Created by Robert E Howard in 1932, by the time Howard committed suicide four years later he’d written 21 complete stories about the Hyborian age adventures of his Cimmerian warrior.  In 1970, the sword and sorcery character was launched as a Marvel comic and became one of its most successful titles, running until 1995. In 1992 he also provided the breakthrough role for Arnold Schwarzenegger in an adaptation relatively faithful to the Howard canon.

19 years later, Conan returns to the screen in the person of Jason Momoa, previously known for his long running role in Stargate:Atlantis and, most recently, in Game of Thrones. Directed by Marcus Nispel, it’s his fourth remake after Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Frankenstein and Friday the 13th and, mercifully, a whole lot better than his last excursion into barbarian territory with Pathfinder.

A plot that involves Conan seeking vengeance against the snake cult worshipping warlord who killed his parents mirrors the Schwarzenegger movie, but that’s pretty much the only similarity. For a start, this is considerably more violent, setting the tone when, following Morgan Freeman’s portentously narrated prologue about how a tyrant’s  mask of demonic power was divided into four with each shard kept hidden by one of the Barbarian tribes, Conan’s born in the heat of battle, cut from his dying mother’s womb by his father (Ron Perlman) during a raid on their village.

Then, when Conan’s a teenager looking to prove himself, his village is massacred and dad smelted to death by Khalar Zym (Stephen Lang), the ruthless warlord reassembling the mask.

Fast forward 20 years and Conan learns that Zym and his sorceress daughter, Marique (a Freddy Krueger-nailed Rose McGowan), are seeking the pureblood descendent of the Acheron sorcerers in order to unlock the mask’s power and resurrect Zym’s dead wife.

Rather fortuitously for our pectorially impressive hero , this turns out to be Tamara (Rachel Nichols), a feisty but sexy trainee priestess who not only enables Conan to get within sword stabbing distance of his nemesis but also affords him some recuperative cave sex after he makes a hash of his initial showdown.

From hereon in, you can pretty much write the synopsis yourself as Conan gets to make a last minute rescue, battles an obligatory serpent and finally gets to go hand to hand with Zym. But then it’s not a movie looking to surprise you with any twists or deep subtexts, but, in keeping with Conan’s modest mantra for life, “I live. I love. I slay... I am content”, to keep the battle sequences coming and show off Momoa’s abs to their rippling best. As such, it succeeds admirably at both, the former even touching on inspired in a fight with a bunch of sandmen assassins conjured by Marique.

Although Conan’s not exactly a man of many words, a welcomingly self-aware Momoa sounds considerably more articulate than Arnie’s  version and doesn’t creak when the dialogue calls for a note of humour either. He glowers pretty well too, although it’s McGowan’s barkingly over the top high camp dominatrix who you’d really want to see resurrected in a sequel.