Oh dear. On paper, it couldn"t fail; Oscar-winning actress Jennifer Connelly in the lead; the ever-reliable Pete Postlethwaite in support; a story from the author of The Ring; and the resources of the mighty Touchstone backing the picture. All that was missing, it seems upon watching this almost haphazard series of scenes, was a director. The plot is so basic that commenting on it gives the game away, so suffice it to say, Dahlia Williams [Connelly] and her 5-year old daughter [a superb turn by Camryn Manheim] are forced by post-divorce reduced circumstances to relocate to a run-down apartment in a bad neighbourhood (if this was the 30"s it would have been a spooky mansion), where they hear mysterious noises from the apartment above, from which the incumbent family mysteriously disappeared some months previously. The couple had a young daughter. The opening minutes of the film point out, with all the subtlety of an earthquake, that there is a water tower on the building"s roof. And you can probably work out the rest from there. Even allowing for the fact that the plot is as thin as the walls of Dahlia"s apartment, a good film could still have been fashioned from the premise on view here, and indeed, might actually well have been originally; the presented 101-minute film gives the appearance of several crucial scenes having been cut (if they were never actually shot, the director, Walter Salles, should have been). A sub-text of the lead character suffering a mental breakdown, and allusions to a corresponding relationship with her mother that ties in with the plot are never followed up; while the denouement is almost as brusque as a Scooby Doo unmasking, with the "villain" all but sneering "I"d have got away with it too if it weren"t for you pesky kids". The lighting is atrocious - not just de rigour scary-movie-dark, but an all-encompassing seaweed dank that makes one turn the brightness up on the remote control just to see what is going on [to discover the answer is, not a lot]. Pete Postlethwaite, who is the only other character of substance in what is essentially a one-woman ensemble piece (paradox intended) sports an accent that should have its own Special Feature in the DVD Extras - Guess The Source (is he Polish? A native Bronxer with severe adenoid problems? Best bet is to stick on the subtitles whenever he appears). Further disappointment for the lads will no doubt be forthcoming when they discover that Connelly, possessor of probably the best body in Hollywood, fails to get wet as depicted on the cover for more that 10 seconds, but the film remains eminently watchable purely because Ms C is both naturally charismatic and an immensely gifted actress. Whether too many people will reach for this DVD for a second viewing is debateable though.