The suitably melodramatic music by Robert Kral is very well done, but very overly used by Cornwell, who seems unable to show an apparition in reflection or head on without strident cords peaking loudly. Subtlety is not yet his forte. A few obvious false scares, a seat-squirming eyelid clipping closeup, and a very thoughtful--and surprising--use of shadow-birds fluttering wildly about are interspersed between Kyle's worsening condition, his father's difficulty in coping with his dying son, and his mother who cannot seem to grasp the urgency of getting out of the damned house fast enough, in spite of all the weird noises, dismally dark hallways, flickering lights, creepy memento mori photos, and moldy, disfigured ghosts popping up. Incredulously, after one particularly unnerving session of ghost-to-ghost broadcasting, everyone goes back to sleep in their own rooms. By themselves. Alone. I shook my head in disbelief.