Monumentally bad. The Monuments Men.

 Listen very carefully, I shall say zis only once....

This is the second film I've seen this week that is basically little more than 'Allo! 'Allo! The Movie'.

Like, Grand Budapest Hotel it features a bunch of gently oddball characters racing around a cartoonish version of Europe in the hunt for stolen art. There are dodgy accents, national stereotypes, overcooked gags and a lack of drama as the ensemble cast bumble their way through one limp scene after another.

There's a school of thought in scriptwriting that says "arrive late, leave early". The Monuments Men is the party guest that turns up unnoticed, hangs around the edges of conversation, holds your gaze for a bit too long, says a few obvious jokes that fall flat, repeats an anecdote about how he tweeted George Clooney once and then goes on to tell you that art is really important because it defines our culture. You can't wait for him to leave, but he just won't take the hint. Every scene is like that; overstretched, a bit embarrassing, a bit lecturing, a bit patronising, apropos of nothing and neither funny or illuminating. 

You have to level the blame at Clooney who has directing, writing and production credits. It's his baby and you don't doubt his earnestness or intentions but it seems pitched at the retirement home nostalgia crowd. Everything feels a bit too cosy and safe. It's Sunday afternoon matinee material. There's nothing wrong with that as such, but this would have passed as average fare even in the 50s/60s golden age of WWII movies.  Post 'Saving Private Ryan', post 'Band of Brothers', post 'Inglorious Basterds' this is just unforgiveable and lazy.

At the very least it should give me characters I should care about. Filling the screen with Bill Murray's face, or Matt Damon's face or John Goodman's face as they deadpan some wry line is no substitute and wastes the talents of all involved.

Every scene is underscored with distant bugle music, or a slow military beat, or soaring strings. Even so, nothing can prepare you for the moment at the halfway point that features the water from a shower mixing with the tears running down Bill Murray's sad clown face as he hears his granddaughter's voice singing "Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas" over the field hospital camp P.A. This is intercut with footage of injured and dying soldiers and it is the very definition of laying it on with a trowel. Not even Spielberg at his most sentimental would attempt anything as cringe-worthy as this. It lacks any pathos, tests your patience and makes you despise Clooney for attempting to create an instant Christmas classic through such obvious means.

If you're expecting the monuments men to be a heist team in reverse you'll be disappointed. These aren't specialists displaying a mix of detective skills, insider knowledge, courage and linguistic know-how. This bunch track down their pirated treasure by overhearing conversations, by an SS officer surrendering a map and by being given a ledger book. Still, at least they manage to beat the Russians to the prize. That's very important.  Never mind that the Tzar's amber room was one of the greatest treasures to have been looted during the war and one of the saddest losses of cultural history.

Of course nobody points out that the majority of great art works survived because the Nazis removed them, stored them properly and only adopted a destruction policy towards degenerate art. There was too much money and cultural capital to be made out of the rest. Even now, most of the Polish and Jewish art looted is tied up in bureaucracy,  Swiss accounts or private collections. I know I'm being flippant and overly sensitive for effect but there's no balancing scenes of the monuments men trying to stop the blanket bombing of Dresden. Such black and white tub-thumping is tiresome in a contemporary film made by intelligent people. A little bit of shading wouldn't have hurt.

It's one of the worst war films I've ever seen; a cloying message movie that misfires on every level.

Stick with René and his search for the missing Fallen Madonna with the big boobies.