His improbable heroes are Perry Makepeace (McGregor), an academic, and his barrister wife Gail Perkins (Harris, the Moneypenny to Daniel Craig's James Bond). On holiday at a tennis resort in Antigua, they meet a loud Russian giant called Dima (Skarsgard), who invites Perry to a late-night party where naked women ride white horses, cocaine is served by the cupful and tattooed skinhead giants use knives as instruments of seduction.
It is no surprise to learn that Dima is up to his elbows in organised crime. Less expected is that he wants out: his employers have decided that his time as a money-launderer is up and he's a dead man walking. He wants to Perry to broker him a deal with British intelligence.
The principal implausibility of the idea that a powerful gangster would entrust his life to a milquetoast professor of poetics is only the first of many. Certainly Makepeace's proficiency at unarmed combat and small-arms shooting is not, to my knowledge, common among lit-crit specialists.
The script tinkers inexplicably with details (changing the spelling of Perry's surname from Makepiece, even though no one will notice, and his academic speciality, which was Orwell in the novel) but doesn't explain the couple's extended, impromptu absences from important jobs or how Dima could expect to be safe in the city where Alexander Litvinenko died.
Skarsgard, playing big for once, has fun; Lewis, as a maverick Whitehall mandarin is a pleasure to watch and there's a delicious payoff at the end, but the film as a whole is derivative, flabby and flat.
• This is my last film review for the Herald. Thanks for reading for the past 30 years.
Our Kind of Traitor
Cast: Ewan McGregor, Stellan Skarsgard, Damian Lewis, Naomie Harris, Jeremy Northam
Director: Susanna White
Running Time: 107 mins
Rating: tbc
Verdict: Derivative and sluggish