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There are some films which one enters with such low expectations that, by the grace of Providence, the movie manages to just barely surpass them. Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance is one such case. Like a resuscitated drowning victim, the few elements of the film that worked coughed and sputtered along, allowing the enterprise to gasp desperately for air until the guillotine sweep of the credits could end its misery. These few elements were more or less actor Idris Elba and the landscape of Eastern Europe. Everything and everyone else was dead weight.

 Don’t worry if you managed to duck the first movie; the origin story of Ghost Rider is summarized here in a scant 60 seconds: motorcycle stunt driver Johnny Blaze (Nicolas Cage) makes a deal with the Devil and becomes possessed by a titular demon. Now years later, Blaze is hiding away from the light of day in the industrial ruins of Eastern Europe until contacted by gun-toting priest Moreau (Idris Elba), who asks him to rescue—what else?—a demonic child.

 And so Blaze rides along, through sets that combine the barren beauty of the land with an industrial/medieval grunge aesthetic, lovely locales that are unfortunately considerably dimmed due to the 3D glasses. In this way, the release of this film in 3D was a clear case of shooting oneself in the foot.

 Blaze turns into Ghost Rider when “evil is near,” but is exceedingly disappointing. Besides invulnerability, one of the two principal superpowers of Ghost Rider is sending out chains that burn its targets to ash upon contact. Cool in theory, but in practice, there is little pleasure to be derived from watching CGI-Cage stand in one place, playing a brief game of demonic S&M with the bad guys laid out in a semi-circle before him. Fortunately, Ghost Rider’s other power—to appropriate and possess machinery—was put to better use; the scene in which a gigantic flaming gear roars up then crashes down upon its victims was likely the most enjoyable “action” moment of the film.

 The somewhat lack of imagination with which superpowers are treated here reflect the deeper, fundamental problem of the script. Generally, those which are collaborations of three (or more, dear God) writers are weak, and two of the three who produced this screenplay have only mainly worked in television. It should perhaps surprise no one, then, that their product is rife with unabashedly cheesy dialogue, moral discussions of the kindergarten variety, incoherent character relationships, and not one but two deus ex machina.

 Yet the biggest problem of the film may be the star himself, Nicolas Cage. Unlike Idris Elba—who jovially makes the best out of a bad script situation, including tackling some stereotypes that randomly appear in the final act—Cage seems to revel in the awfulness. His performance cannot be termed “colourful,” since the awkward mid-sentence pauses and the high-pitched kookaburra laughter have become such a Nic Cage staple by now that it is merely different shades of the same-old grey. More applicable adjectives include “tired,” “schizophrenic,” and “sad.”

 As a result, those same adjectives apply more or less to the piece as a whole. A film is truly in dire straits when the rock formations in the background are more interesting than the story acted out in the fore. The unfortunate individuals who find themselves watching Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance would be wise to not expect more than a mediocre product.