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In space, as regular movie-watchers will be well aware, no-one can hear you scream. On Earth, people can hear you scream, but there's not much they can do if a horny, homicidal alien is slicing up your small intestines.
To recap - the original: witless boffins mix alien and human DNA, the result of which looks like Natasha Henstridge with not many clothes on, and goes around, erm, spending the evening with a variety of all too willing men, who'll get the rough end of a spiny tongue if any genetic defects are detected.
The sequel: astronaut poster-boy and Senator's son Justin Lazard brings back something nasty from Mars, and the planet's only hope rests with doughty ex-Marine Michael Madsen and a duplicate Natasha alien, who's been bred for lab tests but is once again experiencing loin-stirring sensations.
Sex and splatter sci-fi packs a similar nudity and blood quotient as last time (although Henstridge remains mostly cooped up), but unfortunately it's forgotten the one crucial ingredient that made the original worth viewing: fun. So no hamming actors, no amusing script, no real point in bothering.