This tense supernatural thriller centers on the increasingly unmoored Beth (Rebecca Hall), who has recently and unexpectedly become a widow, and, as such, is somewhere between the stages of shock and anger. During the film’s initial sequence, she returns with a friend to the lakeside house her late husband, Owen (Evan Jonigkeit, glimpsed both in flashbacks), designed and built. She accepts the acquaintance’s condolence casserole, but when she enters the home alone, she dumps it in its entirety into the trash.

Owen’s side of the bed isn’t even cold when strange things begin to happen, starting with a knock in the middle of the night. When Beth investigates, there is nothing except muddy footprints ominously leading up from the docked and empty rowboat, which is where he shot himself.

She begins drinking too much and doesn’t sleep enough, though luckily, she has two good friends: Claire (Sarah Goldberg), who teaches at the same high school as Beth, and a kindly neighbor, Mel (Vondie Curtis-Hall). Both have no shortage of sympathy, especially Claire, who responds with straight-faced seriousness to her friend’s claim that a ghost haunts her home.

More weird stuff abounds, but what really shakes up Beth is the discovery that her husband was leading a double life that involved dabbling in the occult and taking lots of pictures of women who look strikingly similar to her. Hall, who has done tremendous work in Christine (2016) and Professor Marston and the Wonder Women (2017), is once again terrific as a similarly intellectual woman who finds herself drowning in her own emotions. Nobody gradually comes unglued quite like Hall. Unlike her character in Christine who disintegrated before our eyes, Beth flings herself into her quest for answers with dogged determination—she’ll mourn once she’s figured out who it is she actually lost.

As is often the case with movies featuring haunted houses, the main setting becomes its own character, although the approach of director David Bruckner is unique. Taking the idea that Owen’s presence can still be literally seen and felt throughout his old home, Beth at first glimpses his outline—or that of somebody—in the curves of the interior architecture. However, it’s usually due to the specific angle she’s looking from or a reflection, and so when she turns around or looks again, the image is gone. Eventually, the interiors start to morph and take on a life of their own. When that initially happens, it’s genuinely freaky, but Bruckner recycles the scares until they get old.

Also, with regards to the main dwelling, the film tries to walk a line between realism and fantasy for as long as possible, and as a result, the house never takes on the kind of menacing atmosphere found in comparable movies such as The Shining (1980) or Hellraiser (1987). To the end, it’s still rather homey and pleasant. This touches on a larger issue: the narrative appears poised to take Beth and the audience someplace dark and disturbing, but it doesn’t necessarily follow through, partly because Bruckner plays it safe at times. For example, when Beth makes a fateful and grisly discovery about what Owen was really up to, the camera sees what she finds for a moment before cutting away. Bruckner doesn’t have to be Dario Argento reveling in blood and viscera, but this is a horror movie—we need to occasionally stare at graphic gore to be reminded of the perils awaiting our protagonist.

There are times in which Bruckner’s direction is too intellectual and not visceral enough. The film does start to cut loose down the home stretch via a prolonged, well-executed chase sequence that involves Beth and other women on the run, all of whom are being pursued by the same evil entity, yet it climaxes with a sit-down conversation. On paper, the two scenes probably seemed like an interesting contrast, but in practice it’s a relatively dull finale.

The bottom line: Rebecca Hall gives another fine performance and Bruckner reveals he can expertly set up jolts, but overall, The Night House isn’t destined to linger in viewers’ thoughts, much less give them nightmares.