For all its faults Hellraiser at least had a solid, dramatic idea underpinning the transatlantic vivisection. Director Tony Randel's Hellbound: Hellraiser II doesn't even bother. The film begins well enough - Clare Higgns' Julia is dragged out of the underworld by Kenneth Cranham's Dr Channard, a lobotomist who is sexually excited by flayed bodies. Early scenes of the Julia drifting around Channard's house, smearing bloody hand-prints over his all-white interiors is at least visually interesting. Julia and Channard make for an intriguing couple too. Channard's an Aleister Crowley fan who uses his position at a psychiatric hospital to requisition police evidence and stage satanic ceremonies. Julia, hardly pliant arm-candy, actually seems to be working directly for the geometric shape that twists and turns at the centre of this film's rendition of hell. Neither of these villains gets very much to do beyond that though. Julia is stuck glowering at the dreary heroines, boasting about her new role in this augmented cosmology as a wicked witch. Channard (eventually) gets a Cenobite makeover, falling apart at a crucial moment for no particular reason. This is Hellbound's problem, characters and actions aren't tracking towards organic conclusions, they're simply grist for risible splatter effects.
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