IT'S been some 24 years since an American werewolf ran amok through the labyrinthine corridors of the London Underground transport system, gnawing on unsuspecting commuters.

Now the screaming and blood-letting begin in earnest once more in Creep, Christopher Smith's horror-thriller filmed partly on location at the old, abandoned Strand station on the Piccadilly line.

Slightly tipsy after too much booze at a fashion industry event, ambitious model agency booker Kate (Franka Potente) staggers off to a star-studded party in the dead of night.

George Clooney is rumoured to be making an appearance at the West End bash and Kate elects to take the Underground.

Drifting off to sleep as she waits for the last train, she wakes to find the station deserted.

A train pulls into the platform and Kate boards, slightly unnerved to be the only passenger.

Halfway through a tunnel, the train jerks to a halt and the carriage is plunged into darkness.

Lecherous male model Guy (Jeremy Sheffield), who has been making unwelcome advances all night, lurches out of the inky black and attacks Kate.

She tries to fend him off but he is too strong... until someone, or something, drags him out of the carriage and underneath the train.

Running down the track to the nearest station, Kate finds she is locked in, with seemingly no one around to help her.

Kate soon finds herself in a nightmarish fight for survival against the terrifying Creep.

Smith sets up the carnage effectively with an edge-of-seat prologue featuring a pair of sewage workers (Vas Blackwood, Ken Campbell) who discover something very nasty lurking beneath the city streets.

What begins as an unnerving psychological horror descends into unintentional comedy as Smith forsakes reality to slather on the entrails and gore.

The film company has kindly asked that I don't reveal who or what the Creep might be. Needless to say: he/she/it is neither as fearsome nor as scary as the film requires to hold our interest.

Potente is back in Run, Lola, Run mode, dashing for her life without breaking into a sweat.

The film invests little time in fleshing out her character and she delivers a similarly one-note performance as the resourceful heroine.

Supporting players are sliced-off at regular intervals in distinctly unpleasant fashions.

Smith usually telegraphs his intentions well in advance so you can hide behind your hands if you're a tad squeamish of the fake claret.

Rating 4/10