There seems to be an on-going trend of directors who made a name for themselves in the eighties not producing great films in the present. A case in point would be Oliver Stone. The last ten years or so saw him direct Salvador, Platoon, Wall Street and Born on the Fourth of July. This decade’s efforts (Alexander, World Trade Center, W. and Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps have been far less impressive.

Anyone hoping for a change in that trend with his latest, will be gravely disappointed.

Although they have very different personalities, Chon (Taylor Kitsch) and Ben (Aaron Johnson) have been friends for quite some time. They get on so well they even work together as marijuana growers in Laguna Beach, California.

They also both share a friend in the shape of O (Blake Lively); and the use of the word 'share' should be understand in the biblical sense. But as a ménage-à-trois goes, this is a very loving one.

Life is good. Until, that is, a Mexican drug cartel, run by Elena (Salma Hayek), decide they want in to their lucrative business. The trio are advised by Dennis (John Travolta), their corrupt DEA agent, to go for the deal, informing them that they don't really have a choice any way.

Deciding life's too short to get into bed with a violent cartel (as if there would be room anyway with the three of them), they choose to decline their offer. They decide instead that they've got just enough time to pack up their things and head off to the safer climes of Indonesia. Unfortunately for them, the cartel have other ideas.

So John, what happens when someone rubs you up the wrong way?!

You can see the appeal this story must have had for Stone; despite its sunny locale, it's set in a dangerous world, full of edgy characters – on paper at least. Hayek, Travolta, and in particular Benicio Del Toro who plays the main cartel muscle Lado, all manage to give larger than life performances, which is understandable given their experience. Sadly the loved-up trio really let the side down.

Not only is there something overwhelmingly wet about the three young characters, the performances offered by Kitsch, Lively and Johnson are equally damp. The trio are oh-so wishy washy in every way. They're not helped by having the blandest characters to work with, but at the same time, they don't do anything within their powers to improve the situation.

The story doesn't help matters either; it hobbles along at a plodding pace, like a disabled piñata – or a wonky donkey if you prefer. It fails to surprise or entertain.

Stone shows no evidence of his (past) ability to bring thought-provoking material to life cinematically. It's as if he's woken up with no other memory than his own name. It's disappointing to see someone of his talent resorting to such bland and pointless projects. Perhaps he's just getting old. And tired. That said, Hitchcock directed the classicsPsycho and The Birds towards the end of his career, when he was in his sixties, so age really shouldn't be an excuse.

Perhaps then it's appetite – or lack of one. His hunger for producing edgy material has clearly gone and what's left is, well, middle of the road material like this.

At best The Savages is an average film, but is made all the more disappointing by being directed by someone as talented as Stone.