Directed by Jim Gillespie, starring Sylvester Stallone, Polly Walker, Charles S Dutton, Tom Berenger, Robert Patrick and Kris Kristofferson.

With his much derided reworking of 'Get Carter' never getting a release on this side of the pond, and his last film, 'Driven', cruising straight to video, it seems like an eternity since Sylvester Stallone was on cinema screens. After seeing 'D-Tox' the only question you'll have is why he was in such a rush to get back.

He plays Jake Malloy, an FBI agent who's on the trail of a serial cop killer. But just when Malloy gets close to a breakthrough both he and the case fall apart – his girlfriend is murdered by the killer who also manages to escape the ensuing manhunt. Malloy begins drinking himself to death, until an intervention by his boss (Dutton) convinces him to dry out at a clinic run by former policeman Dr John Mitchell (Kristofferson). Mitchell has opened up a new treatment centre in a disused military base in Wyoming and has gathered a group of cops with addiction problems as his first batch of patients. Miles from anywhere, they try and settle down to beat their demons with Malloy finding that he's far from the most messed up. But any hopes of getting clean as gently as possible are dashed when two patients commit suicide, leaving Malloy to wonder whether they actually killed themselves or if his girlfriend's killer is watching his every move.

Director Jim Gillespie is best known for his teen slasher flick 'I Know What You Did Last Summer' and 'D-Tox' is best described as 'I Know What You Did Last Winter' as a snowed-in Stallone is toyed with by a killer and tries to figure out who he can trust. The set-up (including the army base) may recall John Carpenter's 1982 horror classic 'The Thing', but any attempts Gillespie makes at echoing that film's mounting paranoia and fear are cancelled out by a script which gives the cast no credit for their talents. Granted, you'd only expect the tough guy turn from Stallone, but given that Tom Berenger (the freaky clinic handyman) and Robert Patrick (a speed addict SWAT man) co-star, it's not asking too much for some decent drama in between the deaths. What you get is dialogue which suggests that the autocue was only working on half speed for the shoot ("doc's missing, two men are dead"), scares which you've seen 1,000 times before and an ending that's so predictable you wonder why anyone bothered.

With the cast and location on offer, Gillespie had the makings of an ensemble piece which played more to suspense than shocks. Instead he piles on so many clichés and inconsistencies that you'd need a snowplough to get through them and rushes the whole story as if stores only gave him enough film for a 90-minute feature.

Don't freeze in the cinema for this one.

Harry Guerin