Lights out, time for sex. Or rather a contrived theory about how the composition and journey of an orgasmic spurt can be compared to the ingredients and structure of a classic horror. So as they say on the news before Match of the Day, “If you don’t want to know the score, look away now.” First is the tease. In place of a flash of thigh or a hint of a bulge (whatever rocks your love boat) is a seductive opening which catches our attention and more so our breath which in the case of Lights Out is a crackle of electricity accompanied by a spiral zoom out from an unidentified object which turns out to be a commonplace symbol of what’s to come.

After the hook is a slow reel in which combines pleasure with pain and provokes a series of audible gasps of the ooh and aah variety: in the bedroom, a bite, a stroke, a lick; in the cinema, a long walk down a narrow corridor, a creaking door, a flickering light. Next, a burst of activity which shudders to a toe-curling crescendo but falls just short of a Top C: a face in a mirror, a silhouette in a door, an ominous shadow filling the light. Then a charged lull broken by a yes, yes, yes, yes, no. A more, more, more, more, slow. A harder, faster, harder, faster, harder, faster, oh! As a dagger plunges, a trigger cocks, a stiff falls hard to the floor. Followed by silence. Stillness. And a pleasurable puff on a post-coital cigarette. Or, more likely, a race to the toilet!

Unlike many of the recent horror films which have combined the staple ingredients and classic structure to disappointing effect, Lights Out by Eric Heisserer (who co-wrote the 2010 remake of A Nightmare on Elm Street) together with Swede David F. Sandberg (who makes his feature directorial debut with this extended version of his 2006 short of the same name have succeeded with tremendous effect.

Each shot is meticulously framed, each sequence carefully choreographed to draw in the audience and crank up the tension, each word earns in its place and each of the characters are fully sketched out, perfectly cast and wonderfully played. With Maria Bello and Teresa Palmer as warring mother and daughter Sophie and Rebecca worthy of singling out for praise. Though in fairness to the rest of the cast, it is a fine ensemble production in which the story is more important than the stars.

The bones of which are: the ghost of a woman (or real evil bitch?) who developed a rare skin condition and extreme sensitivity to light after being locked in a windowless basement with the corpse of her father forms a close attachment to a fellow psychiatric patient whom she prevents from forming close relationships with friends and family through violent means which can only be executed in the dark of night – hence the title Lights Out. With two husbands bumped off and two children dumped to the margins, the depressed woman whose life has been possessed fights back. But how do you defeat an evil spirit who is immune to bullet and blade? As she discovers for herself in a dramatic finale which contains more twists than a Chubby Checker convention: “Sometimes the strongest thing to do is just to face your fears.”

[imdb id=tt4786282]

Peter Callaghan
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