"Harry Potter can kiss my ass," exclaims a supernaturally-gifted college brat before gliding off a storm-lashed precipice to a beach party hundreds of feet below.

It's a bit of a cheeky observation coming from a weedy warlock whose powers don't seem to extend much further than hopping off a hill, lifting up a car or making his pupils go all black.

He's part of a four-strong gang of college kids - the Sons of Ipswich (as opposed to the Cousins of Cleethorpes, I suppose) - who have been bequeathed magical powers dating back generations to the 17th century.

Theirs is a closely guarded secret - protected by a covenant - but it appears a mysterious other is prowling the corridors of their posh school, keen for a slice of the supernatural action.

Renny Harlin has directed some first-class action thrillers including Die Harder and Deep Blue Sea...but here the playful touch that made such movies so appealing appears to have deserted him.

This comes across as an eye candy outing for pre-pubescent girls - the lads seem in perpetual state of undress, parading around in Speedos - while the 12 certificate appears to have reduced the teen action to a sort of slightly scary Bugsy Malone.

In fact, the most frightening thing here is a bizarre local bar which doesn't appear to serve beer but the preening teens can casually order fries which sucking coke through a straw in a "hard" manner.

Utterly formulaic and lacking any sort of charismatic acting from the FHM-style leads, you only feel a sense of dread when the ending leaves the door open for a sequel.

Tim Evans