What charm Romancing the Stone had seems to evaporate in the African heat. Kathleen Turner still edges out Michael Douglas but neither of them seem especially committed to the material. Danny DeVito is shoe-horned in rather clumsily, partly as middling comic relief and partly for consistency with the first movie. Once again there’s an overreliance on coincidence. Perhaps the silliest and least believable part is when Douglas – no pilot – drives a plane around as though it’s a car. I think the depiction of Omar’s climactic address to his people, with stadium lights and pyrotechnics and Hollywood production values, is supposed to be satirising something, but I couldn’t discern what. There’s a slight veneer of racism too. Skip it.