THE BEACH

Directed by Danny Boyle. Starring Leonardo diCaprio, Virginie Ledoyen, Robert Carlyle, Tilda Swinton, Guillerme Canet

ADAPTED FROM Alex Garland's phenomenally successful novel of the same name, The Beach is by some distance Danny Boyle and company's most ambitious and expensive project yet, and the presence of Leo diCaprio in the central role will certainly boost its box-office prospects no end.

Shot on location in Thailand, it is one of the most visually splendrous films we will see all year, with the unspoilt natural beauty of its surroundings thrown into irresistible focus by Darius Khondji's spectacularly sumptuous cinematography - but otherwise, The Beach is a frustratingly uneven affair. That's not to say it's bad - just too superficial and unfocused to do justice to its evidently huge ambition.

The plot sets back-packing American travelseeker Richard (di Caprio) off on a mission to locate a mysterious island paradise, whose existence has been revealed to him in a bizarre meeting with babbling Scots lunatic Daffy Duck (Carlyle) - who promptly tops himself, but not before leaving a map which points Richard in the right direction. He sets out for Thailand, hooks up with a curiously boring French couple (Canet and Ledoyen), and locates the fabled beach in next to no time. The island looks stunningly gorgeous and is home to a self-contained community of pleasure-seekers who guard their secret zealously, so there's no danger of unwelcome tourists arriving to spoil the fun.

Exactly how much fun life on the island really is, however, is very much a matter for the viewer's discretion. The central assumption seems to be that there's no purer form of pleasure than loafing around idly on a desert island all day and all night : thus, the film's first hour depicts a bronzed, shirtless diCaprio swimming blissfully in the clear blue lagoon, falling in love with Ledoyen under the starry night sky, merrily making music with the rest of the commune etc. etc. etc. All no doubt thrilling if you like that sort of thing, but boring as fuck for those not of an escapist or hippyish disposition.

More annoyingly, the beach's inhabitants - while no doubt perceiving themselves as blessed and beautiful people - strike me as little more than a weirdo community of unforgivably hippyish dropouts, a perception confirmed when one of them whips out a fucking guitar and starts singing Bob Marley's 'Redemption Song'.

The most obnoxiously precious of the lot is the gang's spiritual leader Sal (Swinton) whose every utterance had me gnashing my teeth in extreme irritation. It's hard to put one's finger on exactly what makes her so monumentally annoying, but we could start by mentioning her voice, the look on her face, her arrogant conversational manner . . . I could go on all fucking night, but I wouldn't want to deplete my venom stocks for the next decade.

Call me twisted, but the film becomes considerably more interesting as soon as things start to go wrong. Out of nowhere, a vicious bloodthirsty shark eats one of the gang alive and leaves another one practically for dead. Paragons of idealism that they are, the gang decide not to bother bringing their severely injured friend to hospital, because it would give away the island's whereabouts. Whether by accident or design, John Hodge's script appears to be making an extremely pertinent point about the fallibility of human nature, and promptly sets about the mutinous descent into hell with some considerable relish. Recalling Martin Sheen's journey upriver in Apocalypse Now, diCaprio commendably begins to lose the plot over the course of the movie's second half, as mutiny begins to infest this garden of Eden, with violence aplenty to enliven the closing stages.

To be honest, diCaprio hits a career high, essaying an increasingly convincing picture of a drug-crazed lunatic, and generally doing everything possible to distance himself from his Titanic shenanigans. Unfortunately, he doesn't exactly get a great deal of backup from the rest of the cast: pouting French babe Ledoyen looks very acceptable but displays all the personality of a cardboard box, Swinton has you reaching for the nearest blunt instrument, and Canet practically sinks without trace. The scenery's nice, all the same.

Stranger than paradise, then, but you wouldn't want to live there. Approach with caution.

RATING: HHH