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Despite the ever-increasing size and dominance of Netflix, the streamer has continued to struggle with its most obvious aim. While viewers might flock there for smooth-brained dating shows, tawdry true crime, Harlan Coben thrillers and junky romcoms, the platform is yet to be known for creating original movie franchises, the bread and butter of most old-fashioned Hollywood studios, for better or worse.

The problem Netflix often faces is that to turn a big-budget bet into a cultural event, it requires more than a low-stakes click at home and a brief weekend’s worth of chatter. Big numbers might have met wannabe franchise-starters Red Notice and The Grey Man but a lack of real long-term interest has meant that sequels haven’t followed, while its most expensive film ever, Chris Pratt vehicle The Electric State, sank with both audiences and critics. It’s why the success of last year’s KPop Demon Hunters, a genuine all-consuming juggernaut, was such an important win, even if the film technically started its life at Sony. A sequel is, of course, coming although there always felt like something a little accidental about the first film’s transformation into pop culture phenomenon, as if no one quite knew just what they had on their hands.

Enola Holmes was another film made elsewhere – this time, at Warners – and one of the many theatrical propositions sold to a streamer during the pandemic (a similar route saw Fox’s Fear Street trilogy become, for me, the platform’s greatest film series yet). Netflix has proved to be sturdy caretakers of Enola, delivering a sequel that was arguably slightly better than the first, and the inevitable third film (the second was another unqualified smash) continues along the same route with returning names in front of and behind the camera. But the journey is already starting to grow a little tiring, more of the same providing markedly less of what worked in the first place.

What had worked was a mixture of sprightly energy, engaging-enough mystery and some admirably well-handled history and life lessons for its younger female audience. There are intermittently successful bits of all three again but not enough of any to make this one glide in quite the same way, a safely passable franchise perhaps reaching premature exhaustion. British playwright Jack Thorne returns as screenwriter, fresh off his Adolescence success, and brings that show’s director, Philip Barantini, with him, taking over from Fleabag’s Harry Bradbeer. Anyone hoping for Enola to take on the dangers of toxic masculinity or for the film to be one uninterrupted take shall remain disappointed, however, Barantini proving to be a safe yet rather anonymous pair of hands.

It’s time for Enola (Millie Bobby Brown, once again looking a bit too much like someone who uses Instagram to convince as a Victorian 20-year-old) to get married to her slightly drippy beau, Tewkesbury (Louis Partridge). But their wedding, taking place on the island of Malta, is thrown into disarray when Enola finds out her brother Sherlock (Henry Cavill in glorified cameo mode) has been kidnapped. Cue magnifying glass.

Thorne does again find a nifty way to raise interesting issues without the use of a heavy hand. The choice of Enola, a resourceful and headstrong young woman, to become someone’s wife is criticised by her older brother, who worries what such a restrictive and sexist institution will do to her while the island’s murky history and Britain’s colonial rule provide what’s essentially a YA adventure with more substance than one might expect. But neither weaves into the plot as gracefully as one would hope, rough edges sanded smooth too easily, and despite the initial allure of the location, the film feels a little too small to qualify as an escapist summer blockbuster, especially when compared with the two grander prior instalments, set pieces now kept to a cost-cutting minimum. Thorne has rightly recognised that Enola is a more distinctive character when she is solving problems over karate-chopping but the mystery is far too plodding and far too simple to ever really grab us.

The specifics of the plot require a return from both Helena Bonham Carter as Enola’s mother (doing her thing and doing it well) and Sharon Duncan-Brewster as Moriarty (doing a bit too much even for such an evil character) but once again it rests on Brown’s shoulders, which once again struggle under the weight. There’s just not enough natural, easy charm and the star, like many maturing child actors before her, can’t figure out how big or small to go with her adult reactions, making something buoyant and breezy look far too much like hard work.

Fading to credits before the 100-minute mark, it’s at least shorter than the last two films, which both pushed past two hours, but in a way that feels more down to a lack of new ideas and general enthusiasm from those involved. With its “what if BLANK goes on vacation” sequel setup, it really does feel like fusty franchise filler, as if Enola’s next caper is set to hold more weight and have that much more at stake. At this early stage, Netflix might be wise to leave her be.

• Enola Holmes 3 is available on Netflix now