Bayona’s slick and glossy debut checks (almost) all the right boxes. By ROSEANNE LIANG.

THIS accomplished first feature directed by Juan Antonio Bayona has it all. High profile producer (Guillermo Del Toro) – check. Creaking mansion and murderous ghost children – check. All the performances are well-directed, especially lead actress Belen Rueda’s engaging turn as a conflicted mother. The cinematography and mise-en-scene is well-crafted and beautiful. There’s nothing wrong with it – indeed, there is a lot about it that is technically very right. However, despite all this, it doesn’t quite connect. Or at least, it didn’t connect with me. I got it, but it didn’t get me.

I have to mention subjectivity, because from the amount of screaming in the auditorium (one particularly masculine scream was followed by a round of hearty laughter all round), the film clearly got to quite a few. As usual, however (and this is a pet peeve), these seat-jumping moments were achieved, bar none, with a sudden blast of sound. Forgive me, but I suspect that if I were to blindfold myself and tell someone to scream in my ear unexpectedly, I would jump then, too. My point is, it’s a cheap old trick. And for me, The Orphanage was the same old stuff in a shiny new package.

Endeavouring to build a complex psychological drama, The Orphanage follows the story of a woman who settles with her husband and cute-as-a-button son in a large estate by the seaside, intending to open it up as a home for a lucky few disabled children. Raised briefly on the estate as an orphan herself, her son is unaware of the fact that he is also an orphan, and HIV-positive, until one fateful day he befriends one too many a imaginary friend, who promptly tells him everything. What begins as an interesting family premise quickly turns into a predictable supernatural battle between the mother and the unseen inhabitants of the house, still present (of course) because they were murdered there. When her son disappears, she must convene with the ghost children to get him back while trying not to seem mad in the eyes of her husband and the police psychologist he has employed. Is it all in her head? Is this actually a smart film about a woman who pushes away her husband and descends into madness to deal with the guilt and grief of losing a child? Considering the genre, there is precious little ambiguity.

As a genre piece, The Orphanage is packed with clichés. Malevolent ghost children abound in everything from classics (The Shining, Poltergeist, The Amityville Horror) to modern supernatural thrillers like The Others – a prime example because it shares a similar tone, while also sharing a female protagonist in a big empty house inhabited by real and ghost kids. The Orphanage appears to have also borrowed from J-horror hits like Ringu – in the sequence with a kooky medium who uses retro video equipment prone to static (naturally); or The Grudge – when a silent shape creeps up under the bed covers. The script is prone to exposition and overwrought symbolism, from Jung’s subconscious limbo-state to Peter Pan’s eternal youth. It spells everything out, and even when you’ve got it, it spells it out some more, just in case you missed it – (spoiler ahead) when the mother finally gets her son back, and promises to look after the six other children forever, the already predictable end is laboured by another completely unnecessary scene at her grave.

For most filmgoers, The Orphanage is a pleasingly rendered and utterly sufficient horror film – the perfect date movie. For the picky ones, it is a disappointing addition to a tired genre that is desperately in need of a resurrection.