Rock the Kasbah review: the pathetic last wheeze of the Baby Boomer brigade

Every now and then, The Day the Clown Cried – that notorious Jerry Lewis film about a children's entertainer in Auschwitz – makes the news and journalists compile panels on similarly indulgent celebrity follies that never saw the light of day.

The unnecessarily appalling Rock the Kasbah reads like an entry to such a list, but it actually exists and it now makes its way into domestic cinemas.

Rock the Kasbah stars Bill Murray as a charmless US rock promoter who, on an unlikely trip to Afghanistan, manages to save the country from itself by the sheer weight of his western informality.

Once Zooey Deschanel’s singer is sent back home, we are left with two, equally problematic female characters: Kate Hudson as a prostitute with a heart of gold, and Leem Lubany as a local singer whom Bill will surely reinvent.

The film’s many longueurs are extended by Murray walking us through tedious anecdotes concerning the antics of rock stars from the supposed golden era. Though these stories are presented as the musings of an aging egoist, the film is still powered by nostalgia for the cocaine years.

We wish the great Barry Levinson – director of this grey, ugly film – no ill, but Rock the Kasbah feels likes the pathetic last wheezes of the Baby Boomer Entitlement Project (Bro Division).

All of which we could forgive if – despite Murray closing his eyes mid-syllable as he has always done when attacking an unfunny line – the piece remained so terminally witless.

Back to the vault with you.