Otherwise known for his enthralling video documentaries exploring the lives of treasures like Billy Joel and George Michael, Director Marcus Nispel makes another remarkable film. This time for all the wrong reasons.

At a mere glance at clips from the new Conan you can expect the same blundering action slack of story exampled in such film as the 2009 remake of The Clash of the Titans (originally an epic stop-motion classic that should have gracefully been left in the history books). This is a film that will leave a wondering of how it’s possibly make an existing product worse (especially the original Conan) with the wonders of CGI and the general evolution of man’s creativity.

In the case of Conan, it was cheese on toast in the first place but remembered for an oiled-up Arnie blurting out familiar lines like ”Die!” or “Grab me a mop my neck has exploded”. Without the sex-crazed Austrian-muscle-blimp the film would probably have never been made. The remake certainly shouldn’t have been.

This is a film as tasteless as a vegan fudge cake and as irritating as the only way is Essex (a ITV show documenting the lives of a bunch of oranges grunting in an unknown language).

A good advertising campaign has put the barbarian (Nispel) on the map this year but my money says it will teeter on box office flop and have pop-artists everywhere contemplating what kind of atrocities they could have made with all those unsold DVD plastics. So what can we redeem from this film? Well, it does have that pelvis-faced guy from Hellboy in it…