Anonymous blog person: Being the fourth Underworld movie.
Anonymous blog person: That’s really all I have to say about it.
Anonymous blog person: Well, all right, here is the movie, in one rather long sentence: Blah blah blah, flashbacks, humans realize what tweens have said all along: vampires really truly do exist, and so do werewolves, screaming, guns, mass exterminations, blah blah blah, flash forward to twelve years and Kate Beckinsale waking up in a giant ice tube with her lipstick impeccably applied.
Oh yeah, and she has a daughter. How, exactly, do vampires–the undead–reproduce? And not only reproduce, but have daughters with perfect British accents in a gray country where American accents seem to dominate?
Of course, it is perfectly plausible that after thriving in the shadows for centuries, vampires and werewolves–excuse me, lycans–are hunted to the brink of extinction in roughly a decade. The movie never clearly explains how they were uncovered, but once they were, they were easy to spot, especially the vamps: just shoot anyone wearing black leather.
Seriously. Beckinsale wears the same American Horror Story bodysuit/Lady Gaga corset as in the other films (minus Rise of the Lycans). This makes her easy to spot. She shoplifts a gray trenchcoat (gray, gray, everything is friggin’ gray in this movie), but it doesn’t occur to her to don blue jeans and a T-shirt.
What else . . . a giant-size computer-generated werewolf isn’t nearly as cool as it sounds. At least it looked better than the one in Van Helsing.
On a hipness scale, rated in terms of vamps, of course, with Gary Oldman-Bram Stoker’s Dracula being the top, and that sparkly Twilight boy being the bottom, I’d give this a George Hamilton-Love at First Bite. Which is pretty low, but not scraping the bottom.