A bloody, mostly boring slasher flick, Creep sees a party-seeking singleton (Franka Potente) fall asleep in a London Underground tube station and wake up hunted by something more ghastly than Ken Livingstone. Exploiting the tunnels and dark holes of the Tube is a fine idea (see Mimic), but there's little, if anything, original about the running, screaming and stupidity shown here. Hardcore horror fans might wring some enjoyment from the action, but if you want real Friday night frights look elsewhere.

The press notes that accompany Creep request that the identity of the killer is kept secret in reviews - which is bizarre given there is only the slightest element of whodunit before a totally unsurprising villain arrives. And, with apologies to writer/director Chris Smith, we have to talk about the killer as it's crucial to why Creep does not work. So, look away now if you don't want to know: he's a pathetic, pale-skinned genetic cock-up who screeches, stabs, and talks, it seems, the language of rats. And he's about as scary as Mickey Mouse.

"THERE JUST ISN'T ANY TENSION"

Even before he appears, though, there isn't any tension - perhaps because Potente's character is so unlikable, her performance so surprisingly bad, and the first victim so obnoxious. The only people you care about (a homeless couple) arrive too late to make a difference, while Vaz Blackwood, as an unfortunate sewage worker, is stuck with a cowardly character whose banal dialogue will be echoed by the audience when he screams, "I can't take this **** no more."