Thir13en Ghosts film review

certificate_15

THIR13EN GHOSTS

Steve Beck's remake of the 1960 William Castle Z-Movie of the same name (albeit without the superfluous part numerical-part literal titling) isn't likely to give anybody sleepless nights. Unless you happen to have invested in this rubbish, because Thir13en Ghosts is horror hokum marked for a swift and painful death at the box office. The graveyard of the video store bargain bin beckons...

Cyrus Kriticos is a ghost collector, who works alongside spectral hunter Kalina Seyler and deranged spirit guide Dennis Rafkin to round up some of the most dangerous spirits on the planet.

During one such excursion, Cyrus is murdered by the rampaging apparition, along with several other members of the team.

He bequeaths his stunning house - made almost entirely of soundproof glass - to his impoverished nephew Arthur and children Kathy and Bobby. The family, and their sassy housemaid Maggie, excitedly move into the spacious new abode, only to discover that 13 ghosts (which can only be seen by wearing special goggles) haunt its corridors.

Trapped in the building with the murderous spectres, Arthur and his loved ones desperately search for a way out before they too join the ranks of the undead. The family is aided in its perilous quest by Kalina and Dennis, who provide expert guidance on dealing with the spectres, although their motives are far from obvious.

Make sure you take some aspirin with you, because you're liable to emerge from Thir13en Ghosts with a splitting headache. The soundtrack is a deafening dirge of heavy rock and rap, spliced with uncomfortably loud screams and sound effects.

While some of the SFX are good, the performances are so over-the-top, it's laughable.

Abrahams chews scenery as if he hasn't eaten for a week, and Lillard virtually shrieks every one of his lines, as if his life depended upon it. Conversely, Shalhoub is so restrained and lifeless, you quickly suspect he may be a ghosts in disguise.

Thrills and spills are in depressingly short supply, and all of the tension which builds in the first half hour evaporates as the picture verges towards unintentional campness. Somebody call an exorcist.