Mmm, a nervy girl with mental problems and on medication, decides on a whim, on hearing that the psychotic ex who's been stalking her has just been released from jail, that the best course of action would be to isolate herself in a huge, spooky, remote house without any transport. The premise alone is illogical enough to make most viewers put this back on the shelf.
But my excuse is that it was on Five in the afternoon and, once I'd elected to give it a go, it was too hilarious to stop watching.
The pace of the film verges on the glacial. Brittany Murphy, looking wan and pretty and rather like a ghost herself, wanders around in some sexier equivalent to pyjamas, wondering how she got herself into this nonsense. It starts to seem like nobody in the whole world ever moved so slowly. I can hear the director instructing her, 'Walk into the room slowly', then urging, 'No, Brittany, slower! Slower!' She sits in a tub and gazes mournfully off to one side. For hours.
It's another one of those films that's predicated on the notion that a previous occupant felt the necessity to video every single thing that ever happened to them and that Brittany's character, rather than finding this nauseatingly narcissistic and tediously self-absorbed, would be sufficiently intrigued to watch all this footage back.
Oh, I forgot to mention that she's a writer of some kind (people who stay in old, spooky houses generally are) and supposedly working to a deadline, not that you would know it. I think this may have been for some time in the next millennium.
If your idea of horror is a few creaky doors and some very weak light fittings, you possibly might find yourself ever so slightly unnerved for a nanosecond. Otherwise, be prepared to find this a scream for all the wrong reasons.
But my excuse is that it was on Five in the afternoon and, once I'd elected to give it a go, it was too hilarious to stop watching.
The pace of the film verges on the glacial. Brittany Murphy, looking wan and pretty and rather like a ghost herself, wanders around in some sexier equivalent to pyjamas, wondering how she got herself into this nonsense. It starts to seem like nobody in the whole world ever moved so slowly. I can hear the director instructing her, 'Walk into the room slowly', then urging, 'No, Brittany, slower! Slower!' She sits in a tub and gazes mournfully off to one side. For hours.
It's another one of those films that's predicated on the notion that a previous occupant felt the necessity to video every single thing that ever happened to them and that Brittany's character, rather than finding this nauseatingly narcissistic and tediously self-absorbed, would be sufficiently intrigued to watch all this footage back.
Oh, I forgot to mention that she's a writer of some kind (people who stay in old, spooky houses generally are) and supposedly working to a deadline, not that you would know it. I think this may have been for some time in the next millennium.
If your idea of horror is a few creaky doors and some very weak light fittings, you possibly might find yourself ever so slightly unnerved for a nanosecond. Otherwise, be prepared to find this a scream for all the wrong reasons.