First of all, I’m going to pre-nominate Elizabeth Olson’s tank top for ‘Least Supporting Actor in a Low-budget Horror Film’. The Least Supporting category is usually hotly contested, what with horror films being mostly about hot teenagers making terrible choices. This performance is special, however. I’m pretty sure the tank in question was so derelict in its duties that I saw some underboob, from the neckhole. That is some next-level, NASA-type tank toppery. I’m still not sure how it happened.

There is almost no premise to this film, at least for the first 30 minutes. For that time it’s just a skinny girl with lemur eyes getting scared of noises, screaming and heaving her modest but omnipresent bosom. She’s cleaning out the house she grew up in, with the help of her dad and her uncle. they keep leaving her alone, and she keeps having panic attacks. The score is minimal and the claustrophobia induced by listening to her ragged breathing and watching her drop lanterns and whatnot is pretty effective.

Then the plot kicks in. And it’s stupid. Like, ‘Raising Cain’ stupid. (If you liked that movie, don’t tell me. I feel like I’d be forced to unfriend you on general principles.) I won’t spoil it, but I promise if you’ll see the twist long before the director wants you to.

‘Psychological’ thrillers don’t work if they proceed from the sophistication of the average Lifetime movie. Twist movies don’t work if the twist is both easy to spot and unsatisfying. This movie doesn’t work because its underpinnings are ludicrous, and therefore boring.

Spare yourself.