rated PG-13

A prolific author of novels, both literary and graphic, Neil Gaiman has seemed poised on the brink of mainstream success for two decades. He exhibits a keen sense for fairytale logic, carrying his readers repeatedly through all manner of looking glasses into new, hidden dream-realms. He’s got a sly sense of humor and a remarkable fluency for all things mythological. His work has a great way of turning familiar archetypes completely inside out, and often leads his readers to re-examine their own definitions of fantasy, comedy and myth. Having witnessed the big-screen butchery of the works of contemporaries like Alan Moore (see “League of Extraordinary Gentlemen”), Gaiman diligently guards his properties.

With “Stardust,” which he originally wrote over a decade ago, he withstood dozens of requests from directors who thought they had an angle, from studios looking to ride the considerable wake of the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, from up-and-coming actresses looking to make their mark. His agent must have been tearing his hair out at all the “Thanks but no thanks” letters Gaiman drafted over the last ten years. Finally however, he caved to a pitch by his friend, producer-turned-director, Matthew Vaughan. Vaughan is known primarily for his work with British gangster guru Guy Ritchie on testosterone-pumping pictures like “Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels” and “Snatch.” His single feature as director was the well-received “last job” caper flick “Layer Cake,” starring Daniel Craig, in 2004. Gaiman liked Vaughan’s approach, and trusted him enough to hand over the reigns to his fantasy adventure.

Gaiman could almost be forgiven for the resulting debacle, had Vaughan not so generously included him in the entire process—from scripting to casting and right through to production design. Subsequently, any excuse Gaiman might make for this embarrassingly uneven misfire of a movie are rendered woefully moot. The story, written to evoke a pre-Tolkien era of Grimm Brothers fantasy, concerns a young ye-olde British shop-boy on a self-imposed quest into a neighboring forbidden fantasyland to retrieve a fallen star to prove his love to a dubiously vacuous village pretty. Once over the wall, he must overcome all the requisite obstacles any Disney-fed fantasy lover would expect. Good helpings of witches, princes, ghosts, heroes and swordplay are on display, to be sure, but there’s a noticeable deficit in the sum of these parts. The elements never seem to add up to anything new or inspiring.

Never has such a great cast been so disappointingly squandered. A more milquetoast hero, here played by a pasty-faced Charlie Cox, they could not have found. His transformation from apron wearing to sword wielding is summed up in exactly one clichéd montage scene with the equally miscast Robert Deniro. Deniro’s flamingly stereotypical turn as a crossdressing sky-boat captain is simply an embarrassment, to the audience as well as himself. The generally dependable Clare Danes, as the human embodiment of the fallen star, chomps away on her fake English accent like a noisy stick of Doublemint gum.

Despite a laudable impersonation of Gwyneth Paltrow and repeated pronouncements that “she’s a star” Danes just can’t seem to shine here in any believable way. Michelle Pfeiffer takes a valiant stab at villainy as the evil witch bent on eating the star’s heart to achieve everlasting youth, but no degree of eye-rolling and teeth-gnashing could save her from the badly caked layers of makeup she endures as the price of her spell casting costs her what little youth she has left.

Supporting characters, mostly harvested from a recent crop of British TV comedy, just disappear into the sets. Underdeveloped effects sequences serve only to highlight the scattershot production values. Though the designs and backgrounds are duly lush and expansive, many shots are conspicuously lifted wholesale from “Lord of the Rings,” underscoring how dry the creative well here really is. Occasional jabs of silliness and humor come off as sadly misplaced and uncomfortably contrived.

Don’t believe anyone who tries to tell you this movie is a new “Princess Bride.” It isn’t. Not an ember of “Bride’s” ingenuity, light, wit or style burns through this sad burlap patchwork. No one has fun storming this castle. Neil Gaiman may make some terrific stories, but sadly, the truth may bear out that his stories make terrible movies. One hopes he guards his next one a bit more closely.