A young couple decide to film themselves at home in the hope that it will shed light on a series of unexplained incidents.
Yet another dreary, pointless entry in the Blair Witch-style wobblycam canon, Paranormal Activity is a pseudo documentary cataloguing a series of bumps in the night as two mildly irritating middle class Americans are plagued by a pesky home invading demon. In its defence, the protagonists are reasonably naturalistic, the casting director thankfully steering clear of the supermodel-cum-starlets that usually adorn this type of thing, although the spookiest aspect of the film is Micah Sloat’s resemblance to a young Freddie Mercury. There are still plenty of opportunities for the director to have Katie Featherston and her ample cleavage run around in her underwear while the bemused Sloat threatens to kick its ghostly ass for opening and closing the door and moving their car keys while they’re trying to get some kip. It all ends with the inevitable demonic “twist” and the whole thing just reminded me of one of those Victorian charlatans who duped the gullible by organising seances with the use of cheap conjuring tricks.
More laughable than dreadful, Paranormal Activity didn’t really offend me, mainly because it’s just such a non-event.