The Frost/Pegg pairing – a far cry from that of Frost/Nixon, which, historians agree, was altogether less homoerotic – has produced some wonderful work as of late. The pair have collaborated on both the terrific Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, as well as student TV favourite Spaced. In this sense, then, latest effort Paul (which the two co-wrote, albeit bereft of directorial collaborator Edgar Wright) is a continuation of this blossoming bromance.

However, it is also a film with a very specific audience in mind – geeks, braving sunlight and contact with XX-chromosoned ‘normals’ to snort at jokes relating to Ewoks and Mac & Me, tears rolling down their horn-rimmed spectacles into salsa-splattered Dorito bags. It’s great if you get these gags, but God help you if you don’t.

The plot follows the brilliantly named Graeme Willy (Pegg) and “the writer” (as he is wont to introduce himself; a running gag that is missed when it disappears midway through running time) Clive Gollings (Frost), two British geeks on a road trip across America’s premier UFO-related landmarks. Before long, however, they run across an escaped extraterrestrial, the titular Paul (voiced by a typically gruff Seth Rogen). Now racing against time to deliver the crash-landee back to his people, they’re pursued by an enigmatic MIB (Jason Schwartzman) and even manage to pick up a token female companion in Kristen Wiig’s cycloptic Bible-basher.

What stands out throughout the film is the chemistry between the leads. Indeed, the first half hour is devoted entirely to Bill Withers-accompanied scenes of the protagonists in low-cut dressing gowns calling one another ‘sausage’, and so on. It’s a decidedly English affair until the appearance of Rogen and Wiig, at which point it must be said the two Brits fade somewhat into the background and are dominated by their co-stars.

Indeed, the cast is broadly good – Schwartzman’s potty-mouthed agent and boss Sigourney Weaver are both magnificent bastards of the highest order, whilst Wiig entertains in a slight role whose only purpose appears to be to spout expletives and be subjected to curiously shoehorned-in atheist tirades. Less good are Bill Hader and Joe Lo Truglio as Bateman’s gratingly cretinous subordinates, and Blythe Danner seems to struggle to maintain her Midwestern accent. Nonetheless, these are more than made up for by great cameos from the likes of Jane Lynch, Jeffrey Tambor and David Koechner.

As for Paul himself, he’s admirably realised by decent CGI and both the physical and conversational interaction between him and the leads feels natural enough (in sharp contrast to, say, the Star Wars prequels, where classically-trained actors were left staring coldly – longingly, even – into the middle-distance during effects-laden scenes). He may be brash, rude and (at the risk of jingoism) resolutely American compared to the genteel leads, but Paul himself never irritates and is a funny enough character in his own right.
 
That leaves the script, which, though well written, sadly isn’t on a par with the pair’s previous outings. Lacking some of the more subtle humour and recurring motifs which made, say, Shaun of the Dead so (re)watchable, it charms but never entrances. And, more than ever, it appears to rely on pop culture references and geeky asides as a basis (or, arguably, a substitute) for humour; which means that those lucky souls who don’t know what a Boushh disguise is may feel as though they’re missing out on something they can’t quite place their finger on.
 
Paul is a film by geeks for geeks, and in that respect it is a triumph – Pegg and Frost certainly know their audience and pitch their gags accordingly. Nonetheless, one feels that without the guiding, cinematically literate hand of Wright (Greg Mottola’s direction is adequate, if comparatively clumsy) we’re left with something good rather than great in this instance.