THE Avengers are good guys possessed of superhuman powers and occasional defects, moral or otherwise. Ultron wants to rule the world and anything else he can lay his mechanical hands on. And in fantasy movies based on so-called comic books, whatever happens on the way to the end, the good guys always win.

And that, children, is all you need to know about the plot of writer/director Joss Whedon’s futurist furious fantasy film resembling so many others of its ilk that I reckon that a good attorney could sue Marvel Studios, its producers, for plagiarism and win.

Occasionally alleviated by a gag line, its main substance is juvenile, noisy, violent, irrational stuff defying the laws of nature. The actors, some of whom have garnered wholesome and even justifiable reputations, including Oscars, spout trite pseudo-scientific dialogue, engage in derring-do acrobatics and wreak destruction on a grand scale. You get the feeling from watching them that they well understand their participation in a rubbish project that deserves to be locked away in a dark cupboard until after the end of eternity.

The film uses expensive escapism to suck in punters well aware of what they are getting for their ticket money. If that’s you, go for it. The Marvel Studios guys thank you for your financial support. All those high-priced actors, special effects crews and technicians have spouses and offspring to house and feed.
At all cinemas