There isn't one genuine thrill in the whole thing. I've had bigger scares from my goldfish bowl.
As Mary loses sleep, her paranoia worsens, yet Christina Hodson's monotonous script fails to make Mary's psychological struggles feel any more severe than a case of misplaced keys.
Watts gives her all to this overheated nonsense, but is powerless to make emotional sense of what turns out to be the story's twisted central relationship, and ends up being just another fiercely maternal damsel in distress.
This hokey horror film should have stayed cooped up.
In this achingly inept thriller, you will see Naomi Watts do what she can to sell a plot of such preposterousness that the derisory laughter around me began barely 20 minutes in.
It was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly, scads of cliches appeared on the horizon.
The presentation is dull, the plot is plodding, and the characters are sketches of people we've seen in better films.
The big twist is so ridiculous that viewers will more likely find themselves laughing at its sheer silliness than reeling from its dramatic rug-pulling.
"Shut In" is more effective as a 90-minute commercial for the L.L. Bean aesthetic than as a pseudo-psychological thriller.