Resident Evil: Afterlife

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Not much has changed over the course of the previous three films except the setting. It was the Nevada Desert last time out, now it's a building in Los Angeles, as Milla Jovovich's Alice is still kicking all sorts of ass, but is human again after a run in with one of those nasty corporate types who insists on wearing sunglasses and talking like the guy who narrates over-dramatic trailers. Hooking up with Ali Larter's Clare, they attempt to find promised safe-haven, Arcadia, which was initially Alaska, but now seems to be a boat.

Borrowing liberally from far superior zombie flicks seems to the norm with not just this franchise, but the sub-genre in general. It's Dawn of the Dead this time, but Anderson stages it in shinier, more abrasive packaging and hopes the audience won't notice the scripts utter absurdness. To be fair, most of the targeted audience won't; this is a series of films that has been pushed on young teenage males, and they'll turn up in their droves to support it just like they did with the equally slapdash Underworld films.

On the plus side, some of the 3D works quite well, and Anderson manages to string together a couple of mildly impressive action sequences. His missus, Jovovich, is comfortable enough in Alice's shoes now to offer a passable performance, but Larter outshines her at every turn. By every turn I mean the countless shots of one of them running whilst inexplicably wet in slow motion. Larter is better at it.

Its core audience will eat this up in all its excessive, loud glory, but this is still an empty shell of a movie, that has just had more money pumped into it than the other shoddy sequels.