The Sixth Sense review

For Bruce Willis, when things go bump in the small hours, it's more usually a crack squad of Euro-terrorists looking to foul-up his holiday plans with a spot of festive heist than ghouls and goblins.

Unless, of course, he's sporting his geeky-side-parting-thereby-denoting-doctor-or-academic-of-some-description.

And those who have furtively borne witness to The Color Of Night (you mucky little herberts) will probably agree that in such cases, it's best not to ask when things bumping are concerned. Well, the sensible coiffure is indeed intact, but sordid behaviour isn't, so happy day. Or not so happy, as it turns out.

For as Dr Malcolm Crowe, a dishevelled, rather obsessive child psychologist, he's been confronted by a past failure in the biggest way possible, and now burns with the desire to make amends. And his latest patient, Cole Sear (Haley Joel Osment), could seriously do with some help. Insomnia, bed-wetting and social isolation are an everyday part of Cole's life. As is fear. Real, crippling, biological terror.

Because Cole has developed a nasty habit of being able to see ghosts. All the time. And we're not talking Casper The Cheerful Blob Of Floating Toothpaste either, but loud, angry visions of the recently and not voluntarily departed.

And not surprisingly, it's scaring him half to death. But even if Dr Crowe believes him - and that's by no means a given - the sharp question is whether he can do anything about it.

Although an entirely relevant facet of cinema's broad tapestry, action heroes will come and go - the real measure of a movie star is whether the clout earned running-jumping-and-thumping is used to do anything else. And every so often, Bruce Willis comes up trumps. Like now.

A surprise hit in the States, his careful, actorly performance here is but one of the many qualities in this rather effective shocker - Dr Crowe appearing almost as harrowed as Cole himself. But not quite.

Osment - found in LA after an exhaustive search through the child actors of New York and Philadelphia (where the film's set) - is a revelation, and the vital cog. His portrayal is as far from kid actor affectation as you'll ever get - it's his movie. And, to his credit, Willis lets him have it.

Add the relative youth of writer/director M Night Shyamalan - only 28 - and the film becomes only more remarkable, displaying a keen knowledge of technique, and not feeling the need to resort to gore.

Shyamalan's frights are the creeping kind, and the sudden shocks - the ones that get under your skin, blast down your back, and give you a nervous laugh in the cinema when everyone jumps in their seats.

Should your blood feel uncommonly thin, or your spine long for sensation, then this excellent scare-monger is definitely the cure.