It opens - and for half an hour, runs - like an educational programme on the Old Testament, although not without humour. The movie finally begins to grow wings when the biblical cant gets dropped. In a scene of mixed success Martin Donovan (Jesus) decides to renege on kicking off the Apocalypse and the final quarter of an hour is a sort of humanist 'what's all the fuss about?' play-out, gilded with optimistic conjecture against a (retrospectively, miserably ironic) long shot of the WTC twin towers.<br /><br />Apart from Donovan's authority, the acting is split. There's the thespian melodrama of the rest of the cast: this, though formally contrived for biblical presentation, is appropriate for the modern, paranoid comedy that Hartley's aiming at. But I was also pleasantly surprised at the contribution of PJ Harvey (credited thus, and in danger of existing within the film solely as the pop star entity she is, not least in a set piece scene in a record store and a perilously patchy soundtrack to which contributes). She remained cool - a sort of disingenuous lack of focus - in the manner of many pop icons who have taken to film (I'm thinking the Jagger of Performance here) but nonetheless maintained a convincing integration with both cast and project.<br /><br />Ultimately affirmative, but this bittersweet essay is a bit too much like one and relies more on the perseverance than the imagination of its audience. 4/10