It’s not great. It’s not terrible. It is bland manufactured entertainment product. It’s fine. Hollywood is not creatively bankrupt. Everything is fine.
The best thing about this pile-on of pulpy historical pseudo revisionism: it works. Timur Bekmambetov treats it sincerely, but cheerfully so: the film isn’t without a subversively gentle sense of humor, yet it’s never so earnest that it stumbles over into cheese.