ARMAGEDDON (Directed by Michael Bay. Starring Bruce Willis, Liv Tyler, Billy Bob Thornton, Steve Buscemi, Ben Affleck, Peter Stormare).

It’s here, it’s huge, it’s DEAFENINGLY loud, it’s a feast for the eyes, it’s stupider and more preposterous than an a cappella cover version of The Birdie Song, and it’s just about good-naturedly entertaining enough to qualify as by far the best blockbuster of the season (which, in the great scheme of things, is fairly unflattering, a bit like saying that Hibs’ phenomenal strength in depth clearly sets them a class above their rivals in the murky bowels of the Scottish first division).

That Armageddon displays all the wisdom, wit and insight of a confused amnesiac comes as no surprise whatsoever, and is largely beside the point, since the shamelessly over-the-top direction of Simpson/Bruckheimer protégé Michael Bay keeps the whole project hurtling along at such a breakneck speed that all rational objections are soon disarmed. I grinned most of the way through Armageddon, so while I acknowledge its status as idiotic summertime cack, I am in no position to leap aboard any moral high-horse. The summer’s previous judgement-day blockbuster – Deep Impact – also promised an apocalyptic vision of the End of the World and left a taste in the viewer’s mouth fouler than the noxious fumes of nuclear fallout itself. Armageddon wins the day by maintaining a chipper sense of tongue-in-cheek humour throughout and when it eventually runs out of dramatic steam (as it does) there’s always another explosion coming along to keep the attention engaged.

The cheesiness factor is a little too high for comfort, it needs to be said, with lashings of elegiac instrumental music and no shortage of dispiritingly corny one-liners, but Armageddon’s visual sheen combines with the energetic zest of the cast to smooth out the drawbacks. An approaching asteroid threatens to obliterate all life on Planet Earth, and the world has only three weeks in which to save its skin. Fragmented particles of the offending asteroid begin to rain down on New York and Paris leaving carnage and devastation in their wake, and the director of NASA (an unusually respectable-looking Billy Bob Thornton) hires a team of the world’s best deepcore oil drillers to nuke the asteroid just before it reaches the moon (simple, really) and solve the problem.

Bruce Willis is perfectly cast as the irascible, twinkle-eyed leader of the gang, although the luscious/horsey-featured (take your pick) Liv Tyler provides unbearably wooden support as the token totty (or ‘love interest’, if you insist). Steve Buscemi, as ever, is a joy to watch in a self-deprecating performance as a compulsive Casanova, although it would probably require all the special-effects trickery money can buy to transform Ol’Bug Eyes into a credible womaniser. As for Ben Affleck, I’m sorry, but there’s something about his face that I can’t warm to for the life of me. That said, the script engenders an excellent chemistry and infectious sense of camaraderie between the various members of the motley gang, and the general clunkiness of the dialogue is offset by a few surprisingly sharp one-liners.

Despite its undoubted delivery in the Bigger! Better! Faster! More! department, Armageddon still can’t resist the temptation to outstay its welcome and takes a taxing two-and-a-half hours to finally run its course. The quality of the acting is erratic at best, and the same goes for the script. But as loud, explosive eye-candy goes, it’s several light-years advanced in quality from the Godzillas and Batman Returnses that we’ve endured of late, and should serve as a timely and object lesson to blockbuster directors and producers: keep it fast, loud, colourful, but just keep it fast, and the audience will not need to worry excessively about the plot or the subtext. For the most part, Armageddon serves up as much fun as it’s possible to have with your brain switched off.