Three-and-a-half stars. After dozens of quirky roles in arthouse and low-budget films, who could have known that, deep down, indie queen Parker Posey just wanted to sport fangs and tear up the screen as a bad-ass vampire villainess?

She’s one of many guilty pleasures in the crisply directed "Blade: Trinity," the third (and they claim final, but don’t hold your breath) installment in New Line Cinema’s muscular vampire-stalking series, adapted ever more loosely from the long-dormant Marvel Comics character.

Wesley Snipes may not have sold enough tickets as a serious actor or even a mainstream action hero - and more’s the pity - but he certainly cuts a mean swath as the vampire-hunting title character in this revved-up horror franchise. Eschewing the philosophical moodiness of director Guillermo del Toro’s sophomore outing, "Blade: Trinity" returns to the kick-boxing, sword-slicing, blood, guts and gore that fans have come to expect of the genre in this post-Buffy era.

Not to mention the truly tiresome profanity, overused ad nauseum, and the soundtrack’s shrieking blend of rap, hip-hop and thrash rock. But those elements are all part of the fun for the Goth contingent that buys so many tickets, so we cannot blame New Line for delivering what sells.

I can’t help feeling sorry for Christopher Lee’s Dracula, back in all those classic Hammer Films entries, which must seem woefully anemic these days. (At the same time, nobody - then or now - could out-stare Lee’s undead Count, so maybe he’d still be able to hold his own.)

After a mysterious prologue involving some long-dormant, uber-evil whatzis discovered in the desert, the film opens with Blade still fighting the good fight, as he sterilizes a vampire hangout in his own inimitable fashion. Writer David S. Goyer - also promoted to director, after having scripted all three "Blade" films - and editors Kirk Moses, Conrad Smart and Howard E. Smith get off to an impressive start with this extended action sequence, which involves motorcycles, cars, trucks and Blade’s truly clever weaponry.

But it all goes sour when Blade’s final target fails to explode into a pile of ash, as silver-staked vampires are wont to do; it turns out that Blade has just iced a human, and the kill has been caught on videotape for immediate release to the media. Having smartened up after years of dealing with their arch-nemesis, the clandestine vampire union has embarked on a smear campaign. The bad publicity allows some long-pursuing FBI agents to catch and imprison Blade, much to the weary sorrow of our hero’s mentor, Abraham Whistler (Kris Kristofferson).

That’s a clever way to start this story; too bad Goyer doesn’t follow through. Because once Danica Talos (Posey) and her fanged minions get involved, the whole media blitz issue ceases to resonate. (I also could point out that for one who supposedly eschews unnecessarily taking human lives, Blade slices ’n’ dices an awful lot of stray FBI agents and SWAT cops simply doing their jobs, but I guess we’re not supposed to sweat such small stuff.)

It turns out that Danica and her crew released the one, true, original, blah-blah-blah vampire during that desert prologue - call him the actual Dracula, although here he prefers Drake (Dominic Purcell) - and they’re hoping to use his untainted blood to make themselves able to walk about in daylight, the better to hunt unsuspecting human prey. Blade, meanwhile, hooks up with what Buffy would have called a new "Scooby gang": a buncha rag-tag vampire hunters calling themselves Nightstalkers (cute), led by wise-cracking Hannibal King (Ryan Reynolds) and Abraham’s never-before-discussed daughter, Abigail (Jessica Biel).

One of the other Nightstalkers, a blind medical chemist named Sommerfield (Natasha Lyonne, another indie actress having a lark), is on the verge of developing a genetic disease that could forever end the entire vampire race. Only catch is, her bubbling green glop must be, ah, spiked by Drake’s blood, in order to maximize its efficacy.

Geez, it seems everybody needs that nasty fellow’s blood!

Because this film quickly would become stale if it relied entirely on its many muscular skirmishes between good and evil - although, in fairness, all the battle scenes are cleverly choreographed - these many encounters are punctuated by glib one-liners and plenty of ’tude.

Biel, obviously having wanted to unleash her inner naughty girl after spending years as an insufferable goodie-goodie on television’s "Seventh Heaven," looks suitably menacing as a belly-shirted, bow-wielding stalker who rips herself a fresh playlist of iPod tunes each time she goes into battle.

Reynolds rather overdoes the smart mouth and wisecracks, but his "Van Wilder" fans probably expect as much, and he’s good for comic relief ... and he also compensates for Purcell’s utter inability to act a lick. Clearly, this Big Bad was hired for his muscular looks alone.

Posey’s a hoot, decked out in pale makeup and white contact lenses, and sporting one hilariously garish hairstyle and set of threads after another. She also bites off Goyer’s sassy speeches with gusto, savoring each purple-prosed threat with the enthusiasm these vamps usually save for an exposed neck.

Former WCW wrestler Triple H (Paul Michael Levesque, aka "Terra Ryzing") is quite memorable as Jarko Grimwood, Danica’s thuggish henchman, and Haili Page makes a good kid-in-distress as Sommerfield’s plucky young daughter, Zoe.

Supporting characters aside, though, this remains Snipes’ show; his tat-covered Blade is even badder than before. The performance has become more world-weary, but that’s part of the appeal; mankind’s apocalyptic saviors must ever remain loners.

And this film’s bloody finale notwithstanding, I’ve a feeling Blade will be back.

Rated R for violence, gore and relentless profanity