STARGATE (Directed by Roland Emmerich. Starring Kurt Russell, James Spader, Jaye Davidson, Alexis Cruz)

The great thing about science fiction, as any fourth former can tell you, is the way it can, like, reflect sort of allegorically and satirically and metaphorically and other words ending with a double L and a Y on the way things are now, human nature and all that. But if Stargate is any reflection on the way things are, then we are truly fucked.

Just the casting of old square-head Kurt Russell and slimy James Spader as the heroic leads in a big budget sci-fi spectacular should be enough to tell you that whoever made this must have had their brains stolen by aliens. Add The Crying Game’s Jaye Davidson to the proceedings as an absurdly camp evil extraterrestrial Sun God surrounded by half-undressed hunky male guards that look like they wandered in from a Derek Jarman tribute and you may begin to get some sense of the enormous scale of this deliriously enjoyable folly.

The plot might have been snatched from today’s headlines. Of the Fortean Times anyway. Spader is a shambling Egyptologist whose ability to speed read hieroglyphs has led him to the entirely credible theory that the Pyramids were not built by the Egyptians but were in fact ancient spaceships left behind by aliens and still capable of transporting people to a far galaxy. The US government understandably takes this completely seriously and decides on the obvious course of action: to dispatch Kurt and a crack troupe of marines to nuke the distant planet and close the stargate forever. Now how’s that for foreign policy? Stargate starts out as if Oliver Stone had made a conspiracy thriller out of Chariots of the Gods but before it can get too bogged down in social comment, James Spader is handing out candy bars and being hailed as God by an alien population who have never experienced confectionery before (or, for that matter, dental bills), the alien slaves revolt against their transsexual leader and the film turns into Spader Of Arabia In Space. You will believe a pyramid can fly.

With amazing special effects, a bombastic score, delirious performances and an abundance of nubile slave girls and muscular bodybuilders, this is a film with everything, except maybe a script. Stargate’s oddly infectious insanity even comes with a message from its sponsor: before embarking on intergalactic travel make sure you have a plentiful supply of 5th Avenue candy bars.