Sands is the evil witch who escapes a fiery fate by leaping 300 years forward, only to find his nemesis, witch-hunter Grant, has followed him to modern-day America. The villain seeks three pieces of a grimoire that would wipe out existence (including the bad guy, presumably - oh, well, never mind...) and so, at the risk of stating the bleedin' obvious, He Must Be Stopped. Singer is the modern girl who helps Grant adapt to the 20th century, though he seems pretty unfazed by most aspects, at least until he gets on a plane [Nostalgia fans: this one goes back to an idyllic time when you could smoke on-board, and "acceptable hand-luggage" inclided large, pointy metal objects such as weathervanes].
This film, however, belongs to Sands and Grant, who are excellent, both stopping just this side of honeybaked ham, with extra cheese - hard to say who is more loony, but it's the treatment the material not only deserves, but demands. For, being honest, David Twohy's plot has more unexplained holes in it than Michael Jackson's face, but there is still an awful lot to enjoy here, not least the neo-Amish supporting good guy, the one person with whom Grant's character can connect. It's educational too: you can cripple a warlock by nailing his footprints with iron spikes, a handy tip for witchfinder wannabes. A fine counterpoint to lovey-dovey Wiccans everywhere.