Al Pacino and Robert De Niro are a pair of ancient NYPD cops on the tail of a psychopathic vigilante in Righteous Kill. Predictably, the chemistry between the two detectives is the major McGuffin in Jon Avnet’s thriller. The two actors share 120 years of Hollywood history on the mean streets of New York, and they hog the screen like a couple of retired and tipsy golfers.

A guilty finger is pointed at De Niro when a string of rapists, serial killers, child molesters, pimps and gun-runners end up in bloody heaps after they wriggle off the hook on legal technicalities. A grainy and guilty confession caught on a CCTV camera – and shown at regular intervals throughout the film – backs up this murky line of inquiry. But the investigation into each glossy murder has a juicy Cluedo alternative.

Could it be Carla Gugino’s insatiable nymphomaniac with a scalpel in the laboratory? Or Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson’s hip-hop singer with a bag of heroin in the nightclub? Or chippy cop John Leguizamo, with the revolver in the changing rooms? And why does the killer leave a poem behind after each murder? Oh don’t torture yourself.

The plot is irrelevant because the film is utterly infatuated with the two big egos. De Niro is a loyal “pitbull on crack” kind of cop. Pacino is a waffly chess-playing thinker. They love each other to bits of course. They butt heads. And only a damn fool would get in the way.

15, 110 minutes

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