The Mayans are visited by plague and failing crops, so they take to chopping the heads off captured tribesmen and rolling them down the stone steps of their city temples in sacrifice.

It's the dying years of the civilisation. The conquistadors are on their way. One of the intended sacrifices, the handsome one, makes a run for it amid the incantations. His wife and child, equally beautiful, are in peril elsewhere.

That's about the size and shape of the plot. What you really need to know is that Mel Gibson directed Apocalypto. So expect a painful, sweaty, bloody trek. Mel's palette is ochre and flesh, his oeuvre gore. Torture and cruelty are his emotional game plan: Passion of the Christ, Braveheart. Expect subtitles. Now that he's got a self-funded Aramaic and Latin epic out of the way, why not one in Yucatec?

No one apart from Mel quite knows what drives his pleasure in suffering, although he is Catholic. And he does have seven kids. He's just turned 50. And his second name is Columcille.

Watching Apocalypto, I quickly thought of Passion, Gladiator and Predator. Gladiator in the arbitrary selection of victims, or rather cast members; Predator in the dark terror of the tropical jungle; Passion (I've only seen still photos) in the sheer naked carnage. I can imagine a lot of hatred towards this film – I have a slice myself. I worry about pretty much everything Mel stands for: extreme religiosity, dodgy attitudes on gays and Jews, a propensity for violence, at least vicariously. And his films are pretty much nonsense from start to finish. It's been 25 years since he was in a one in which you could praise his acting. So Apocalypto is progress: he's not in it.

And yet. It's extremely well crafted, vibrant in colour and frame, it's non-stop action, and it's riveting through its two-hours-twenty runtime.

I wouldn't recommend anyone see it, as you might loathe it. But the odd thing is that you just may not.