I watch the stupidest things when I’m hungover.

Order of the Phoenix is satisfyingly bombastic and hugely visually inventive, but bewilderingly short on meaingful narrative. It gallops from setpiece to admittedly impressive setpiece with no clear sense of where it’s ultimately going. The major plotline, such as it is, is consistently interrupted by incidental interludes, robbing the film of its sense of urgency. Come the movie’s climax, nothing significant seems to have changed or been achieved. A peril, no doubt, inherent in being the fifth chapter of seven, but I fear that the writer and director are now so deep down the Potter rabbit-hole that they’ve lost sight of narrative fundamentals necessary for a more casual audience.

Not having read any bar the first book, I have no idea whether this scattiness accurately reflects the source novel, or if it’s a casualty of trying to whittle away enough of Rowling’s apparent bloat to leave a film with a sensible running time. In either case, it’s badly damaged by its origins. While as viscerally entertaining as any other fantastical blockbuster, and filled with many fine performances from a who’s who of British cinema, it’s a film peculiarly without purpose.

Also: Gary Oldman really is a terrific actor, even when mouthing the kind of mawkish schlock he’s given here.