Rating: 2 Pulses

Rated R

Underworld: Rise of the Lycans, prequel to two decent B-movies boasting Kate Beckinsale in a leather body suit, tells the triumphant tale of the werewolf revolt against their vampiric overlords, which, really, should just be another opportunity for two classic horror monsters to fight en masse.

This would be all well and good if ROTL didn’t so mercilessly pull the teeth out of everything that makes werewolves and vampires cool. For starters, vampires must feed?on humans. One goblet of the red stuff will not sate my bloodlust. And werewolves, well they’re like the Hulk when they wolf out, not the willful beasts seen here. And, I thought neither creature can sexually reproduce.

ROTL joylessly takes the piss out of these common conceits, turning vampires into whiny politicians and werewolves into wussy slaves, even more so than previous Underworlds. What comes out of this is a heavy-handed allegory for any oppressed vs. oppressor scenario, framing main-Lycan Lucien (reprised by Michael Sheen, father of Beckinsale’s child, mind you) as the righteous rebel-rouser.

See, some desperate floozy once shacked up with a wild werewolf and begat Lucien, the first werewolf who could take human form. As protection against the feral, wolf-only werebeasts, head vampire Viktor (Nighy) creates a race of shapeshifters from his favorite pet-thing Lucien. In a paradoxical flashback revealing that immortals, in fact, do age, were-kid Lucien and Viktor’s vamp-child Sonja (Doomsday’s enfeebled Rhona Mitra) share a bond, foreshadowing their destined affair that will forever pit vampires against Lycans, and maybe piss off the notably absent Beckinsale, who left Sheen for the director of the first Underworld during shooting.

Knowing these sordid behind-the-scenes goings-on is one of the few joys this monotone fantasy offers. Watching Michael Sheen allow himself to be filmed in the rainy, cliff-side love scene with Beckinsale’s submissive surrogate (and near double) smacks of bitter jealousy in this new light. Seeing him habitually Jesus-posing like he’s auditioning for Creed, one can almost hear the sour sentiments: “Look what you gave up!” and, “Please, Kate, come back.”

Of course, these feelings imposed upon Sheen are mere fancies, but when faced with such mundanity one must find a way to entertain oneself.