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."