'ARGYLLE' WON'T BLOW YOUR SOCKS OFF

A checkered mesh of mysteries have accompanied the release of Matthew Vaughn’s “Argylle.”

There is the promoted one: Who is the “real” Agent Argylle? Then there’s all the (baseless) conjecture over whether argyle aficionado Taylor Swift had anything to do with the film. But most of all: Why two L’s? While we can finally put to rest the first two puzzles, we’re left to posit that the spelling must be to differentiate the movie for those who just want to buy a pair of socks.

The socks would be a wiser investment. “Argylle,” a $200 million production from Apple Films opening in theaters last week, is a big bet to kickstart a new spy series, presumably with iterations to follow such as “Plaidd” and “Herringbonne.”

Criss-crossing patterns of ridiculousness and self-satisfaction run through “Argylle,” a tiresome meta movie that puts an awful lot of zest into an awfully empty high-concept story.

There are all kinds of dumb movies. It can even be a good quality. “Step Brothers,” for instance, is a brilliantly dumb movie. “Argylle” knows it’s preposterous and it’s trying to have fun with that. But it’s a strained, unimaginative effort, over-reliant on twists and needle drops, that leaves “Argylle” on the bad side of dumb. The best that you can say about “Argylle” is that it comes by its dumbness genuinely.