Yet another testosterone-surge outing, charming pretty ladies and punching nasty men, just like they used to do in those halcyon days of B-movie mediocrity. The plot is the same unimaginative fodder that followers of the series would by this stage become inured to (…). Constantine’s iconic, and slightly camp, portrayal of the world’s most unflappable secret agent is a delicious (but hardly subtle) piece of parody. — James Travers