The most interesting thing about Mike Newell’s Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time is the variety of audience members it managed to attract. I got to see this outside on a giant, canvas screen at a drive-in the other night (which, I have to admit, lessened the flick’s obnoxiousness some) surrounded by hundreds of people. Some seeing Shrek Forever After, others Sex and the City 2…and then there was Persia, at some points an epic summer blockbuster and others an over-stuffed contraption designed to draw in Pirates of the Caribbean fanboys and watchers of all things Disney. Rough marketing tactic.

Nonetheless Prince of Persia resulted in fun laughs from some, crude groans from others. It felt like something that was unsure whether or not to take itself seriously or to let its pants loose. The best thing to be said about it is its fan-deprecating look at a property you either love or loath; the worst is that it can’t help but remain small. Smaller than its weekend competitor, Sex and the City 2, not in terms of quality yet when it comes to establishing a clear target audience. Eight-year-olds could spot promotions in-between episodes of Hannah Montana while high school kids ran this through their brains before diving into Robin Hood. The solution is a bloated attempt at stylized location action that doesn’t beckon to be enjoyed with junk food, but for junk food to be physically thrown at it.

Persia, adapted from Jordan Mechner’s series of video games created in 1989 (though Sands of Time borrows from the 2004 PS2 version) follows Prince Dastan (Jake Gyllenhaal, whose shirtless scenes seem more forced upon crowds than those in Twilight Saga: New Moon), a young man born in the slums of Nasaf. As Dastan busies himself by working up the royal chain, word is received that a nearby city has been garnering weaponry for Persian foes. Dastan’s brother Tus (Richard Coyle) plans an upheaval of the city, where Dastan first meets Princess Tamina (Gemma Arterton, more robotic here than in April’s Clash of the Titans). After King Sharaman strangely dies Dastan is blamed, and escapes the kingdom with Tamina. Together they discover the reasoning behind Sharaman’s covered passing, while trying to stop ruler Nizam (Ben Kingsley, fantastic) from stumbling upon magical sand able to turn back time in order to turn himself into the new King. Persia doesn’t try to accomplish much, and for the most part it doesn’t, but as far as video game adaptations go Sands of Time is probably among the best.

Not saying much, though. Director Newell (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, which experience might have helped some of the tougher, out-of-body CG sequences) gets caught up in an even more forced quirky romance between Dastan and Tamina. The dialogue from screenwriters Boaz Yakin, Doug Miro, Carlo Bernard and Jordan Mechner (though he’s only credited for the story) saves the best lines for Gyllenhaal, which prevents his character from being completely unnecessary, though doesn’t quite make up for Dastin’s indulgent upbringing. “I grew up in the slums!” Yeah, okay, we get it already. Where Persia lacks incredibly is yet again justification, which is what a lot of these early summer tentpoles seem to be suffering with. Tamina’s sudden flee from her pampered home in Alamut is as adverse as Disney’s stereotyped casting, and Dastin grows an obsession and experiments constant trials with this “sand of time” even though Tamina warns him over and over again that it only screws everything up. As it did this movie.

I didn’t go into Prince of Persia hoping for brilliant story-telling, but I did expect a reasonable-enough narrative that was able to be backed up with decently dignified proof. With interactive play on a Playstation or an Xbox the user isn’t as exposed to the shear ridiculousness of the plot since they’re so involved in the game itself. On the screen is a different story, where the viewer has zero power as to what goes in and what comes out of this extremely forgettable wet dream of a movie. I was surprised that once this two-hour recital finally came to a stop that Sex and the City was still going on. I pray this wasn’t another half hour longer, like Ridley Scott’s bore-of-a-battle Robin Hood. Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time isn’t as cruel to its audience as Clash of the Titans was, nor as sprawled in weird camera angles and overwhelming music (Harry Gregson-Williams’s score is actually pretty good here) as Pirates of the Caribbean, which producer Jerry Bruckheimer also front-ran. This movie is just empty.

SKIP IT.