In the comic-book world of Green Lantern, willpower is the strongest force in the universe. Those who master it (and happen to possess the special light-up, geek-speak decoder ring) can conjure up machine guns, swords, catapults, and pendant necklaces just by imagining them. It’s a sweet superpower enjoyed by the intergalactic peacekeeping force known as the Green Lantern Corps, but it would have been even more useful to the movie’s writers. If only they could have squinted real hard and willed a better script into existence.

Lantern hits the standard superhero origin-story notes: Guy (it’s always a guy) discovers power, guy tests new power in a montage sequence set to fist-pumping rock ‘n’ roll, guy wrestles with inadequacies that mirror newfound power, guy defeats villain by overcoming inadequacies to discover the inner power he always had. Oh, and guy gets the girl. That canned character arc isn’t necessarily a bad thing when the character is worth rooting for. But instead of rooting for Ryan Reynolds’s Hal Jordan to save the world, you just feel bad that the dude is saddled with lines like “The ring chose me for a reason. This is it.”

As comic book characters go, Green Lantern is out there—literally—and presents opportunities to explore new storytelling territory for the genre. Jordan is the only human in the 3,600-member corps, which means he gets to team up with pig-faced brutes and elven-eared warriors from far-flung galaxies. But because the movie’s big baddie—a planet-devouring cloud of ash called Parallax—has conveniently targeted Earth, Jordan’s time with his otherworldly buddies gets cut short. Give Reynolds some credit, though. He tries his best to juice up the role with wit and the occasional wink at superhero-movie conventions—including what might have been a gentle jab at Christian Bale’s growly Bat-voice. It’s just not enough to overcome an overcooked story, where all the universe is a playground—but the hero is grounded in terrestrial clichés.

Green Lantern opens in theaters June 17.