Within a mere matter of minutes into D.J. Caruso’s xXx: Return of Xander Cage, the third entry into the franchise – arriving 12 years after the preceding endeavour – you can tell the filmmaker is not playing by the rules. A haphazard, downright absurd opening act, with title cards introducing the characters, explaining what their karaoke song of choice is, to witnessing Brazilian footballer Neymar sitting down with Samuel L. Jackson to tuck into some oriental cuisine. It becomes clear this is not your typical action thriller, and from thereon things just weirder. And weird, in this instance, is not necessarily a good thing.

Xander Cage (Vin Diesel) has been in hiding for well over a decade, in exile, staying well clear of the xXx programme initiated by Augustus Gibbons (Jackson) – and yet the man who doesn’t wish to be found, is detected by the unwavering Jane Marke (Toni Collette), who will stop at nothing to secure an immensely dangerous weapon known as ‘Pandora’s Box’, which can control satellites. Reluctantly agreeing to lend a hand, Cage does it under one condition – he assembles his own team, calling in the assistance of a few old friends. Though the deeper they get into this murky set of affairs, the challenge in knowing who you can and can’t trust becomes something of an impossibility.

xXx: Return of Xander CageThe incessant implementation of contrived, supposedly witty one-liners is emblematic of a film that feels at times like it’s a parody of the genre it belongs to. Sacha Baron Cohen once made a spoof short movie entitled Spyz, as the character of Ali G – and this production feels shamefully similar. It feels like we’ve unwittingly stepped in to one of Vin Diesel’s wet dreams, as while Xander Cage is just a great big cheesebag, everyone thinks he’s really cool. Men wanna be him, and woman wanna sleep with him, as he just casually wanders around in an absurd fur coat, beating the crap out of highly trained soldiers, and not to mention the orgies – which he calls “undercover work”, with a massive grin smacked across his face that is comparable only to the one you wear when telling all your friends you’ve lost your virginity.

That being said, the set-pieces are enjoyable, particularly when involving Donnie Yen, who injects some class into proceedings with well-choreographed martial arts sequences that are exhilarating to indulge in at times. These entertaining moments, where explosions and car crashes make up the back-drop, do exist, but they are tied together by a thinly veiled thing you would imagine the filmmaker would probably describe as a plot.

But just how much slack you decide to cut this film is dependant on how self-aware the production is. It’s so inane, so absurd and completely and utterly irreverent. But does it know that? If the answer is yes, and the over-elaborate tone is purposefully adhering to such a notion, then you can let it off the hook somewhat. But if it’s vying to take itself seriously, and honestly believes it’s as cool as the eponymous protagonist is supposed to be, then it makes for a tragic cinematic experience. Alas, this film lies somewhere between the two; knowing it’s a bit crap (good), and yet doing nothing about it (not so good).