The strongest analogue for the second half of "Insidious" is one that the filmmakers probably weren't trying for: it feels like a less poetic version of an M. Night Shyamalan fairy tale.
There's not much that's insidious, or subtle, here. A prolonged scene involving an unnerving high-pitched burglar alarm does get under our skin. But it's far more annoying than frightening.
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.
Director James Wan and screenwriter Leigh Whannell admire all sorts of fright, from the blatant to the insidiously subtle. This one lies at an effective halfway point between those extremes.
If your idea of a fun night out is to be manipulated by freaky sound effects, jumpy edits, and point-of-view shots of ceiling fans whooshing menacingly, Insidious is the film for you.
No blood, no gore, no hacked-off arms and legs, but plenty of creepy set pieces, quick cuts and blasts of music that will have you both squirming in your seat and jumping out of it.