Last Sunday I happened to catch the original The Planet Of The Apes on television.

I was reminded that, back in 1968, the appearance of actors made up as apes (through latex) would have seemed ludicrous; equally, what saves it is commitment - everyone concerned played it dead straight - and the seriousness of the themes, the idea that man's folly could lead to a reversal of the evolutionary food chain. The dystopian punchline remains quite shocking.

None of the subsequent Apes films packed the same punch, until Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes in 2011. Reworking the scenario by which apes come to take over the planet, here was a science fiction film that combined the same seriousness of intent as the original, with contemporary special effects that allowed us to suspend disbelief at the scenario. This second film in the reboot sees both storytelling and technology move to another level again, to tremendous effect.

In Rise, a scientist's attempt to find a cure for Alzheimer's led to a virus that boosted the intelligence of his test apes, but became deadly to humans. Ten years later, the falsely named "simian flu" has put an end to human civilisation. In contrast, the apes, still led by Caesar (Andy Serkis), have started a peaceful community of their own, in the forest, founded on the motto that "ape does not kill ape" - attempting to learn at least one lesson from man.

Serkis's Caesar is a noble fellow, with an awesome air of authority, a warrior-king and loving family man. Sadly the idyll he has created is disrupted by a group of human survivors in nearby San Francisco. Led by ex-military man Dreyfus (Gary Oldman), the humans are desperately in need of power to keep their ragtag society together. A dam in the forest is their last resort. The reunion of human and ape doesn't go well.

Caesar and sympathetic human Malcolm (Jason Clarke) struggle to maintain peace, with obstacles on each side: one of the script's most telling moments involves Caesar's admission of "how much like them we are"; and there is a certain poignancy when Dreyfus's desire to do the right thing by his dependents is undermined by limited imagination. Alongside this evolutionary war, the well-honed script also involves themes concerning fathers and sons, vengeance and conciliation, while charting the growing trust and friendship between Caesar and Malcolm.

Visually, the computer-generated effects, whether we're watching apes in reflective conversation, taking part in a massive deer hunt or in a full-scale attack on the human settlement, feel real.

As ever, Andy Serkis stands on the cusp of human creativity and technology. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: it's time that Serkis won an Oscar. His Gollum was an astonishing performance - not despite motion capture, or because of it, but in and of itself. Caesar may not have the same memorable malevolence, but is every bit as complex - at turns dignified, sensitive, formidable and ferocious.

Think of this as Serkis's Maximus - the Gladiator role in which Russell Crowe turned character acting into blockbuster heroism. Serkis winning an Oscar would mark both the work and the way that cinema continually reinvents itself.