It has been said before, but there comes a moment in everyone's personal 'mapping out' of a genre when one has to put their foot down and say 'here be the bad stuff'. Note the curious non-found footage intro bit with the director's more famous dad Oliver talking around a full dinner table and languidly huffing pot. Eh? Anyway, three unlikeable ADD-afflicted idiots (they can't keep a torch trained on something for less than a split second) break into a 'haunted' asylum to look for ghosts. Here's the sort of incomprehensible, tedious item full of improbably filmed content in conditions of poor visual clarity (honestly, this movie has the worst lighting I have ever seen) which gives the 'found footage' genre a bad name. Camera and torches flick and dart in non-stop headache-inducing spurts, rarely synchronising for longer than a second or so, and of course if we had a video camera and there was a serial killer or vengeful spirit (or both, as seems to be the case here) on our tail, we would take care to do our 'panicked running' with the camera carefully pointing ahead. And so it goes, until the thoroughly mystifying finale, which although frustratingly unsatisfying, nevertheless brings a welcome 'cool side of the pillow' relief that the ordeal is over. Over for the viewer, that is.