Gummy, over-the-top war sequences with arrows flying in the air and top-shots of men running across battlefields have all been seen before. Oliver Stone has a vision but it all seems twisted, psychotic and jaded in his new film "Alexander".

Pseudo-historicals set in medieval gladiatorial glory have now run out of steam ... and esteem.

Some years ago Russell Crowe got into short skirts and matching vests to fight the lions in a Roman arena in "Gladiator". He won an Oscar.

But since then there has been an overdose of such stories. This year alone has seen "Troy" and "King Arthur".

Now, Oliver Stone who had earlier directed contemporary biopics on the lives of John F Kennedy and Rock star Jim Morrison, has attempted one on the life of "Alexander" - one of the greatest warriors and conquerors of all times.

But his film, a long self-indulgent hotchpotch of drama, mayhem and sexual escapades, has little to do with history and fails to impress.

The film stars Colin Farrel in the central role as Alexander, who is constantly sexually infatuated by his mother, played by Angelina Jolie.

Val Kilmer (who played Jim Morrison in Stone's earlier biopic) plays the role of the deprived father.

While Farrel, in a specially designed wig, ended up looking more like Morrison than Alexander, his character is shown to suffer from severe psychological disorders.

He is attracted to men and is repulsed by what war makes him do.

So much for conquering the world! The legendary conqueror in Stone's film is shown as being felled by his inability to control his emotions that flood into his life.

Stone's Alexander doesn't want to kill ...oh no! He only loses his cool when aspersions are cast on his waspish mother.

In the film, Stone also attempts at homosexuality - in what might be the first effort ever to sexually liberate a historical figure - as Alexander is shown as watching men from 'India' slither and slide enticingly on the dance floor.

Alexander even smooches a sinewy male dancer straight on his lips while his 'Indian' wife stares in repulsion.

The protagonist's relationship with his mother too, is specially tormented and troubling and the Farrel-Jolie sequences have been scripted with vicious vibrancy.

While Greek characters are shown in all their flamboyance and debauchery seem to be on uppers and cocaine all the time, the 'Indian' men are shown as rotund men in ill-fitting tawdry robes drinking out of silver goblets.... Really!

The epic, in Stone's hand, collapses in a hysterical heave.

Farrel resembles more like an apache in a spaghetti western than one of our most formidable figures from history, and there are moments when he also appears Christ-like in his martyred self-worth.

The warriors are shown more at war with themselves and their conscience than the countries that they wish to conquer.

Never before has a Hollywood filmmaker of Oliver's stature fallen with a bigger thud. Come back, Cleopatra. All is forgiven!