In his first film post the billion-dollar Harry Potter franchise, Daniel Radcliffe still sees ghosts over his shoulders. Unlike Harry, whose affiliation with the lingering dead (practically and metaphorically) were always of a greater number, in The Woman in Black, he only has two to fend off—one is the gray-scaled, ever-present specter of a veiled woman and the other is a semi-subconscious inkling that this is a continuing Potter film.

For Hammer studios (makers of vintage Dracula), this may well be a disguised blessing. Distributed stateside by CBS Films, The Woman in Black is the studio’s most commercially successful fare: it has grossed $90 million worldwide on a budget of $13 million.

The fanfare owes one-half to Radcliffe, and another to the material’s legacy (the film is an adaptation of the 1982 novel, and a long-running play).

Another, more or less, substantial part of the film’s box-office popularity is the predictability unanimously associated with boo-in-the-dark horror films. This predictability is a facet, as well as an asset, brazenly hugged by director James Watkins (Eden Lake) and screenwriter Jane Goldman (Stardust, Kick Ass).

You know the drill: shadowy apparitions skulk behind Radcliffe’s back; menacing (and ugly) hand-carved toys abruptly start playing; people in photographs have their eyes scratched off; a vacant rocking chair sets off on its own. If there’s a clue in here, both I (as the audience) and Radcliffe’s character—Arthur—are damned if we knew what.

The opening scene is a clincher: three young girls are playing tea-party with their toys when something invisible to the camera draws their attention. They leave their play things, walk quietly to the window, almost hand-in-hand, and jump off! Years later, Arthur, a mopey, young, widowed solicitor is instructed by his owner to close a case. We know he is a wreck with almost suicidal tendencies. At his first on-screen appearance he’s just about ready to cut his windpipe off with a shaving blade.

He also sees dead people—in this case his wife who died during childbirth. Distinct from the “woman in black” who he sees much later in the film, his wife’s otherworldly reflection blooms in vivid shades of white.

Soon he leaves behind his four-year old (Misha Handley, Radcliffe’s real god-son) and heads out to a remote town. Although a first-time visitor, Arthur meets unprovoked glares from the towns folk when he mentions his nature of business: the closing of Eel Marsh House—an off-shore, dust-laden mansion that’s routinely run over by tide. People have a firm understanding: if Arthur does not leave soon, more of their children will die. The connection, relatively unexplained by the screenplay, is valid.

Children do die and the intensity of evil eyes that Arthur gets increases. Adamant about uncovering the clues, he finds helpful refuge with Ciaran Hinds, a wealthy landowner with a kooky-wife (Janet McTeer) who still grieves their long-dead son.

The film’s mystery suffocates in its makeshift, in-your-face atmosphere. The minimalist cinematography (Tim Maurice-Jones), music (Marco Beltrami) and the mutely colored production design and costumes (Kave Quinn, Keith Madden) carry the Edwardian-era feel to the tee.

And of course there’s Radcliffe, who owns about every second of every frame—even when his performance is often directed to look big-eyed and worried (something he mastered quite well as Harry).

The Woman in Black works Radcliffe to a corner. A supernatural–thriller (though not much of both), is not the way to go right now—but that’s strictly my own perception. Call it a subconscious fixture if you may. Rated PG-13, there’s only faux suspense and put-on dramatics here.

Green peace

The 3D-powered animated feature of the good (green environment), the bad (capitalism) and the ugly (greed) is what Dr. Seuss’ The Lorax is in a nutshell. Everything else is only pretty adornment for this Universal release.

The story has a young boy named Ted (Zach Efron) infatuated with a high school-going, tree-loving Audrey (Taylor Swift).

Audrey has one dream: to see a real tree. Why? Because Ted and Audrey live in Thneed-Ville which is a Truman Show-like enclosed city with plastic trees where fresh air is sold in bottles! The town is run by Mr. O’Hare (Rob Riggle), the mayor of the city who is mean and short with a bad hair do and the owner of the fresh air bottle company.

Ted goes on a mission to find to a tree for Audrey. With supportive nudging from his grandmother (Betty White), he finds Once-ler (Ed Helms), a man who knows about trees. Once-ler, who no one has seen, lives outside the city in a rickety shack and once he finds him, Once-ler tells him a tale of when he was young and everything was green and fresh with Truffula Trees, which had pink fur instead of leaves; when there were Bar-ba-loots, (another name for cute, harmless bears) and Humming Fish (like the Minions of Despicable Me, both annoying and cute). He also tells Ted about the guardian of the trees, Lorax (Danny DeVito), a short orange guy with a big yellow mustache.

Produced by Illumination Entertainment and co-directed by first timer Kyle Balda and Chris Renaud (Despicable Me), The Lorax has the same writing team from Horton Hears a Who! (Ken Daurio and Cinco Paul).

Adapting Dr. Seuss’ books as animations have always fared well than jarringly bad live action features like How the Grinch Stole Christmas and The Cat in the Hat. As always, it’s not an easy task to imaginatively adapt a small picture book—especially with a voice as distinctive as Dr. Seuss’—without compromising too much narrative for the sake of reeling-in commercial charm.

With The Lorax, it’s the same story. Its bright, pretty and heavy on preach as green peace is hammered-in, unblinkingly, as is the book.

Still, it has some nice musical numbers (Let it Grow and How Bad Can I Be?), light tongue-in-cheek humour and wonderful—and sometimes over-used 3D.— Farheen Jawaid