Film review: Insidious

, The world may now be inclined to forgive director James Wan and screenwriter Leigh Whannell for some of their torture-porn sins. The story follows the pulse-raising plight of schoolteacher Josh (Patrick Wilson), his wife Renai (Rose Byrne) and their young children.

On first impressions, the family appears to be the victim of a straightforward case of haunted house syndrome.

However, after changing addresses - and with one of the kids, eldest son Dalton (Ty Simpkins), now in a weird coma that defies all known medical logic - the joint is still jumping with unexplained self-opening doors, self-creaking floorboards, self-playing home-entertainment systems and the like.

Josh's mum (Barbara Hershey) has an old friend in the ghost-busting business, Elise (Lin Shaye), who swings by with some geeky assistants (played by Whannell and Angus Sampson) and freaky gear (ranging from Dinky Toys viewfinders to World War I gasmasks) to snuff out the supernatural kerfuffle once and for all.

It must be said that the odd scripting clanger aside - why does Hershey's character wait so long to tell everyone she always knew her son was a magnet for surly supernatural types? - Insidious fans may take exception to fleeting glimpses of a demon who pays a marked resemblance to the infamous Darth Maul, but that just may be a red (and black) herring thrown in by the filmmakers for their amusement.

The movie ambles politely after a small collection of set-play chills, most of them depicted in a manner slyly suggestive rather than archly literal (the gore quota extends only to a blood-stained hand print on a white sheet).

In short, Insidious is happy enough with elevating your breathing pattern every now and then, as opposed to choking you outright with one shock after another.

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