The expensive and spectacular special effects in X-Men Origins: Wolverine are small miracles of technology. It’s a ravishing looking film, not least because the star, Hugh Jackman, who plays the title hero, is arguably the most physically perfect specimen of cinema beefcake in Hollywood. He is the real visual magnet, despite, or perhaps because of, the metal claws that sprout from his fists whenever he gets angry.

The story was never going to get in the way of the pay cheques. Gavin Hood’s edition of the Marvel cartoon myth, which has been turned into a sort of live-action fairground ride, is complete nonsense. But here it is anyway: Hugh Jackman and his beastly brother, Liev Schreiber, realise they are probably more werewolf than man. Or are they? The young kids kill their bullying father in 1845, run away from home, fight in the American Civil War, win the First World War, lose their virginity in Vietnam and are eventually recruited by an insane Colonel (Danny Huston) who wants to milk their superhuman powers.

The marvellous and eerie gift the brothers share is that they are pretty much indestructible. They are also the cartoon incarnations of Cain and Abel. So when the bloodthirsty Schreiber shreds the female love of Jackman’s life, the film dissolves into a monolithic duel between the brothers. The novel innovation is that these hairy wolves move in contrary ways. That is the dismal sum of the original thinking.

12A, 111 mins

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