Ouija: Origin of Evil

Struggling to make ends meet since the death of her husband Alice (Reaser, Twilight) holds séances in her house, convincing her bereaved customers that she's on the level. But she's a charlatan – the candles that are eerily blown out and the table that rocks so dramatically when she contacts the dead are down to her daughters - nine-year-old Doris (Lulu) and teenager Paulina (Basso) - hidden in desks and behind curtains. When Paulina convinces mum to introduce an Ouija board to the scam Lulu becomes a conduit for spirits, and in particular her father…

This prequel to the 2014 horror sets out to charm with its retro vibe – the old Universal logo, the sixties LA setting, the cigarette burns in the corner of the screen – and the (unfortunately) now archaic approach to bide its time and allow the audience to get to know the characters before unleashing the spooks. Everything is deliberately undercooked too: the Ouija board isn't found at midnight on a dusty top shelf in a dark alley shop run by an old man with a glass eye, gnarled fingers and a long, pointy white beard – it's picked up on a sunny day in a convenience store where customers mill about eating ice cream. And it's one of many on sale. Oh, and there seems to be something about the lack of a male influence in the house.

But as the story progresses the realisation that all this was an accident dawns. The BOO moments aren't deliberately undercooked - they're just flat. There's no attempt to keep the events as ordinary and everyday as possible – it's just dull. There's no theme - there's no nothing. The reactions of the cast to the bizarre goings on are laughable. Director Mike Flanagan isn't paying attention to what's happening. Would you honestly be caught up with wondering if so-and-so (Parker Mack) is going to ask you to the Homecoming dance when your father is contacting you from beyond the grave? Would you really take a fancy to the local priest (Thomas) when your dead husband's spirit is moving through your daughter? This is probably down to the script being cobbled together from different drafts with themes and subplots momentarily raised before being quickly dropped.

In the middle of all this Henry Thomas's bashful priest sits us down to recount a horrific story, and one that sounds like an infinitely better movie: An SS doctor conducted grotesque occult experiments on concentration camp prisoners but one Polish prisoner survives and makes it to the US. He is committed to a rundown mental institution… and one of the doctors is the same Nazi doctor. Gulp. Hey, why aren't we watching that movie?

Very poor stuff indeed.