‘Prince of Persia’

I want my "Mummy."

Better yet, I want my Indy. (Alias Indiana Jones, for those who prefer to be on a more formal basis with "Raiders of the Lost Ark's" resident rogue archaeologist.)

In short, I want the other, better movies "Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time" recalls.

Uber-producer Jerry Bruckheimer's designated summer blockbuster, "Prince of Persia" shares several attributes with his 2003 Disney breakthrough, "Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl."

Lots of swords and sword fights, for one thing.

Unlikely source material, for another -- a theme-park ride for "Pirates," a video game series for "Prince of Persia."

In addition, both movies boast a rascally protagonist who refuses to behave himself, leading to trouble for him -- and, presumably, fun for us.

In "Pirates," that character is none other than Capt. Jack Sparrow, embodied by Johnny Depp at his most gleefully delirious.

In "Prince of Persia," our resident rascal is Dastan, played by Jake Gyllenhaal, for whom the adjectives "gleeful" and "delirious" seldom apply. ("Earnest" and "solemn" are more like it.)

Where "Pirates" (at least the original installment) rollicks, with an irresistible sense of humor to spice up its frequently preposterous tale, "Prince of Persia" lumbers along, preferring to beat its audience into submission through heaping helpings of computer-generated effects and extended action sequences.

In "Pirates," you revel in, and remember, the characters. In "Prince of Persia," however, you remember where you've seen the characters, and their connect-the-dots conflicts, before.

At least it's not an altogether unpleasant experience.

"Prince of Persia" looks ravishing, thanks to fanciful production design (by Wolf Kroeger) and elaborate costumes (by Penny Rose). And the clipped accents of its mostly British cast members make even the most inane dialogue sound just the teensiest bit more dignified, if not any less ridiculous.

"Prince of Persia" takes us to ancient Arabian-nights territory, where benevolent King Sharaman (Ronald Pickup) rules a vast empire.

And just how benevolent is King Sharaman? Benevolent enough to adopt a plucky street urchin who defies royal authority to protect a friend -- and raise that urchin as his own son.

Naturally, that urchin grows up to be the dashing Dastan, whose rebellious streak -- and acrobatic flair for somersaulting, running up the side of walls and otherwise defying gravity -- set him apart from his princely brothers, one benign (Richard Coyle), the other more combative (Toby Kebbell).

Speaking of brothers, the king's got one, too: Nizam (Ben Kingsley, mentally twirling his moustache), who's had his sibling's back since they were kids. If Nizam's ever had any regrets, he's kept them to himself. So far.

Besides, the Persian princes have more important matters at hand: a military action against the holy city of Alamut, which is believed to have mass quantities of destructive weapons (if not weapons of mass destruction) hidden somewhere.

But there's only one weapon that really counts: a mystical dagger with a crystal hilt that, when filled with the titular sands, can turn back time for a minute. And, in the process, change the course of history -- to say nothing of the possessor's destiny.

It's not the Ark of the Covenant everybody keeps chasing in "Raiders." But it's enough to prompt all manner of skullduggery, which puts Dastan on the run for his life -- accompanied by the dagger's guardian, Princess Tamina of Alamut ("Quantum of Solace's" ornamental Gemma Arterton), who's not at all happy schlepping through the desert with a rapscallion like Dastan.

Along the way, bickering all the way, our semidynamic duo encounters an inevitably colorful array of characters, from an expert knife-thrower (Steve Toussaint) to an icy-eyed assassin (Gisli Orn Gardarsson ) who sends snakes to do his killing. (Snakes -- why does it always have to be snakes?) Best of all, there's Sheik Amar (hearty, hammy Alfred Molina), a glad-handing scoundrel who stages ostrich races and rails against crippling Persian tax policies. (In another life, he'd be a Vegas casino owner.)

Just don't get too attached to any of them. "Prince of Persia" never does.

Lest we forget, this is a movie inspired by a bunch of video games. And "Prince of Persia" creator Jordan Mechner's screen story -- transformed into a screenplay by Boaz Yakin, Doug Miro and Carlo Bernard -- pays much more attention to the games than the people playing them.

Which doesn't exactly play to director Mike Newell's strengths.

He's a versatile sort, having directed everything from "Four Weddings and a Funeral" to "Donnie Brasco" to "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire."

But Newell's more at home with acting than action -- and the latter dominates "Prince of Persia."

As a result, Newell overcompensates, keying everything to the movie's big effects and action sequences. But his slice-and-dice visual style -- accompanied by matching hyperkinetic editing -- undercut the exhilarating sight of the title character's parkour-style acrobatics. They might even be exhilarating -- if only we could watch Dastan's uninterrupted moves instead of bits and pieces of them, chopped up and reassembled as if they were so much cinematic stir-fry.

Gyllenhaal, pumped up and flexing his muscles accordingly, gives it the old princely try. Not surprisingly, however, he's much more credible, and much more compelling, under more human-scale conditions, as those who recall "Brothers" (or "Brokeback Mountain") will attest.

Then again, audiences who sign on for "Prince of Persia" aren't looking for complexity -- or credibility.

They're looking for fun. And while there's some to be had watching "Prince of Persia," most of it feels as dusty as the movie's sands-of-time setting.

Contact movie critic Carol Cling at ccling@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0272.