As I walked into the theatre, I didn’t expect much. Maybe 90 minutes of a campy horror film that builds suspense here and there, paints a few violently bloody deaths, and finishes with the possibility of another film. It’s the same thing I’d expect from a WWE pay-per-view or a modern day “Godzilla versus Janet Reno” flick. Sadly, “Alien versus Predator” failed to deliver on even these most basic horror film requirements.

Instead of creating suspense around humans trapped in an ancient pyramid 2000 feet under Antartica amidst a war between Predators and Aliens, Director Paul W.S. Anderson and studio execs delivered a buddy movie. Seriously. There was even a moment when I expected to see a slow-motion, hand-holding shot. Plus, Anderson and his cronies sliced and diced so much that the virtually blood-free, PG-13-rated horror film (yes, that is an oxymoron) offered only one or two clear, quick-cut shots of dimly lit Predator on Alien smackdown.

There’s none of the suspense from “Alien,” nor any of the survival against-the-odds thrills from “Predator.” And there aren’t nearly enough Predator on Alien, jumbo-sized cans of open whup ass. This should’ve had the epic feeling of Jet Li taking on Bruce Lee. Instead, it seemed a bit like Michael Jackson fighting Boy George for an eyebrow pencil. Sure, there was some decent make-up, but I’d much rather spend the afternoon setting myself on fire.

One and one-half Llamas (out of four).