True Blood’s Alexander Skarsgård stars as the King of the Jungle in this joyless, soulless Hollywood actioner, directed by David Yates, director of four Harry Potter movies that aren’t Prisoner of Azkaban, so nice try, fella. Yates, along with screenwriters Adam Cozad and Craig Brewer, attempts to mix up the Tarzan mythos by setting his film after Tarzan—real name John Clayton III—has returned to his late parents’ home country of England, leaving ( some of) his wild ways behind. Alas, the end result is still generic and entirely unmemorable: I know there were some action scenes, some flashbacks and some quieter character moments strung together in a vaguely linear fashion, but damned if I can pick out more than one or two specific instances of things I actually liked. ( One example: The bad guy’s weapon of choice is a rosary, which he uses as a whip. At one point it’s wrapped around Tarzan’s throat and he flexes his neck muscles in order to snap it. It’s a move reminiscent of The Rock flexing his way out of a cast in Furious 7, aka the single greatest movie moment of the 21st century so far. I liked that, because it was ridiculous, and this movie needed more of that. The Legend of Tarzan, follow Toy-Box’s advice and get funky.)