Scaling the heights of film foolishness

A heist movie with an irritating fondness for extreme sports, starring Stephen Dorff, the kind of guy your average android would like to win in a raffle. Dorff has complicatedly highlighted hair and teeth white enough to rattle an orc. He is slight - you could fit him in your spice drawer - and acts like someone who has watched nothing but Point Break for months.

Dorff whoops it up on Rollerblades all over LA, stealing money from banks with his gang of athletic playmates. One day he paraglides into a vicious master criminal played by Steven Berkoff in an Elvis wig.

Berkoff overacts even when he's off screen. You can hear him chuntering in the background in a delirium of confused identity (he sounds like an East End boy playing a Texan preacher, with touches of a pantomime horse and Moliere's Tartuffe - truly barking).

It is foolish, foolish stuff, especially when Dorff gets to scale a rock face with no means of attachment except the series of got-to-tough-this-one- out-like-Patrick-Swayze "impressions" on his face. Baby food.

Steal
Cert: cert15

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