Directed by Daniel Alfredson Starring Michael Nyqvist, Noomi Rapace, Georgi Staykov, Annika Hallin, Per Oscarsson, Lena Endre 16 cert, gen release, 145 min

Ignore the hype – the last film in the Millenium trilogy is a total bore, writes DONALD CLARKE

SOMEHOW the notion has got about that the bulky three-part adaptation of Stieg Larsson's Millenniumtrilogy is smarter than the average thriller. Why, exactly? Because the actors talk in Swedish? Because the series pretends to have a feminist subtext? Because it has become exponentially more boring as it progresses?

There may be something in the last point. The third and final picture does have much the same effect on the unconverted viewer as would an evening spent before, say, an averagely static Mongolian folk drama. The downside is that, unlike My Camel Is Smaller Than Your Yurt, the film doesn't appear to be doing you any good. You might as well boast about sitting through eight hours of Midsomer Murders.

Niels Arden Oplev's The Girl With the Dragon Tattoowas, actually, reasonably easy to endure. Following Mikael Blomkvist, (Michael Nyqvist) an archetypically scruffy journalist, as – assisted by Lisbeth Salander (Noomi Rapace), a tattooed hacker – he attempted to unravel an ancient conspiracy, the film had a recognisable narrative arc and one or two passable action sequences (plus too much hypocritically dubious violence against women). Since then, however, the story has become increasingly mired in tedious telephonic exposition. One suspects that the script of Hornet's Nestcould function – if not exactly work – as the basis for a passably lucid radio play.

Listen. Following an unhappy encounter with her dad, a pervert and a maniac, Lisbeth is now recuperating in hospital. Mikael and his team from Millenniummagazine set out to disentangle the ever-widening conspiracy and, in the process, establish that Lisbeth, currently under arrest, is innocent of attempted murder. Annika, Mikael's sister, is appointed as the girl's lawyer and rapidly encounters evidence of the severe challenge she faces. Representatives of some sinister organisation break in and finish off Lisbeth's father (conveniently billeted in the adjoining ward) and then attempt to murder the heroine herself.

If the story were a little more engagingly told, the film’s terminal clumsiness might not seem so glaringly conspicuous. Despite the murmured seriousness of the acting, the trilogy abounds with silliness. This is a world in which wearing a leather jacket and smoking fags marks you out as dangerous. This is a universe where corrupt officials still quake at magazine exposés. Really?

After a modestly encouraging start, we've ended up with an unholy amalgam of Spooksand The Da Vinci Code. At least Dan Brown gave us the odd killer monk.