In theaters

THE HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL

William Malone’s “The House on Haunted Hill” has no problem living up to the original 1958 film on which it’s based. Just as that film was a dull piece of campy trash, so is this slapped-together remake, which stars Academy Award winner Geoffrey Rush in the role that Vincent Price played before him.

But nowhere in this film is there a long, glum funeral procession for the damage Rush has done to his career. Nowhere is there a giant hook to haul him off screen or a curtain allowed to drop to protect him — and us — from the ensuing nightmare of his over-the-top performance.

The omissions of that hook and that falling curtain are a big oversight in a film which sinks the actor squarely into caricature as Stephen Price, a multimillionaire nutcase who offers five strangers — played by Taye Diggs, Ali Larter, Bridgette Wilson, Peter Gallagher and Chris Kattan — a chance to make $1 million apiece if they can survive a night at a haunted house.

But this film, much like the ill-fated “The Haunting,” is a special-effects extravaganza that doesn’t know what to do with its characters, its plot, or its script, a thin piece of fearless fluff that features dialogue so blood curdling audiences might need a transfusion upon hearing it.

Sample line: “I’m gonna run scalding water on the place you just touched me — and then I’m gonna call a cab!”

Please do — but by all means take this rotten film with you to the city dump.

The problem with flashy peep shows such as this is how unscary they are; there is never a moment of sustained tension in “Haunted Hill.” Malone, so swept up in his computer-generated effects, somehow forgot (or simply doesn’t know) that the best horror movies work because they allow the horror to unravel in the viewer’s mind while using special effects only sparingly to give the audience a jolt.

The writers and directors of “The Sixth Sense” and “Stir of Echoes” knew this and their films are terrific because of it, easily accomplishing what good horror films do: unnerve an audience.

The only thing unnerving about “The House on Haunted Hill” is the actual experience of sitting through it. If you can do that, perhaps the studio should be cutting you a check for $1 million.

Grade: Condemned.

On video

BIG DADDY

“Big Daddy” is an imperfect film with perfect casting.

Indeed, who better than the dim, childlike Adam Sandler to play the dim, childlike Sonny Koufax, an irresponsible schmuck who adopts a recently orphaned boy because he feels that raising a child will make him appear more mature and responsible, thus worthy of his ex-girlfriend and her respect.

If none of this makes your heart melt, then perhaps a sampling of the film’s dialogue will: “Man,” Sonny says to the 5-year-old Julian, “this Yoo-Hoo is good. Know what’s even better? Smokin’ dope.” Yes, it’s true, that’s all side-splitting funny, and to think it comes only moments after Sonny teaches Julian to urinate on a building.

To be fair, none of this is as offensive as the film’s rampant product plugging, but what is remarkable is how few laughs Sandler mines from his material.

“Big Daddy” isn’t sure what it is — a comedy, a romantic comedy, an extended commercial for the restaurant Hooters, a piece of offensive, sexist trash that undermines and ridicules women at every possible moment, or — worse — a starring vehicle for Adam Sandler.

It wants its audience to believe that it has a big heart, but don’t buy it. The film has a quiet mean streak underscored with misogyny.

Grade: C-

Christopher Smith is the Bangor Daily News film critic. His reviews appear each Monday and Thursday in the NEWS, each Tuesday and Thursday on WLBZ’s “News Center 5:30 Today” and “News Center Tonight,” and each Saturday and Sunday on WCSH-TV’s statewide “Morning Report.”