Tom Hanks returns as Professor Robert Langdon—symbologist extraordinaire and the veritable James Bond of academia—in a brand-spanking new onscreen adventure. Inferno is based on Dan Brown’s novel of the same name and is directed by Ron Howard, who, you’ll remember, also helmed the two previous adaptations of the Langdon series—2006’s The Da Vinci Code and 2009’s Angels & Demons. And while neither of those films had really lived up to the hype generated by the best-selling books, this new instalment is very possibly the worst of the lot. Though certainly boasting that same mix of overwrought crime-thriller fiction and real-life art history and science, with a heavy dose of conspiracy theories thrown in for good measure, that has come to characterise Brown’s work, not to mention spawn a legion of imitators, and while suffering no shortage of acting talent, Inferno makes for a dull, dull ride. Yes, we’re still getting a whirlwind tour of various historical sites around Europe, there are the requisite clues tucked into famous works of art, and, of course, a pretty young scholarly thing serving as Langdon’s travel-buddy slash sounding-board for his Prolonged and Often Very Ill-Timed Lectures on Various Things, but the formula hasn’t aged well over the years, and the contrivances holding the narrative together are more obvious here than ever before.

Langdon has just woken up in a hospital bed in Florence, with a throbbing headache and very little recollection of where he’s been or what he’s done in the last few days. And then there are those mysterious hallucinations that roll over him in waves—nightmarish images of war and death and decay, streets run with blood and grotesque creatures. His doctor, Sienna Brooks (Felicity Jones), informs him that he had been shot in the head, and all this is a result of the impact. But there’s little time for any more explanation—a black-clad assassin is discovered prowling the hallways, looking to gun down Langdon for some reason, and it is only thanks to some quick thinking on the doctor’s part that he manages to escape.

While hiding out at Sienna’s apartment and trying to get his bearings, Langdon—presently suffering the kind of convenient filmy amnesia that allows him to still remember the most obscure historical details but forget the word for “coffee”—finds a strange object on his person, with a reference to a work by the poet Dante concealed within it, namely the titular Inferno and its description of the Circles of Hell. Some mental-digging and Googling later (our boy’s catching up), he figures out that this is all linked to a crazed scientist’s(Ben Foster) imminent scheme to cull half of humanity using a biological weapon. From there on, Langdon, with the help of sidekick Sierra, must do what he does best: piece together a complicated puzzle using what little clues are available, indulging in the occasional ramble about this painting or that statue, and ultimately foil the madman’s plans and save the world—all while being chased across Florence and Venice by a litany of adversaries, including, at one hilarious point, armed forces of the World Health Organization. I know, I’m just as shocked as you are.

Inferno brings together a promising cast—Jones, though initially functioning as a vehicle for exposition and therefore required to do little but ask the right questions and look prettily interested, is thankfully offered more complexity towards the end, and the actress pulls off the role with ease; there’s Irrfan Khan who does a great job playing a shadowy corporate character you can never truly put your finger on; and we also have the wonderful Sidse Knudsen as head of the WHO and an old flame of our hero, the latter an element added on to the film adaptation, no doubt to help Langdon seem more human. But, for me, Hanks has always been a hard-sell in the series, and this instalment is no different—now, before you aim those rocks at me, I’m not denying the man is a terrific, terrific actor, but there’s always been something off about his Langdon-stint, almost like he doesn’t believe in the character enough to really put himself into it the way he’s done with the hundreds of other roles he’s essayed so far.

Besides which, Robert Langdon has always been a bit of an annoying protagonist to begin with, bursting into know-it-all professor mode at the slightest provocation—a facet that is, however, less evident in the source material than in the films, much as is the case with various contrivances of plot that don’t stick out as much in the books as they do on screen either. This is surprising because Brown’s stories—although admittedly nowhere near examples of well-written quality prose—do seem tailor-made for film adaptation, with their breezy pace, elaborate treasure-hunt design and enough twists to keep you interested despite yourself.

What’s more, Howard also had all the advantage of being able to show locations and artworks that would have taken up pages and pages of descriptions in print. Given these perks, then, it’s a head-scratcher as to why he and his screenwriters David Koepp and Akiva Goldsman (who’ve alternately worked alone and in tandem across the three films) haven’t been able to offer better translations. Even the visuals are not up to snuff this time around: apart from some sight-seeing bits that look great, the film feels overstylised overall, particularly the initial half hour or so, when Langdon’s visions frequently appear, edited to such frenetic, trippy effect that it actually strains the eyes.

Indeed, the stakes might have been upped with each new instalment in the Robert Langdon film series—it’s certainly never been higher than in Inferno, where we’ve gone from mulling the activities of secret religious cults to a threat on a global scale—but the capacity to engage viewers has not risen in proportion. In fact, while The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons had the benefit of an intriguing riddle at their core, so that the history- and literature-inspired sleuthing, one clue pointing to the next, was at least satisfying to follow, Inferno is missing even that—it’s much more a generic thriller than its predecessors, and therefore even less memorable.