From the opening credits, in which the title appears in blood-red letters to the accompaniment of blaring, dissonant music, the movie tries to get under your skin and inside your mind. Sometimes it does.
The final shocker succeeds in shocking, and does so sans gore. But first we have to wade through a red door and a red hallway, pleas to "follow my voice,'' and an infinity of fog about as scary as dry ice vapor spilling onto a dance floor.
The film is stylish and quietly unsettling even in its derivativeness, and it delivers the sort of slow-building chills that ruffle the hair at the back of your neck, at least until the frights get a little too literal, in the movie's third act.