REVIEW - THE WORLD'S END

I find it very difficult to dislike Nick Frost. I find it very difficult to like Simon Pegg. Maybe that's just a part of my psyche - I never like the lead singer in the band, I like the bassist. I never want the champions to win, I want the underdogs to. But, were the roles reversed, I would still like Nick Frost as a leading man, and still dislike Simon Pegg as his sidekick. As Pegg and Edgar Wright come shuffling back to Britain after neither made quite the splash they had hoped to in the States, they return to making the kind of slightly satirical comedy action film with which they made their name. This is a nerd's world, which is to say that it's not for me. Just another part of my psyche - try as I do to overcome my prejudices, I simply don't get along with nerd culture. The World's End aims to lambast cinematic nerd stereotypes, but also to employ them with such proliferation that they simultaneously venerate them publicly. We're encouraged to laugh with the geeks, because we're all in on the joke. And there's not a lot wrong with the jokes, objectively. But I am not objective because I am an individual human being with my own tastes, my own preferences and my own prejudices. And I found the jokes, mostly, aggravating. As well-timed as they are, I saw many of them coming. I suppose that's a part of the appeal, the anticipation before the payoff, but only if you're tuned in to the right frequency. And there's no part of my psyche that is, alas. Wright's frenetic style of direction remains as brisk but uninventive as ever, there are some requisite moments of purported pathos (which you'll also see coming), handled in a manner both workmanlike and hysterical, and the finale rivals The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King for sheer endlessness. As with most comedies, there's enough good humour here to make me laugh on select occasions, but no more, unfortunately. The hit rate is severely diminished by entrusting Simon Pegg with the bulk of the humour.