Make this another name to add to that ever-growing notebook of failed manga adaptations.

Having effectively sewn up the television streaming market, there will surely come a time when the film side of Netflix will have to step up and be counted. Free of advertising and living outside the traditional network bubble, Netflix’s unique model has afforded freedom and flexibility to filmmakers on a level few can match.

The result has been a largely successful and creatively progressive slate of programming but, for all their progress on the television side, something just hasn’t clicked film-wise. While their feature film output has certainly shown moments of promise, I’m sure Netflix would be the first to admit that things haven’t been quite as smooth as expected.

With such freedom afforded to filmmakers outside of a traditional production and distribution setting, there lies great potential with Netflix’s film arm to deliver stories that Hollywood wouldn’t touch, yet something just hasn’t felt right. Based on the acclaimed Japanese manga series of the same name, Death Note represents just such an opportunity, and the perfect chance for Netflix to throw a fist up and show Hollywood how it’s done.

Hollywood’s ongoing troubles with adapting the worlds of manga and anime have been stuff of legend and, with the stink of the rotten Ghost in the Shell still lingering in their nostrils, that unease is unlikely to disappear any time soon. All this leaves the door wide open for Netflix to do Death Note justice but, for all their good intentions, the result is yet another tragic waste of potential.

Stumbling across a mystical notebook referred to only as Death Note, brilliant but bored student Light Turner (Nat Wolff) soon discovers that it holds the power to kill anyone its owner desires. Under the mischievous influence of death god, Ryuk (Willem Dafoe), and intoxicated by his new, godlike abilities; Light begins waging a covert, one-man crusade to rid the world of evil once and for all. Under the pseudonym Kira, the student-turned-vigilante declares himself a law unto himself but, as his plans for a better world spiral out of control, he’s drawn into a deadly game of cat and mouse with the reclusive detective, L (Lakeith Stanfield), and must find a way to untangle things before it’s too late.

When Netflix announced that they’d be adapting Death Note as a live-action feature, there were more than a few eyebrows raised among the fan base. Years of let-downs and broken promises had instilled an air skepticism towards any such project but, at the very least, this was something altogether new and, as such, there was clear potential to break the cycle.

Given a little care and attention, Netflix had the capacity to offer something truly unique but, in the cold light of day, what fans have been offered is an adaptation so poorly conceived and limply executed that it achieves nothing but to reinforce the idea that Hollywood – or any other western film studio, for that matter – should stay well away from any form of manga or anime adaptation for the sake of both their reputation, and everyone else’s sanity.

With Ghost in the Shell’s whitewashing controversy still ringing in people’s ears, all eyes were on Death Note to write those wrongs by showing a little guts and some respect to the source material. The fact that they’ve not only fallen into the same trap as Ghost in the Shell by switching the protagonist’s ethnicity, but have doubled-down and moved location wholesale from Japan to the US, will be gutting for every fan out there. Such a drastic and fundamental change feels all the more startling, considering the creative progression Netflix appear to represent and, ultimately, it’s a decision that lays bare just how deep the problems go within the western film industry.

Not only does the American relocation and largely white cast feel, at best, culturally inappropriate, but it leaves Death Note feeling incredibly dull. While the old location switcheroo is nothing new in Hollywood, the success of such a change-up is largely dependent on the thought put into it and the attention paid to any potential cultural sensitivity; however, everything about Death Note feels clumsy, uninspired, and devoid of personality. Little thought has been given to honouring the original and, while it momentarily shows promise, the film repeatedly fails to follow through with it.

Holding a deep-seated place in the country’s culture, manga is such an unequivocally Japanese medium, that any proposed film adaptation will be left with precious little room to hide. So intertwined with its country of origin, manga and its dedicated fan base demand nothing but total and utter adoration of the source material in order to succeed. Not only does this leave Death Note’s decision to up sticks from Japan all the more curious but, in director Adam Wingard’s decision to play hard and fast with the original’s plot, a fundamental flaw in the film’s foundations has been left exposed.

Things are off to a solid enough start with an intriguing and quintessentially manga set up, yet things rapidly nosedive from there, as Death Note appears hell bent on squandering anything remotely unique about the original’s premise. The film wastes little time introducing all the important elements, before promptly tossing all the fun and complexity of the original story aside; to be replaced them with a limp plot that reduces everything down to a rather lifeless and irritating teen melodrama.

While there’s some clear talent to be found amidst the young cast, they do little to inject much charm into proceedings and, ultimately, it leaves Death Note with scant hope of escaping the charisma vacuum it’s created for itself. As the lead, there’s an awful lot of pressure on Nat Wolff’s shoulders to carry the film, but his discernible lack of presence, combined with some rather shoddy writing, mean that his character struggled to charm.

Light’s moral ambiguity is a rather tricky tightrope to walk and, like many other vigilante protagonists in cinema history, the character’s ultimate appeal lies in our proclivity to feel empathy towards him. Unfortunately, Light is pretty damn repugnant and neither he, nor his sociopathic sidekick/girlfriend Mia (Margaret Qualley), offer much room for empathy, as the film fights a losing battle to convince us that these two obnoxious characters are worth our sympathy.

In a small saving grace, Willem Dafoe turns in a typically menacing and malevolently off-kilter performance as Ryuk, the Shinigami. Although hidden behind a layers of CGI, Dafoe’s trademark grin and barely contained malevolence inject a welcome sparkle to an otherwise drab affair. As, far and away, Death Note’s strongest visual flourish, Ryuk’s character design feels pitch perfect; injecting some desperately needed stylisation into the banality. While only providing Ryuk’s voice and facial mo-cap, Dafoe’s magnetism single-handedly elevates his few scenes out of the doldrums and feels as close to the original’s eccentricities as we ever get.

Death Note’s central concept is an inherently fascinating one, posing genuinely thought-provoking questions on the nature of murder, accountability, and vigilantism; but blows it all on a poorly executed and criminally rushed plot that appears less interested in exploring the complexities of these themes and more with becoming an overcooked Bonnie and Clyde knockoff.

While the entire film revolves around the concept of killing, there’s precious little time spent on exploring the ideas raised in any particular depth and, as a consequence, Death Note’s message feels muddled and half-baked. At best, Death Note’s handling of murder appears confused and, at worst, it’s stance feels highly irresponsible. With supposedly sympathetic characters making reprehensible decisions without a second thought and, as characters are executed left, right, and centre with little weight or consequence; it adds up to a tiresome and rather nauseating experience.

Ultimately, you have to wonder who on Earth this Death Note adaptation is aimed at. On a conceptual level, you can see what Netflix and Adam Wingard were aiming for, but the execution badly misses the mark. Left floundering with a bland, wishy-washy script and a woeful lack of charisma; Death Note inherits little of the original’s style and intricacy, while it struggles badly to find a voice of its own.

Much will be made of the film’s foolhardy level of whitewashing and, in all honesty, rightly so. The decision to uproot from Japan to the US feels like a kick in the teeth to anyone with an affinity for the original and it’s a decision made all the more disappointing considering the leftfield thinking Netflix prides itself on. As controversial as these decisions are, however, they shouldn’t distract from Death Note’s true fundamental flaw - it’s just a poorly put together film, lacking both the bravery and conviction necessary to pull off an adaptation on this scale. So, if there’s any chance we can all agree to stick down Hollywood manga adaptations next in the Death Note, that would be awesome.