Ouija: Origin of Evil Review

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Against all odds this haunted-house horror/elaborate board game advert isn’t a total bust. It’s a prequel to the entirely forgettable 2014 original and incoming director Mike Flanagan (he of Oculus and Hush) deserves a decent amount of credit for turning a creaky, seen-it-all-before ghost story into an enjoyably schlocky funhouse ride. The scare tactics are solid rather than spectacular, so while it’s unlikely to keep you up at night strong performances and a knowing sense of humour mean it does a job while it lasts.

Flanagan also makes good use of the groovy 60s setting. Instead of rushing the supernatural shenanigans he holds back, bathing every inch of the screen in a nostalgic glow and allowing us to spend some quality time in a world of stylish cars, Jean Shrimpton hair and ice cream sundaes. We even get a pleasing early gag about the plausibility of putting a man on the moon, so it’s a bit of shame when the period trappings make way for the meat of the plot. Make way they must, though. The Zander family and their unwanted house guests need our undivided attention.

Times are tough for the Zanders. The man of the house isn’t around anymore and with bills stacking up mum Alice (Elizabeth Reaser, The Good Wife) has had to rope her two daughters into her scam séance act. Nine-year-old Doris (Lulu Wilson) is small enough to fit into a special compartment in a rigged-up cabinet, while rebellious teen Paulina (the excellent Annalise Basso) poses as a shadowy, spectral presence behind a pulled curtain. Pretty soon a Ouija board is introduced and – as you might expect – it does far more than spice up a stale routine.

Story-wise it should all sound pretty familiar – people who should know better mess about with forces beyond their control, blur the lines between this world and the next and then run around screaming when something sinister comes creeping and crawling through from the other side. Essentially that’s what we get, but Flanagan introduces enough wit and left-field wrinkles to keep boredom at bay. As well as creepy dolls, an even creepier kid and all the usual jump scares, E.T.’s Henry Thomas pops up as dishy principal/priest who supposedly has a hotline to the Vatican’s exorcism unit. Before you know it there’s also a batshit backstory involving a devil-worshipping Nazi doctor with a taste for sewing his victims’ mouths shut.