The Love Punch is a kind of grey-pound comedy, which is a little insulting for stars Pierce Brosnan and Emma Thompson, neither of whom are old enough to sign up for a TV funeral payment scam and free Parker pen.
If only we could say the same about the prehistoric one-liners (“You don’t fancy rubbing some Deep Heat into my coccyx, do you?”) and set-pieces, most of which derive from placing these stars in incongruously youthful situations. Like wind-surfing. Or rock-climbing. Look! Those people in their 50s are doing things! How hilarious.
We won't bother you with too many of the ludicrous plot details. Suffice it to say, Brosnan and his ex-wife Thompson are well-appointed surburbanites who are forced to holiday in France together when some dastardly foreigner – watch out, he's French! – swindles them out of all their savings.
In retaliation, they attempt to steal a £10 million diamond necklace with an elaborate scheme that requires fake moustaches and hiding under beds. Neighbours Timothy Spall and Celia Imrie come along for the ride. Cue Reservoir Dogs slow-motion shots of the unlikely criminal quartet. Cue weary sighs from viewer.
This is a broad, old school comedy: imagine Mrs Brown's Boys without the swearing. Or Brendan O'Carroll. Or the jokes. Silly doesn't have to be stupid. But too often The Love Punch can't tell the difference.
Despite the weak material – and an entire sequence that looks suspiciously like a Citroen commercial – an infectious jouissance hangs around the cast. Brosnan and Thompson muster a decent screwball rhythm and seem to be having a whale of a time in the sunny South of France. Good for them. Glad someone is.
