Prior to becoming a spy, Xander was a paperboy in the worst neighborhood in LA.

Cage. Xander Cage.

Okay, I’m not the first to say it and I won’t be the last: XXX’s reluctant hero is in prime position to unseat that martini-swilling double-oh-whatever as the movie spy to watch. This first film of what’s sure to be a successful franchise gives the spy movie formula a much needed update while hanging onto the elements that make it popular: high-tech gadgetry, thrilling action sequences and an appealing lead.

Vin Diesel plays Xander Cage, whose talent for extreme sports and fondness for elaborate – and destructive – pranks against authority figures have brought him a fair bit of fame. They’ve also landed him on the wrong side of the law, a fact that’s exploited by NSA agent Augustus Gibbons (Samuel L. Jackson) to blackmail Cage into doing some undercover work in the nest of an Eastern European bad guy.

Apparently this isn't an unusual sight in Prague, because the little man with the briefcase seems quite unfazed.

From its opening scenes, where a tuxedo-clad secret agent meets his untimely demise in the middle of a moshing crowd of metal fans, it’s clear that this is not going to be your father’s spy movie. With his shaved head, skate-punk wardrobe and more tattoos than a boatload of sailors, Cage is – as the posters remind us – a new kind of secret agent. But the differences really are only skin deep. Beneath his scuzzy exterior, Cage is an old-school action hero: brave, honorable and virtually indestructible. Director Rob Cohen and screenwriter Rich Wilkes may be polishing up the formula, but they’re definitely not rewriting it.

Diesel makes a likeable hero. Convincingly tough, he also pulls off funny, sincere and smart reasonably well. He’s got an undeniable screen presence, which comes in handy because he’s in almost every scene. Marton Csokas is also good, and more understated than you might expect, as the megalomaniacal villain.

I hope she's ordering a pizza.

Cohen’s directing scales are definitely tipped to the side of style rather than substance, not a bad thing for a big-budget summer spy movie. A few of the action scenes went on a little long for my taste while he lingered lovingly over slow-motion shots of explosions and motorcycle jumps. And the feminist in me cringed when midway through the movie Xander encountered the nameless sexpot with a thing for four-poster beds. What really got my eyes rolling, though, was Cohen’s habit for starting about every third scene with a shot of the XXX tattoo on the back of Diesel’s neck. What’s the matter, Rob, did you think we were going to forget the name of the movie?

Overall, though, XXX delivers the stylish thrills it promises in the previews and what more can you ask? Its plot is no more implausible than the average James Bond film, and, for my money, a lot more entertaining. In the spy movie game, triple-x beats double-oh hands down.

Gorilla Pants rating: 2.5 out of 4 bananas