Stephen Herek’s The Three Musketeers must surely stand as one of Hollywood’s most cynically made production of the 1990s. It seems not to be made with love or passion, but rather an exacting fidelity to a strict formula. That the end result is still broadly entertaining is surely a result of that fidelity. This is commercial cinema in its most generic and functional form, like the film equivalent of fast food.

In 1991 Morgan Creek Productions found enormous success with Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, a star-studded combination of swashbuckling adventure and contemporary action film. Truth be told it was quite the creative effort, with some surprising elements – devil worship and witchcraft, for example – and inspired production techniques.  Two years after its release Walt Disney Pictures released their own derivative take with The Three Musketeers. It had learned a lot of lessons from Prince of Thieves; I would argue it learned all of the wrong ones.

Where Prince of Thieves adapted Robin Hood, The Three Musketeers adapted Alexandre Dumas’ classic novel. Where one cast Kevin Costner and Christian Slater, the other cast Keifer Sutherland, Charlie Sheen, and Chris O’Donnell. Thieves used English actor Alan Rickman as the Sheriff of Nottingham, with a growling Michael Wincott as his sidekick. Musketeers used Tim Curry, and improbably kept Wincott in the sidekick role. Michael Kamen was hired to compose the score on both films. Bryan Adams had performed a massive hit song for Prince of Thieves‘ closing credits, and so Disney hired him to perform another one for The Three Musketeers – this time with Sting and Rod Stewart thrown in for good measure.

To an extent The Three Musketeers still works as a slice of populist adventure, because it has followed the template closely and it has cast decent talent in all of the key roles. Oliver Platt is a particular delight as the bombastic Porthos. Julie Delpy is a charming but underwritten as Constance. Speaking of underwritten, Rebecca de Mornay feels wasted as the villainous Milady. The central male cast do precisely what one would expect them to do: Sheen excels at deadpan comedy, Sutherland is gloomy and resolute, Curry is hammy and delightful, and so on. It simply all feels so purposefully designed and mechanical.

Chris O’Donnell stands out with his particularly egregious American accent and terrible hairstyle. It is not his fault, but rather the film’s. It simply does not care whether he seems out of place or not. It is all broadly enjoyable, but it is enjoyable product.

I find myself uncertain what to think about The Three Musketeers. On the one hand it has some funny elements and some sword-fighting action. It is in large parts rather enjoyable. At the same time it seems so completely cynical in its construction and so indebted to Kevin Reynolds’ earlier work that praising it feels like rewarding a child for copying their homework. Sure it is watchable, but it is stealing somebody else’s watchability wholesale.