This single mom and her two teenage daughters* move into new digs, and before long they're twat-dab in the middle of the most by-the-numbers haunted house movie I've seen in like a decade. Not that that's automatically a bad thing - the old "ghost in the mirror" and "ghost in the window" bits are classics for a reason - but in the end this flick is just too goddamned generic. Is it too much to ask that resentful, deathless evil from beyond the grave show a little imagination once in a while? When it's all been laid out to dry the secrets in the walls are a total bust compared to the real mystery in this movie, which is: Who's the dude in bed with the mom the night the music box wakes her up? She doesn't act like he shouldn't be there, but the only guy we've met that it could possibly be is her brother. If that's how it is in their family I guess it's none of my business, but the brother already has a wife, and she's hot as balls. Is he so insatiable that he has to dip into his own sister on the side? And once you cross that line, where does it end? I mean seriously, is he's screwing the daughters, too? For fuck's sake, save some for the rest of us, buddy.