Released worldwide on June 6 (06-06-06 no less), John Moore's remake of The Omen remains faithful to the 1976 horror classic starring Gregory Peck and Lee Remick. The underlying plot and characters are the same; so, too, are most of the grisly death sequences, including a sticky end for a meddlesome priest and a tricycle ride from hell that proves children should not be allowed to play unsupervised in the house.

Screenwriter David Seltzer invests his version with a number of contemporary touches, such as making Damien's unsuspecting parents much younger. In an uncomfortable nod to reality, he also points to recent devastating such as the September 11 attacks, the Columbia space shuttle crash, the Asian tsunami and atrocities in Iraq as the portents of the birth of the Anti-Christ, as decreed in ancient scripture. Harvey Stephens, who played little Damien in the original film, enjoys a cameo as a tabloid reporter, asking probing questions about a suicidal nanny.

If the original Omen generated a palpable tension and sense of unease, the new film is a little too campy to truly unsettle us. It also suffers from miscasting in key roles. Liev Schreiber and Julia Stiles are mismatched as the young husband and wife who unwittingly harbour the spawn of Satan, while little Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick doesn't project menace as the titular terror. Indeed, the few times his face registers any emotion, it's the mischievous smirk of a pantomime villain. Mia Farrow's portrayal of Damien's overly protective nanny (chilling evoked by Billie Whitelaw in 1976) verges on the hilarious.

Politics plays a key role in the new Omen. Diplomatic rising star Robert Thorn (Schreiber) and his wife Katherine (Stiles) lavish nothing but love on their son Damien but it is clear from a very early age that their little boy isn't like the other youngsters. Indeed, Damien isn't their son at all the couple's boy died in childbirth and Robert agreed to switch the dead infant for an orphan to spare his wife the devastating truth.

When horrific accidents befall anyone who dares to cross Damien, Robert and Katherine fear that their boy may in fact be the Anti-Christ. Determined to put an end to Damien's reign of terror, the parents join forces with priest Father Brennan (Pete Postlethwaite) and tabloid photographer Keith Jennings (David Thewlis) to exorcise the evil.

The Omen moves along at a brisk pace, building to a final shot that suggests a potential sequel has the makings of a fantastic spoof. Marco Beltrami's orchestral score seems dull next to Gerry Goldsmith's haunting theme music, and Prague, where the majority of the film was shot, bears little resemblance to the London setting.

Special effects are well executed but the bloody parade of hangings, decapitation and impalement seems rather tame in this age of devilish Final Destination ingenuity.

Nightmarish memories of summer holidays flood back during R.V. Runaway Vacation, Robin Williams's misfiring comedy about the misfortunes that befall a dysfunctional family during their annual break. One of the hilarious' highpoints of Barry Sonnenfeld's film is Williams being drenched in the contents of a septic tank. He stinks, and sadly so does his picture.

The leading man's overpowering comic schtick (wild gesticulations, funny voices et al) cannot disguise the fatal flaws in Geoff Rodkey's screenplay, which limps painfully from one whimper to the next, punctuated by syrupy scenes of family bonding. One of the two-dimensional characters speaks for us all when she whines: "I could actually throw up from how bored I am." In a moment of uncharacteristic restraint, the film doesn't follow through with an explosion of vomit.

At the centre of all the mayhem is Bob Munro (Williams), an overworked, stressed out executive at Pure Vibe soda, who fondly remembers the good old days when he used to be close to his children Cassie (Joanna 'Jo-Jo' Levesque) and Carl (Josh Hutcherson).

Now, the Munros barely spend any quality time together. So Bob organises a family vacation to sun-kissed Hawaii . . . only for an important meeting to crop up in Colorado, which Bob needs to attend otherwise, as pointed out by his slave-driving boss (Will Arnett), he will be seeking alternative employment.

So, the father cancels Hawaii and crams his loved ones into a luminous, state-of-the-art rented motor home for a road trip to the mountains. Suddenly, life on the road seems like the highway to hell . . .

R.V., or Relentlessly Vapid as it should be subtitled, falls apart well before the Munro clan's recreational vehicle heads for the scrapyard. Just when you think it can't possibly get any worse, the entire cast kicks up its heels for an end credits sing song, massacring Route 66 in a country-meets-pop-meets-rap-meets-yodelling style.