'We don't need no education' - cue inevitable shots of blank-faced schoolkids on a conveyor-belt to the dead-end mincer. It's hard to see where the much-rumoured creative clashes between Floydian self-analyst Roger Waters and director Parker arose, since the movie is a matter of such stunning literalism: it's little more than kinetic sleeve art keyed slavishly to a slim concept-album narrative. Neither Parker's bombastic live action sequences (carrying Geldof's mute Pink from a war-baby context of military carnage towards neo-fascist rallying, via the turbulence of rock stardom) nor Gerald Scarfe's animation offer more than pictorial italicising of Waters' lyrics; and the autobiographical pain is laid on so thick it emerges looking more like misogynist petulance. Crossing Privilege with Tommy couldn't result in anything shallower. All in all, it's just another flick to appal.