Starring Jackie Chan and Steve Coogan. Rated PG.

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The original movie version of Around the World in Eighty Days won the best-picture Oscar in 1956. Starring David Niven as Phileas Fogg--a classic English gentleman of the Victorian era who bets the stuffy members of his club that he can circle the globe in precisely 80 days--the script was cowritten by legendary New Yorker wag S. J. Perelman and produced by the flamboyant showman Michael Todd. Featuring sumptuous international locations and more than 40 star cameos, the film splashed money across the screen like vintage champagne.

Despite its pedigree, that movie has always felt as stiffly pretty as a picture book. With the exception of the nimble Cantinflas, the Mexican comedian who added much-needed zest as Fogg's devoted manservant, Passepartout, there was a strange lack of genuine merriment to the proceedings. This should be good news for anybody contemplating a filmed remake of the Jules Verne story.

Unfortunately, the latest version, Around the World in 80 Days, plays so fast and loose with the original film that you wonder why they even bothered with the title. Tailored to the martial-arts skills of Jackie Chan and aimed squarely at the Disney crowd, its spirit is much closer to what you'd get if you added a kung-fu spin to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

Not that the cast doesn't have a certain appeal. The aging Chan, who plays Passepartout and doubles as executive producer, has slowed down noticeably over the past few years. But he's still the closest thing to a martial-arts version of Gene Kelly, combining obvious grace with an inventive use of props. His breezy personality helps nudge the movie over a lot of potholes, and the supporting cast--Steve Coogan as Fogg and Cécile De France as his love interest--is consistently likable.

It doesn't really matter that the plot, which centres on the theft of an ancient Chinese Buddha figure, bears almost no resemblance to the source material. We can even forgive director Frank Coraci (best known for such Adam Sandler vehicles as The Waterboy and The Wedding Singer) for the patchy delivery typical of a first-time filmmaker. A bigger worry is that the production values are so obviously shabby: the whole thing looks like it was hastily assembled from a truckload of used cardboard.

Consider that Todd gave us sophisticated cameos by the likes of Noel Coward and John Gielgud. This time around we get Rob Schneider as an obliging bum and Arnold Schwarzenegger as a horny Turkish sultan. Clad in a frizzy wig, the mugging California governor looks a little like a musclebound Gilda Radner. His appearance, although mercifully brief, is a clear sign that we're headed straight for the bargain basement.