SCREAM 3

Directed by Wes Craven. Starring Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox, David Arquette, Jenny McCarthy, Parker Posey

THE ORIGINAL was, of course, an absolute joy and a thing of wonder, but its impact might have been even greater if they hadn't insisted on following it up with two sequels. Scream 3 is where Wes Craven finally runs out of ideas, the novelty of the series' self-referential approach having worn thin in the extreme. It's a mercy to report that this will be the last outing. Kevin Williamson's absence is conspicuous throughout - the script was penned by jobsworth hack Ehren Kruger - and there's simply none of the magic or mischief that made the first instalment such a blast of fresh air.

Repeating Scream 2's movie-within-a-movie format, this outing sees a host of actors running around idiotically on the set of a movie entitled Stab 3 - the setting has shifted from Woodsboro to Hollywood, where the actors on Stab 3's set are being bumped off in the exact same order as is written in its script. No-one is far-sighted enough to call the project off, and events proceed to unfold in strictly who's-next-for-the-chop fashion: indeed, the best way of keeping the attention focused is to take bets among your mates.

Meathead-mag cover-girl Jenny McCarthy demonstrates a shocking absence of acting talent, before being mercifully dispatched around the half-way mark - while the survivors from instalment one look thoroughly tired of the whole affair. Neve Campbell behaves entirely as if she's fulfilling contactual obligations, while Courteney Cox isn't cynical enough to take the money and run - she tries to do it justice, and merely ends up making things worse.

The slasher sequences themselves manage to raise the blood pressure in a can't-help-jumping kind of way, and the plotting is efficient enough by the rules of the genre - but Agatha Christie, it's not.

Let the series rest - it's given us fun, frolics and Neve Campbell, which is more than enough to ensure its immortality. Time for a decent burial.