If you've ever got a significant chunk of your life you feel like just throwing away, I recommend watching complete horror franchises.
There's no better way to understand how the minds of moviemakers work (or fail to) than to watch a successful movie like Nightmare on Elm Street get completely plowed under by the loony nonsense of Nightmare on Elm Street 2. Were they wrong to replace a winning, original concept that banked tens of millions of dollars in favor of a fake-mythology-heavy, cruddy-actor-having sequel that can only make sense to people who've recently poured a full bottle of Drano down one ear? Only time will tell, and time says it sucks.
From there, the direction a franchise goes says a lot about its handlers' motivations for continuing on (other than the part where they get the sacks with the dollar signs on the side). Does the movie's particular universe need more exploration? Is it time to shake things up by having the dead guy be dead for reals, only to be replaced by a copycat--or an undead, even more unstoppable killer? With Underworld: Rise of the Lycans, apparently there was a pressing need to inject some Shakespearean tragedy into its timeless tale of the centuries-long struggle between bloodthirsty werewolves and gun-toting vampires.
In the vaguely medieval past, vampires live in uneasy safety behind high walls, besieged by brutish werewolves. Bill Nighy rules the vampire council, but even he is pressured when their human noble subjects complain of being overrun.
The werewolf problem is so bad that when Rhona Mitra, Nighy's daughter, goes to meet the nobles, she's assaulted in the woods. Her secret lover Michael Sheen--a slave werewolf--throws off his shackles to save her.
Upon discovering Sheen's freed himself, a wrathful Nighy orders him lashed and imprisoned. This lesson clearly teaches Sheen nothing, as he quickly incites a slave rebellion and is sentenced to death, prompting Mitra to risk her life to save him.
Rise of the Lycans is the Underworld prequel we were all demanding to see. At last the big questions are answered: Where did the werewolves come from? (Answer: Uhh, somewhere.) Why are they at war with the vampires? (Because, like all dogs everywhere, they hold really long grudges.) And is there nothing Bill Nighy can't improve? (Not that I'm aware of, but that may change if and when Mitra accepts my private dinner invitation. Seriously Rhona, I can make kung pao.)
What's the word for when a movie cycles from A to B to C without showing any signs of inspiration or originality? Rote? Perfunctory? Lifeless? Mechanical? Choose one or several and you've got Rise of the Lycans' dooming flaw.
Nighy throws a little personality into the script, but considering the material he's working with is the thespiatic equivalent of the gunk at the bottom of the leaf pile--slugs and more leaves, mostly--he can only goose it so far. Danny McBride's authored all three Underworlds, which is good for continuity and not so good for making it any more entertaining than the mediocre first two.
And you know what, the first one may have ripped off The Matrix so much it had an actual slow-mo shooting-up-the-pillars scene, but at least it felt inspired by something. Rise of the Lycans fails to deliver even the basic epic violence and hoot-worthy gore you can usually depend on in otherwise worthless action movies. That is like baking a cake with no frosting, and also the cake is made out of damp flour. It is unreasonable. I jeer at it, then turn on the scene from Invasion USA where Rutger Hauer's foot is blown out a window by a bazooka.
But other than the fact it's no fun at all, Rise of the Lycans isn't especially bad. The dialogue's bleh, but not awful; the plotting's mechanical, but makes sense; the characters are...well, they're there. How I wish it had all been worse! Then it might have been worth seeing.
Grade: C-