Main cast: Jackie Chan (Jimmy Tong), Jennifer Love Hewitt (Del Blaine), Jason Isaacs (Clark Devlin), Debi Mazar (Steena), Ritchie Coster (Diedrich Banning), and Peter Stormare (Dr Simms)
Director: Kevin Donovan

Welcome to the annual Let’s Shove a Burning Crowbar Up Jackie Chan’s Rectum fiesta.Jackie Chan and Jennifer Love Hewitt in a movie together? It’s surely the sign of the apocalypse.

The Tuxedo is surely the result of a round-robin session at the local watering hole filled with drunk, bleary-eyed frat boys. It has no logic – unsurprisingly, this is a Jackie Chan movie after all – but it also has not many action scenes. What it is is long, tedious exposition and the unseeming idol worship of an ugly womanizing troll speaking English in an atrocious accent.

He plays Jimmy, a chauffeur who gets to wear a tuxedo that enhances his pugilistic skills. Boobwit is a secret agent who becomes Mr Chan’s girly, because in his movies, every girl falls for him even if he looks like the fourth missing member of the Ghoulies that live inside the toilet bowl. Together they foil a megalomaniac’s plan to poison the world’s water supply.

By downplaying what makes him even remotely useful – his pugilistic skills – this movie becomes nothing more than a tedious overlong show featuring a whiny actress and a wrinkled monkey-faced troll who speaks atrocious English. In his Hong Kong movies, Jackie Chan speaks confidently, flies hard, and has the world at his feet. In this, his American movie, he is rendered into a muted, lost, and tiny troll-faced pork boy. In Hong Kong, his word is absolute. In Hollywood, he has to take orders from an ex-beer commercial director.

This uncharitable thought keeps me sane and has me sneering throughout this vile waste of time.