Director Jan de Bont must have incurred some seriously bad karma after terrorizing the set of "Twister," because the dude hasn't made a decent movie since. We all know how bad "Speed 2" was (see an earlier review on this site), but not even that load of limburger cheese will prepare you for "The Haunting." Nowhere close to resembling a good movie (and featuring not one good scare), "The Haunting" does, in fact, have some of the grooviest art direction you've ever seen. But we all know what it means when sets and costumes are praised as the best things about a movie: turkey, turkey, turkey.

Liam Neeson (who has hidden any charisma from the screen since "Schindler's List") plays a psychologist who gathers a group of insomniacs together at a very large, very spooky mansion to study the effects of fear on sleep-deprived, neurotic people...or something like that. The group includes shut-in Lili Taylor, sexy artist Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Owen Wilson, who really has no character traits at all, other than lusting after Zeta-Jones. Now, these three think that they're subjects for an insomnia study (Neeson: "You don't tell the rats they're in a maze!"), but Neeson promptly creeps them out by revealing the legend of Hugh Crane, who built the house and whose wife killed herself. Crane also apparently killed several children, but nothing about the story makes any sense or is ever cleared up in any convincing manner. No matter, because once the haunted house music starts cranking, the actors are given free reign to ham up their parts outrageously, and this is what makes "The Haunting" so much fun.

And the dialogue? Consider the repartee as Taylor and Zeta-Jones study a wall mural: Zeta-Jones: "Doesn't this remind you of 'The Gates of Hell?' By Rodin?" Taylor: "No. Purgatory." Zeta-Jones: "Did you study art?" Taylor: "No, I've been there. Purgatory. For eleven years." Zeta-Jones: "I've been there, too. Midnight flight from New York to Paris. In coach." (I'm not making this up, folks.)

Taylor starts wigging out almost immediately, hearing children's voices, seeing her name written on a wall in blood, and digging up bones in the fireplace. Most people would head for the hills at this point, but Taylor seems, well, intrigued ("You can be a volunteer or a victim. I'll be a volunteer."). As for the force of nature that is Catherine Zeta-Jones, she single-handedly makes the first half of this movie a complete hoot. Dressed like she just stepped off a runway in Milan (thigh-high catboots one minute, fur-trimmed coat the next), Zeta-Jones has a bad acting field day as she vamps everyone in the cast and treats every scene as if it's her own personal showcase. Meanwhile, things in the house get nuttier: walls creak, the temperature drops, weird banging is heard behind doors -- all the usual ghost story stuff, but Neeson assures them there's a perfectly good explanation for everything (like, maybe, a hack screenwriter).

When Taylor starts talking to herself and turning photo albums into animated flip-books (don't ask), Neeson comes clean about his plan, which leads to a howl-worthy exchange between him and Zeta-Jones. Transparently trying to out-act each other, the two scream into the rafters. Neeson: "I study why people act the way they act! Why they feel the way they feel!!!" Zeta-Jones slaps Neeson. Big pause. Zeta-Jones: "You. Don't. Feeeeel." Yikes.

Back in Taylor's bedroom (Would you go back to sleep in the same room where statues moved, dead children slid up on your pillow, and spirits braided your hair? Just asking.), the Ghost of Hugh Crane gets crankier, apparently fed-up with all the lousy performances. As he -- rather slowly -- traps Taylor in her bed (is it me, or does the girl want to get caught?), Wilson, who is supposed to guard her, finally hears all the noise and runs to the rescue just as the door slams shut. They get her out but can't leave the house. The rest of the movie is a poor man's "Poltergeist," climaxing in the most head-scratching finale of the year, which fairly screams "We really didn't know how to end this, so...well...here you go." This is one of the stinkiest movies of 1999 -- and don't you dare miss it.

Rating: three turkeys.

Scene to watch for: Taylor sliding across the floor after being thrown out of bed.

Best line: Taylor, to herself: "Ugh! What's that smell?"

Things that make you go, "Huh?": Taylor's big scene at the end. What exactly happened? Your guess is as good as mine.

Response From RinkWorks:

And after all that, I kind of liked the movie. The camp was laid on thick, though, I'll grant you that. -- Sam.