"Jumper" is the codeword assigned by Italian fashion police to the shadowy nemesis who strikes terror into the haute couture palaces of the world's capital cities.

A vicious fiend cursed with a tidiness disorder, Jumper AKA David Rice (Christensen) shocks the buttoned-up empires of Prada, Gucci and Chanel with his audacious smash'n'grab raids into branches of Benetton.

Callously despatching carefully constructed towers of knitwear, he makes off with a haul of hot cashmere sweaters while neatly evading the attentions of the custodians of the cardigan. Until now. It appears his closely-guarded secret could unravel like an old Argyle pully.

No, of course it doesn't. Yet this dim-witted premise makes about as much sense as the concept for Doug Liman's sci-fi thriller - a conceit so difficult to grasp it's like hugging a double-decker bus.

Christensen is indeed a "jumper" and this slice of woolly-headed thinking means he can teleport himself to any corner of the globe just be concentrating hard on where he wants to go. Yes, he's a carrier of that old chestnut "the genetic anomaly".

So we first meet this turbo-charged Thomas Cook-on-crack atop a Sphinx in the Egyptian desert having breakfast and then it's on to Hawaii, Paris, Japan, Whitley Bay (maybe not) and back to his New York apartment in time for tea.

Rice only slows down when he's obliged to take a mundane flight to Rome with his childhood sweetheart Millie (the irritatingly tic-laden Bilson) and does not want to give away the fact he can clock up the air miles in the blink of an eye.

However, the eternal city shows him that he isn't when he has a run-in with a couple of "Paladins", evil swine whose vengeful vocation is to wipe out David and his ilk with an armoury including wire, pegs and a 1,000v cattle prod. Phew.

They're led by Samuel L "another day, another dollar" Jackson, who should have a contract out on his makeup artist after being obliged to don a snowy wig which makes him look like he's just emerged from a dust-up in a flour mill.

He plays Roland (a villain called Roland?), whose Paladin force have been with us for thousand of years, knocking around with The Spanish Inquisition, the Nazis, The Rotary Club, Citizens Advice Bureau? I dunno.

With the Paladins on his tail, David is forced to hook up with veteran jumper Griffin (Bell in a performance that bestows more than its fair share of gravitas on a naff role) and the two of them plot revenge on their persecutors.

The idea underpinning this slight sci-fi outing is so preposterous there's not even any comedy mileage to be had in a "so good it's bad" kinduva way.

Conversely, the jumpers' transglobal abilities are so awe inspiring - Europe becomes little more than a theme park - that there is no threat of peril as they are simply beyond it.

Christensen again demonstrates how his mere presence made the latter Star Wars outings such deathly experiences while the rest of the cast don't fare much better.

It could be argued that it's just fun stuff...but to some people so is bingo or badger-baiting.

The plus point is the imaginative use of CGI, particulary during rush hour in Tokyo although this rapidly fades as there's no plot to speak of in which to house it.

Jumper is threadbare stuff.

Tim Evans