Almost a decade after Rosemary’s Baby, Mia Farrow does another turn as a disturbed mother. Her wide-eyed gasping mannerisms and pixie ‘do make her seem like she’s returned for the sequel. The haunted house and is-she-dead-or-not daughter are reminiscent of other films of the era like Burnt Offerings and Don’t Look Now. As is the slooow build-up driving both the characters and viewers crazy. Notably unique is the prog-rock keyboard score which reminds me of early Pink Floyd. At first I rolled my eyes and chuckled thinking it would horribly date the movie and render it complete camp. To my surprise it proves a strong contributor to the spooky atmosphere with wormy tendrils of squiggly synths crawling through my brain. The story lost me a few times by introducing so many people with questionable relevance. The most interesting of them — the possessive husband, quirky spiritualist and obsessive man with links to the past — are somewhat underused. Any of them could be behind the grieving mother’s psychological breakdown but the balance between human and supernatural meddling leans too far one way. Making up for a meandering plot and minimal frights are a powerful beginning and end. The daughter is quickly and tragically done away with in a scene that will strike terror in any parent. The finale isn’t as dramatically played out but leaves a strong visual impression that is as beautifully composed as it is unsettling. I had to flip channels for a while to get the image out of my head before bed, a good sign for any horror film.

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