The jury is still out on whether Daniel Radcliffe possesses the chops, nous and nuance to sustain a rewarding acting career away from Hogwarts. But credit where it's due: the former Potter has taken a shrewd baby-step in the right direction with this busy, bustling ghost story that at times appears less indebted to the Susan Hill bestseller than the Haunted Mansion ride at Disneyland. The plot is skeletal, a bag of bones, spring-loaded with booby-traps and wired to the mains as it shuttles Radcliffe's widowed young lawyer around Eel Marsh House, the obligatory "old place cut off from the outside world".

Outside, in the cold, the Cold Comfort locals have secrets to hide. Inside, in the dark, the chairs are rocking and the stairs are creaking. There's a face in every window and cobwebs on the chandeliers. I'll confess that James Watkins's exuberant joy-buzzer direction had me jumping in my seat and clutching pathetically at the armrest. All the same, I remain undecided about Radcliffe, who endures each shuddering shock with a blank, stoic fortitude that suggests a teenager taking his driving test. He passes, but only just.