Nemo’s female pal is a swimmingly good star

Marine Life Institute, Sigourney Weaver becomes a crucial character. To say how would spoil the surprise, but essentially Weaver has a “Being John Malkovich” moment, mocking her own iconic power in a way that makes you want to kiss her toes.

Meanwhile, a pair of cliquey, cockney sea Lions (Idris Elba and Dominic West) are good for a sophisticated chuckle. Ditto myopic whale shark Destiny, self-doubting beluga whale Bailey, and an antisocial, handicapped Octopus known as Hank. The latter loathes pleasantries (“Why does everyone say ‘I’m fine’? Newsflash: nobody is fine!”)

Elsewhere, a group of kiddie fish flock around an unconscious Dory and then, upon learning she’s not dead, emit a collective groan. Of disappointment. Nemo (as ever, the weak link in this franchise) emits empathy from dawn till dusk. It’s when the film explores a more elastic range of emotions that it works best.

Still, even then, it rarely startles. Hank’s chameleon-act may be technically stunning but is too reminiscent of the one performed by lizard Randall Boggs (Monsters Inc). Hyperactive kids at a touching pool resemble the toddlers who wreak havoc in the Caterpillar Room (Toy Story 3). Hank’s driving skills recall those of Buzz Lightyear (Toy Story 2). And so on.

Finding Dory is inferior to Finding Nemo (and both Toy Story sequels). Those films are tesseracts, this one’s a cube. That said, to label it average somehow misses the point. When faced with hard choices, several characters murmur, “What would Dory do?” Such is the power of this character, I found myself asking the same question. Unable to compare the present with the past, she’d happily give the film four stars. Blessed are the forgetful, for they don’t let blunders spoil their fun.