'Treasure' hunt lacking payoff

If there's one guy who don't do irony, it's Jerry Bruckheimer.

"Pirates of the Carribean" was about plunderers and "Bad Boys" was about a plurality of male nogoodnicks. Monarchy was the modus operandi in "King Arthur."

Predictably in line, then, is his latest, "National Treasure," which isn't about democracy or our children or even Maya Angelou.

It's about massive, massive amounts of riches. Yep, with producer-cum-plutocrat Bruckheimer, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

So, if it's just about good ol' treasure, where's the meat? The terror? What about this two-hour blow-up appeals to your average, god-fearing, theater-going denizen?

Now there's a neverending hunt.

The stage is set as salvager con-conscience Benjamin Franklin Gates (Nicolas "Captain Corelli" Cage) receives a charge to protect a treasure that's been under his bloodline's guard for nigh-on 200 years.

Of course, there's a bunch of Masonic stuff, too - codes, maps, keys, cryptographs et al., but that's really just in there for the Dan Brown contingent. In the days of "The Da Vinci" code, there's not a picture you can't scan or an opera you can't permutate.

Cage mails in his performance, handling the role of hero with less gravitas than he leant "Con Air," throwing twitchy glances and hesitant affirmations in at every free moment.

As his complements, the roles of Newcomer Eyecandy and Technogeek Sidekick are filled adequately, but unmemorably.

Diane Kruger, reduced to a one-dimensional source of morality and cleavage, oddly inhabits her role as romantic interest Abigail Chase, whereas Justin Bartha aptly plays second banana, intermittently ceasing his squirrely banter to vocalize a rational thought or two on the absurdity of The B.F.G.'s quest.

See, it's that kind of characterization that's killing America.

Ultimately, the film is packed with cliffhangers and sensational content, but ultimately bereft of heart. Like the coldest "C.S.I." overintellectual one-liner, "Treasure" presents an enticing package that's hollow at the core.

Sean Bean reprises his stock, vaguely Anglican villain act from "GoldenEye" and "Lord of the Rings," accompanied by a crew of black-clad, distinctively non-Aryan American cronies.

The veteran ensemble is hindered on the back end by an abundance of delightfully ham-fisted writing. In the first half, powered by this and a handful of trapdoor solutions and inconclusive montages that pop up to miraculously bail the often-confused heroes, the film delivers but doesn't hook.

Exposition isn't a priority, here. It's all about the glittering jewels, concussive shockwaves and dry-cool quips.

But, wait, action faithful - when it comes time for the climax, there's no treasure.

Yes, in the end, they find nothing but an empty room and this lesson: It takes determination and self-will to see any project through to the end, but increased character and personal growth are the ultimate gain.

Nah, I'm just razzin' you. There's still miles of treasure.

And so, like with the carpet of subterranean CG gold, you're left looking at a bloated payoff that's discomfortingly fake.

Hey, self-knowledge ultimately be-eth overrated in the face of sexy cinematography and golden snatchables. Yeah, I think one of the founding fathers said that.

Contact the A&E Editor at artsdesk@unc.edu.