The Fraternity of Weavers is a cloaked cache of characters led by a meddling mentor and ace assassin, the shadowy Sloan (Freeman). He's flanked by the appropriately named smart and sexy Fox (Jolie) and a guy who's so cool he's known only by his handle: Gunsmith (Common).

The story, loosely based on a graphic novel by Mark Millar and J.G. Jones, opens on a glum corporate drone, weak-willed Wesley (McAvoy). The poor, pale sap is nothing but a cubicle dweller by day and a wallet life-support system for a brittle bottle blonde by night. Just when he thinks he'll never catch a break, Wesley nearly catches a bullet while standing in line at the local pharmacy to pick up one of his many anti-anxiety medications.

Suddenly, an artillery-toting, blisteringly beautiful and brawny brunette swoops him from certain death, and away they go in her zooming hot rod, straight to the secret stronghold of what is known as "The Fraternity." Wesley's been recruited, and after undergoing the Assassins' arduous and painful bullet-riddled boot camp, the former chump is a champ with everything he ever wanted: cash, cachet and control.

But, of course, with great power comes great responsibility, and when Wesley starts to question the Loom's decisions on demises, his world begins to unravel most dangerously.

You know you want it, baby!

Unlike his devil-may-care counterpart in the comics, Wesley doesn't take to killing quite so quickly. And those costumed "supervillains" who've decided to band together and overtake the world? Sorry to burst your fanboy bubble, but Mr. Rictus and Johnny Two-Dicks are nowhere to be found. Still, there are several scintillating supernatural gasp-inducers, such as bullets that bend and minds that can slow time at a whim.

The Fraternity's fortress resides on a virtual playground of the imagination. There's the Loom room (or doom room, depending on which end of the barrel you're at), a magnificent library rivaling that of Alexandria (or at least the body of Stephen King's published works) and a bathhouse with magically melty warm wax pools that helpfully heal all wounds (not to mention providing a location for the baring of Jolie's bodacious buttocks in one quick but aptly adoring cut-to).

Wanted is more a Bekmambetov movie than anything. The virtuoso of style has imbued our hero with conflict, then infused him with sympathetic qualities; given the female lead asses to kick and quips to crack; and populated the world with quirky, comical characters and copious car chases. He plays with dark and light and glass shards; he twists text and finagles fonts; and, as in his Night Watch and Day Watch films, Bekmambetov shines the spotlight briefly but memorably on winged insects and vile vermin.

While your eyes turn into spinning pinwheels at all the skirmish and frenzy, hopefully your heart and mind will engage appropriately. Wesley is a spineless schmoe at first, but his evolution from wimp to warrior is as organic and believable as possible, given the circumstances. McAvoy's earnest eyes and emotionally fraught voice draw you in, as does Jolie's bravura performance as a Zen-like adrenaline junkie. Speaking volumes with very few words, the actress brings her most popping performance since Mr. & Mrs. Smith (and before that—let's face it—not since 1999's Pushing Tin and Girl, Interrupted). You might expect elder statesmen Freeman and Stamp to rest on their laurels here, but they both lend genuine movie-star gravitas to the proceedings.

The real pleasant surprise, though he's certainly no stranger to the screen, is Thomas Kretschmann as wildcard Cross, the mysterious assassin who's after Wesley every step and wheel-squeal of the way. Kretschmann has worked with great, genre-friendly directors such as Argento, Polanski and Jackson, but in Wanted, for Bekmambetov, he smolders with deep intensity, and in one profoundly revelatory scene, the actor parleys what could be contrivance into conviction.

Now, back to the eye candy. Wanted is everything it promises with extra popcorn, employing state-of-the-art CG, sleek sports cars revving to blaring rock, gore galore, vivid chases and cool comeuppances. (Oh, and did I mention Angelina Jolie bares her behind?)