THE BOOK OF HENRY

miraculously escapes with her dignity intact. This is despite her character being described as a “professor in a stripper dress” and being obliged to perform a zero-gravity pole dance during one of the many lengthy action sequences.

Anthony Hopkins’ broader eccentricities are unleashed as Sir Edmund Burton, a historian with back-door channels to Downing street.

He explains the sub-Da Vinci Code nonsense as they chase about in castles and stately homes in pursuit of the staff of Merlin. It’s the weapon of ultimate power. Which is useful as the robot planet Cybertron is en route to suck all life out of planet Earth. And me... Cert Running time

Director Colin Trevorrow’s previous film was the box office behemoth Jurassic World, and the next one will be Star Wars: Episode IX.

It’s coming to a galaxy near you in 2019. One was a monster hit and the other’s success is virtually guaranteed.

Which is just as well because this pet project of his is one of the most mawkish and most misjudged movies of the year.

A shambles strewn with scenes of awful inappropriateness, it’s a coming of age fable for adults, a silly and sanctimonious ghost story, and a dull heist movie.

Henry is a gifted eleven year old and part-time stock broker whose death leaves his mother distraught.

However he’s left her a book of instructions with which she can find solace and save the young girl next door from her wicked step uncle.

Rarely has a film so bonkers in concept managed to be so boring and inept in execution.

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