Insidious
An absurd, poorly acted film that will still make you shriek like a little girl, despite your better instincts.

After attending a screening for Insidious, a friend happened to ask me what I’d been up to; I explained that I’d just watched a haunted house horror, and offered the humble opinion that it lacked originality. He considered this, and then asked – “Was it about a middle class nuclear family?” Yes. “Whose child gets possessed by evil spirits?” Yes. So far, so movie poster. “Did the soundtrack involve creepy violins?” Why, yes it did. “Did some kind of occult healer visit the house, and start in fear at the terrible psychic energy?” Of course. “Was there some kind of demon involved?” Indeed. “And a twist?” …Yep. My friend clearly knows his horror film tropes. But he gives the makers of Insidious (headed up by James Wan of Saw fame) too much credit by stopping there; things get far more derivative than that.

If the Paranormal Activity-esque demon takes on the main haunting duties, it is ably supported by a collection of vaguely Victorian spectres – lace-clad old crones, laughing street urchins, and even a pair of eerie identical twins. I won’t reveal their gender to you, in case you haven’t seen The Shining, the photography of Diane Arbus, and The League of Gentlemen, amongst other tried and tested depictions of the same. Fans of Ringu/The Ring will recognize the allusion to celluloid hauntings, and ghost film lovers everywhere will feel the slow ache of familiarity as our married couple Renai (Rose Byrne) and Josh (Patrick Wilson) bicker about the plausibility of their house being haunted, in unusually leaden dialogue. Despite these clunks of unoriginality, the tension does slowly build over the initial half hour, and then the jump-scares begin.

Though unsophisticated, jump-scares do what they set out to do, i.e. have you clutching pathetically at the sleeve of your cinema-buddy usually whilst kicking yourself for being taken by surprise, Insidious makes good use of the tactic and the result is an absurd, poorly acted film that will still make you shriek like a little girl, despite your better instincts. It’s an entertaining mix, in a way – you can spend two thirds of your time laughing at Renai’s rubbish singing career sub-plot, or the baroque outfit donned by the ghosthunter (Lin Shaye), or the breathless references to ‘The Further’, and the rest of your time jumping at the sudden reveals.

Sometimes, one drinks alcohol to enjoy the complex and rewarding flavours of finely crafted wines. At other times, a few 68p tinnies of super-strength lager from the cornershop is all that is really required for a top-notch evening. Some people can find joy in each of these two extremes; others prefer to stick to their one preferred method. And so it goes with scary movies. Some people want a nothing more than a simple fright, others like a spot of horror-film boffinry, and a pernickity few would just like a quality film that has a coherent story populated by interesting characters. Only the latter group will be disappointed by Insidious; the two former demographics will find it diverting enough for a laugh.

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