THE hard sell on futuristic serial-killer thriller The Cell involves Jennifer Lopez flashing that Latino smile at Leicester Square premieres.

Save for one gratuitous flash of la Lopez's hot bot in knickers as she opens her fridge, her cat brushing against her calf, FHM and Loaded readers will be frustrated by the lack of Jennifer moments to rival Out Of Sight.

Unless, that is, the prospect of gazing upon Jennifer in rubber lying on her back in mid-air excites you. Even if does, it won't do so for long because music video graduate Tarsem Singh's restless, breathless movie is full of grotesque, unpleasant, self-indulgent imagery.

While a short, sharp shock might once have been recommended for miscreants by Tory boot-camp enthusiasts, as well as for pop promos and horror film-makers, a repeat-offender succession of long, blunt shocks does nothing more than make you squirm in your chair.

You may be wondering, should that image of Jennifer Lopez framed in rubber still be pleasing you, why she is in such gear. Pop goddess Jennifer, sadly as mis-cast as a fishing fly up a tree, is playing a psychologist with an expertise in journeying into the subconscious of troubled others with the aid of virtual reality equipment.

Her latest mind trip is into the comatose body and tortured, damaged psyche of one Carl Stargher (Vincent D'Onofrio), a kinky psycho severely abused as a child. He likes to suspend himself above the saline-preserved dead bodies of his victims, using a pulley system involving a series of hooks in his back. Director Singh revels in showing this S & M freak show but not even Ozzy Osbourne, Marilyn Manson or Kiss went this far in their live acts!

FBI loose cannon Vincent Vaughn needs Lopez's mind-penetrating assistance to locate the delirious Stargher's latest kidnap victim (Tara Subkoff), who is being prepared for death by drowning by means of a long cold shower in a closed container.

Singh raids The Matrix special effects cabinet for an all-out assault on the audience's senses. As befits a flashy pop video hand, his hallucinatory, deranged, computer-generated visuals are superficially impressive but they are no longer lasting than the benefits of a Chinese meal.

This obsession with visuals - bursting skin and all - leaves Lopez, Vaughn and D'Onofrio to drown in a lack of suspense and abject, numb dialogue, reducing them to human props in a graphic joyride to hell.

Out Of Sight may have been out of this world but Jennifer Lopez will wish The Cell is out of sight, out of mind, as soon as possible.