In theory, The Ring 2 ought to have been a ridiculously safe bet. Gore Verbinski had already delivered a clinically efficient Hollywood remake of the original J-horror Ringu, and the involvement of the original surviving cast (Watts and Dorfman) plus Hideo Nakata, the Japanese director behind Ringu, Dark Water and Chaos, promised chills, if not something more audacious. So what the hell happened?
 Apparently afflicted with one of the most disfiguring cases of sequelitis of recent times, The Ring 2, wherein Naomi Watts and son once again find themselves being stalked across America by a video cassette, is bizarre and shocking in all the wrong places despite slavish adherence to the first film’s narrative configuration.
 Opening in a small town in Oregon where Watts and Dorfman have started over following their previous encounter with Samara, the hirsute flesh-destroying girl-ghost in the machine, you know trouble lies ahead when the film’s ubiquitous Antipodean star starts uttering pointless dialogue like ‘Everything’s working out great, don’t you think?’ Within minutes, people have forgotten how to turn on light-switches, bodies are piling up and our heroine’s son, already a freaky little kid by anyone’s standards, has become possessed by Samara’s malevolent spirit.
 Nothing wrong there. It’s a premise that’s worked across countless Asian shockers and graphic novels, but alas, The Ring 2 is not among their number. Less nameless dread than shameless dreck, Mr. Nakata’s surprisingly inauspicious English language debut plays like a latter day Freddy Krueger encore – everything is so heavily sign-posted one starts to suspect there’s a brutal twist in the offing (there isn’t) and the tone is increasingly, laughably preposterous. What is Gary Cole doing in that baffling cameo as an estate agent? Was Sissy Spacek’s turn as sort of post-menopausal Carrie White meant for Repossessed? Did the herd of marauding murderous reindeer wander in from a Shane Black script?
 Meanwhile, though the video tape will always have a certain romance among people of a certain age (hello), even this ageing demographic will find Samara’s choice of medium anachronistic. Much like the entire movie, the girl needs an upgrade. That said, I wouldn’t have missed the ludicrous climactic moment when Naomi grabs her corporeally challenged tormentress with the Ripley-fied quip – “I’m not your fucking mommy” for all the world.
Running Time 90mins. Cert 16. Opens April 1st.