DeNiro hits autopilot

The eponymous city is Long Beach, Long Island; the generic sea gains a specific identity by having a "floater" in it: a crack dealer, very dead indeed. And Robert De Niro is the world-weary cop Vincent LaMarca, a man whose name and beaten looks fit an Identikit composite of all New York cops too long on the beat.

Assigned to the case, he finds his junkie son (James Franco) is the prime suspect. Family history repeats itself: Vincent's dad was executed for murder. Is there a "killer gene" here, as the tabloids are quick to posit?

There's certainly the same DNA between Michael Caton-Jones's cop flick and a hundred other police procedurals, though what momentarily lifts it out of the routine is the confession that Vincent has to make to his sleeping partner (Frances McDormand): first his dad was a murderer, now his son is a

murder suspect. One seems a misfortune; the other, to paraphrase Lady Bracknell, seems like carelessness.

There's another shock for the loyal girlfriend when she finds him holding a baby - "my grandson". Frankly, if this were played as a black family comedy, it might have improved into originality.

As it is, De Niro is on boring autopilot, McDormand is wasted in a "hold the baby" role, and Franco is Vogue's idea of a "crack" model.

Which will Vincent be: good cop or good father? Or both? No citation for guessing the winning clichè.

Though based on a true story, it's Hollywood's idea of truth - "Only characters and events have been altered," read the two-faced end-credits.

Michael Caton-Jones makes laborious use of the derelict casino and seaside ruins - "Looks like the Serbian army came through" - as a metaphorical backdrop to derelict lives, but leaves De Niro bathed in autumn sunshine, dandling his grandson. Moviemaking by numbers.

City By The Sea
Cert: cert15