Strange, the power of a name. This restaurant presents itself as "Marco Pierre White Wheeler's of St James's Est 1856. The world's oldest and finest fish brand". Yet it only opened last month.

For most of the last century, Wheeler's was a chain of fish restaurants offering smoked salmon or oysters, a grilled Dover sole, say, with a choice of sauces, accompanied by a bottle of Chablis, for a fair enough price. Before it expired, the brand was owned by many big food corps and went downhill.

Marco Pierre White first tried to revive Wheeler's at the Duke of York Street branch in 2002. That closed after three years and the name has been on the shelf since, although he has continued to own it.

Now the old warhorse is being wheeled out again. The large, gloomy premises never were a Wheeler's before but they did house another fish restaurant - Prunier's, est 1935. Since 2005, it's been Luciano, a pricey Italian place named after Pierre White's son.

Marco's plan, hatched with his business partner Rocco Forte, is to open more branches in London perhaps, and in the countryside too, not to mention daft central, aka Dubai. To validate the name for this roll-out, there has to be a Wheeler's in St James's again. So here we are.

The restaurant claims to have undergone a "stunning makeover". It's not apparent. The best area to eat is evidently in the bright, initial bar area where there are some appealing booths but, though they were empty, we were steered into the slightly sinister room at the back, with such peculiarly dim lighting that you feel as though you've landed in a David Lynch scenario that's bound to end badly.

The menu is British, short, understated and eye-wateringly expensive. Six Colchester natives are £19.50, langoustine cocktail £16.50, grilled Dover sole £30, the starter Chablis £42 a bottle, the most basic Meursault £69. Add 12.5 per cent service and you have a bill that would cover a weekend away.

We began with panache of sea scallops, black pudding (£15.50) and a saffron fish soup (£9.50).

The scallops came served in two shells, each bearing four fat discs of the white meat only of the scallops, interleaved with three discs of dense, mealy black pudding, on a bed of apple puree. It was plain, serviceable, a big portion, unexciting.

The soup could have been from a jar, delivering no intense flavour either of saffron or fish, served with croutons, cheese and an aļoli that had no garlic tang.

Wheeler's classic fish pie (£15.50) was again huge, its smoothly corrugated surface of mash looking a bit much even before it had been broached.

Inside, there was a white creamy sauce containing baby leeks, as well as eggs, prawns and fish. Again, not bad but too much to finish, and nothing like as good as the pie at J Sheekey (£13.50).

Fish and chips (£14.50) was decent enough, a big piece of haddock crisply fried in batter, with floury mushy peas and a stack of triple-fried chips served upright in a separate pot. All a bit upmarket Little Chef. We didn't fancy "English puddings" - sticky toffee, roly-poly, bread and butter, and the rest.

As we left, we realised why we hadn't been invited to sit in one of those booths. Enthroned there was Marco himself, holding forth to a pretty girl with bare arms and her hair piled up on top of her head.

You'd say Wheeler's is doomed all over again but the place was busy, full of Americans telling each other what a fine tradition it was. As I wrote this review, Marco was on the phone to talk about his plans for Wheeler's, including a promising idea of delivering two courses for £15 in that bar area.

Unless you've put a stake through it, never assume a brand is dead. Just look at the reborn Chicago Rib Shack. Wheeler's might yet make it out of St James's.