The spirited and hugely successful Mummy franchise has always worn its "Indiana Jones knock-off" badge with pride - and this third instalment is the most shameless yet.

From characterisation (father/son dynamic, double-crossing acquaintances, fascistic villains) to set-pieces (booby-trapped crypt, hero dragged beneath a truck, high jinks in Shanghai), The Mummy 3 steals from Spielberg ark, whip and fedora.

The prologue takes us to ancient China where Jet Li’s Emperor Han is all set to conquer the world before unwisely betraying enigmatic sorceress Zi Yuan (Michelle Yeoh). Aggrieved, she turns Han and his army into a 10,000-piece dinner set.

Two thousand years later, Han’s tomb is discovered by archaeologist Alex O’Connell (Ford) just as his mummy-battling parents Rick (Fraser) and Evelyn (Bello) arrive to return a mysterious trinket to the Chinese people.

Naturally, said treasure is the key to Zi Yuan’s curse and immediately falls into the hands of Han’s followers.

Sprung from his enforced hibernation with the power to control the elements and transform himself into demonic beasties, Han resumes his quest for immortality and world domination.

But with the O’Connells in pursuit – with some welcome assistance from a trio of abominable snowmen - the earthenware emperor’s plans inevitably go to pot.

In terms of originality, this Mummy is dead on its feet. And no matter what their nationality, everyone struggles with the generally awful dialogue.

Replacing Rachel Weisz as Evelyn, Bello gives a truly wretched performance, stuffing her English accent with so much plum she virtually chokes (“Oy noy, his paaahs have been fully re-stawed!”).

John Hannah bumbles gamely (again) as Evie’s brother Jonathan, but Li’s role is 95% CG and Yeoh is given little to do. Meanwhile, the decision to split the heroic focus between Fraser and the ironically named Ford merely draws attention to the latter’s remarkable blandness.

But despite a few noticeable cuts in the effects budget (the yetis’ mooted reappearance never happens), it’s handsomely mounted and director Rob Cohen keeps up the fireworks from Shanghai to Shangri-La – even if the climactic battle between two undead armies is all rather silly.

Indy’s still the daddy but this is passable nonsense for slow nights and rainy afternoons.

Elliott Noble