There are few universal entertainment bets in life, but watching werewolves duke it out with vampires ought to be darn near a sure thing. Strange then, isn’t it, that 2003’s Underworld felt like such a derivative dud, slogging humorlessly through what should have been geek dream turf. It made a mint, yeah, but can you find anyone who really liked it?

Underworld Evolution, the inevitable sequel, comes off as a slight improvement over the original, if only because the stake lodged up its hindquarters seems to measure a few millimeters smaller. Still, even a few flashes of goth self-awareness (to say nothing of the arresting sight of Kate Beckinsale in black PVC) can’t excuse returning director Len Wiseman’s needlessly convoluted, one-note delivery. Minus any distinguishable personality, all Underworld Evolution has to offer is hairy folks in tight vinyl, squeaking and vogueing through the outskirts of Prague. Only those who habitually spell vampire with a y need apply.

Picking up immediately from the first installment, the flashback-heavy script follows Freon-veined Vamp assassin Beckinsale and her prophesied allegiance to newbie bat-wolf hybrid Scott Speedman. As the groovy-ghouly duo gets increasingly romantic, they discover a trail leading to the genesis of the vampire race, or something. Unfortunately, the increasingly incomprehensible aspects of the plot are amplified at every step by the uniformly dour performances of the cast (why legendary cured ham Derek Jacobi chose to underplay here, of all places, is a genuine cosmic mystery). Even the copious action scenes fail to really register, despite what must have been an astronomical squib budget.

Of course, these days sometimes a genre flick only needs the smallest spark of invention to justify a matinee. With that in mind, I have to tip my 40 to the film’s sole innovation, namely the final act’s honestly brain-croggling sight of vampires in scuba gear. Pair these dudes up with, say, a mummy ski team, and you’re talking a franchise worth supporting.