the inevitable rock track until the end credits.