Wonder Woman (12A) ****

Dir: Patty Jenkins

With: Gal Gadot, Robin Wright, Chris Pine

Runtime: 141 minutes

THROW the lasso of truth – of which more later – around Wonder Woman and what do we find? Full-on feminist icon or, to paraphrase those who campaigned against the character becoming a UN ambassador, an outdated, big breasted white woman in satin knickers and kinky boots?

One thing we know: this chick has patience. It has been 76 years since Wonder Woman first appeared in print. Wars and governments have come and gone, every other Tom, Dick and Harry comic book character has had their own live action feature film, and there stood Wonder Woman, thwacking away at the glass ceiling of superhero-dom with a Barbie-sized hammer, hoping it would one day be her turn.

No pressure, then, on director Patty Jenkins as she makes film history. Nor on Israeli actor Gal Gadot, who plays the titular heroine created by William Moulton Marston. It is only a million dreams of little girls, now women, who grew up on Lynda Carter’s TV heroine on which you tread, sisters. Like I say, no pressure. So how do they do?

As a commentary on women and the state of the world men created, don’t make me laugh. It’s a comic book movie, for heaven’s sake. As a summer blockbuster with blistering action, charm to burn and plenty of potential, it’s a hit.

Jenkins (whose biggest film to date has been the 2003 serial killer biopic Monster) begins by getting as far as possible from the cheesiness of the 1970s television show by taking the Amazonian warrior princess Diana back to her roots. Welcome to the island of Themyscira, ruled by women for women, where the Queen’s daughter is taught to fight by none other than Robin Wright. If you think Wright is awesome in House of Cards, wait till you get a load of her “flying scissor kick while firing three arrows simultaneously” trick.

Diana has not a care in the world, other than a nagging sense of destiny, until the day a man drops from the sky in a burning plane. Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) is an American spy who has been operating behind enemy lines during the First World War. After Diana saves his life he tells her of the terrible conflagration engulfing mankind. Diana detects the hand of Ares, the god of war, and resolves to do what she can to end the suffering. Pausing only to grab her lasso of truth (which makes those who come into contact with it spill the beans), a sword and a shield, off she pops to London, like some kickass Mary Poppins, in the company of the amiable Steve.

So begins an awfully big, boys’ and girls’ own adventure that runs from the streets of early 20th century London to the trenches in France. The screenplay by Allen Heinberg (Sex and the City, Grey’s Anatomy) lightens the dramatic load with several comic characters. Among the laugh brigade is Ewan Bremner, Trainspotting’s very own, who forms part of the band of brothers accompanying Diana and Steve to France. Being a comedy Scotsman (Bremner well within his comfort zone here) he naturally wears a kilt and drinks a lot. Yawn.

But enough of all this war and peace and the fate of the world stuff, what about the satin knickers and American tan tights you ask? Carter’s TV get-up has been shredded, mercifully, in favour of what might be described as a designer bodice, all structured panels and leather, with a dinky little skirt and gladiator boots. Think Dior with a dash of S&M. It is still fantastically silly, as is the way the stunning Gadot goes through the entire movie at the centre of mayhem with not a smudge to her make-up. You’ve heard of waterproof mascara: this woman has war-proof stuff.

Like many another comic book movie, Wonder Woman does not know when to quit while it is ahead, with some scenes dragging on for what seems an eternity. But there is plenty of promise here, not least in Gadot, who is as convincing a fighter as she is a lover. Women, eh? Multi-tasking to the end.