Perky, blonde Kate Hudson unlocks her inner scream-queen in The Skeleton Key playing Caroline, a young woman living in New Orleans who answers an ad for a live-in nurse in the newspaper. In short order she is hired on the spot to care for the victim of a stroke (Ben, played by John Hurt) at the behest of his obsessive wife (Violet, played by Gena Rowlands). Despite her best friend Jill’s (Joy Bryant) warnings about living out in such an isolated, alligator-infested area, Caroline packs up her VW Bug and moves to Terrebone Parish.

At first, she is fascinated by the home — a moss-laden, foreboding and decrepit Gothic mansion nestled in the Louisiana delta. Intrigued by the enigmatic couple, their mysterious and secretive ways and of course, their sprawling house, Caroline beings to explore. Aided by an antique skeleton key that unlocks every door, she discovers a hidden attic room that holds the secret she’s been so curious about. Suddenly, Caroline is thrown into the dangerous and evil world of bad juju, voodoo, hoodoo, and curses that never die.

The Skeleton Key is one of many in a long line of horror movies that take place in or near New Orleans and have a touch of black magic (Mirrors, Angel Heart, Interview with the Vampire) and while it may not have the darkest foreboding atmospheric touches to the same degree as its predecessors, The Skeleton Key focuses fairly satisfyingly on the rituals and spells without losing its polished big-budget look and feel.

All of the Louisiana locations — from the mossy bayous, to the above-ground cemeteries, to the neon strip of jungle that is Bourbon Street — are picture perfect thanks  to the talented cinematographer, Daniel Mindel (Spy Game), who gives the film a warm sepia tone in stark contrast to the cold, ancient evil that Caroline inadvertently unleashes when she opens that attic door. Mindel does fun point-of-view shots through keyholes, and uses the shape of the key in many subliminal ways throughout the film.

The music is very effective — the original score by British composer Ed Shearmur uses touches of the delta blues and Cajun music, mixing up a believable auditory gumbo of the Crescent City’s musical heritage. The sound of almost-constantly falling rain also adds wonderful texture to the creepy feel of the story (many of the downpours shown in the movie are natural ones; the area is known for its sudden, fleeting storms).

Using his ability to tell a good ghost tale to the utmost, screenwriter Ehren Kruger (The Ring, The Brothers Grimm), pulls out all the stops by having apparitions appear in mirrors, having their voices play on  old phonograph record, and working them into supple shadows that lie around every dark corner. The story rightfully makes a distinction between voodoo and hoodoo (as pointed out, perhaps a bit too pat, by Caroline’s remarkably well-informed best friend) and Kruger joyfully exploits the ideas of ritual sacrifice, curses, candles, smoky serpents, and hand-written recipes for disaster.

Brit director Iain Softley (K-Pax), also making his horror movie / suspense film debut, does an able job of keeping the anxiety level high, and the tension taut. It’s nice to see Hudson in a movie other than a romantic comedy: She acquits herself well, playing Caroline with a full and realistic range of emotions. Rowland may be a little over the top as the haunted lady of the house, but it’s all in good fun and I could not picture anyone else in the role. Hurt does a remarkable job of showing thought and fear though a mouth and body that cannot move (well, not most of the time… check out his hair-raising bathtub scene!). A bedroom-eyed Peter Sarsgaard has a small but essential role as Violet’s flirtatious Southern lawyer.

It’s a nice change to see actors actually acting, and not just blindly responding to CGI effects. It’s also a pleasure to view a film that has every female role inhabited by strong, vital characters – while everyone is a victim to some degree in the movie, they are never just that.

The much-touted ending culminates in sort of a typical Hollywood chase scene, but at its heart it’s uncompromised. Think of The Skeleton Key as “blonde voodoo” and don’t take it too seriously; it may not have the dark, gritty, mean edge to make it make it a classic in the horror genre, but it does cast a scary summer spell and is a gris-gris bag of fun while it lasts.

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Reviewed by Staci Layne Wilson