For those of us growing up in the ’70s, there was one seminal, supposedly true, scary story. No, it wasn’t Helter Skelter or the trumped-up Texas Chainsaw Massacre. In high school cafeterias everywhere, we teens were talking about George and Kathy Lutz and their 1977 journey into red-eyed demonic pig terror, The Amityville Horror. The novel was a post-modern masterwork, a complete con passing itself off as irrefutable “fictional” reality. Now comes The Haunting in Connecticut, a similarly styled exercise culled from a novel and an episode of the always trustworthy TV show A Haunting from the Discovery Channel.

Ever since he was diagnosed with cancer, life has been a struggle for Matt Campbell (Kyle Gallner). While his recovering alcoholic Dad (Martin Donovan) tries to maintain house and home, well-meaning Mom (Virginia Madsen) drives several hours to Connecticut to try an experimental technique that offers some hope. The toll on the teen is too great, however, so Mom eventually moves the family to an old dilapidated house so he can be closer to his doctors. Almost immediately, weird things start happening. The building creaks and odd ethereal noises are heard. Soon Matt is seeing spirits and discovering the facilities for a funeral home in the basement. As dark forces torment him and the rest of the Campbell clan.

Let’s get one thing straight – when you move into a former funeral parlour, complete with intact embalming room, crematorium, and séance-drenched legacy, you should expect a little paranormal activity. If you didn’t get a heaped helping of problematic poltergeists and demon disturbances, you’d ask for your money back. Apparently, the notion of living where the dead used to be preserved (and in this case, desecrated in confusing, ambiguous psychic rituals) holds no sway over the Campbell family. They’re too busy worrying about young Matt’s rampaging illness to let stories of a young boy, his wicked mortician boss, and the evil acts they committed get in the way.

Australian novice Peter Cornwell can crow all he wants about this tale’s veracity, but there’s more legitimacy in your average urban legend than in this flimsy excuse for false shocks. Granted, we do feel the unsettling atmosphere of the converted death palace and at times a sense of dread starts sneaking up on us. But then the first-time feature filmmaker ruins it all by telegraphing his scares with the standard combination of menacing music cues, obvious framing, and drawn-out dramatic pauses. Too bad Cornwell overcompensates while ignoring everything else that could possibly be horrific about this situation.

Indeed, the real shame about The Haunting in Connecticut is that a decent premise is totally wasted via a dimwitted, dialed-down execution. It’s the same with Amityville and other “true” haunted-house films as well. You have to balance seriousness and skepticism, giving the viewer a chance to put themselves in the place of the characters and identify with the fright. Constantly stopping the shivers is the equivalent of dragging the audience out into the cold, clarifying rays of the sun. The accuracy of this tale will always be suspect. The facts of its sub-par cinematic translation are beyond dispute. Bill Gibron