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It’s easy to see why Andrew Shortell’s confused psychological thriller has been on the shelf for three years. Often bordering on the hysterical, but never remotely scary or interesting, it focuses on an unstable young woman, Rosalyn (Sara Foster), and her relationship to the recent murders of women by a claw-hammer-wielding serial killer dubbed the Night Hawk. While working alone at night in the records section of a hospital, Ros tries to unravel the truth – but it is she who slowly unravels.
Foster’s overwrought, chain-smoking Rosalyn is counterbalanced by Cary Elwes’s calm, sympathetic shrink and Gabriel Mann’s oddly James Spader-like turn as Rosalyn’s frustrated boyfriend. But sympathetic or not, both the good doctor and the bad boyfriend join the list of suspects, alongside a creepy security guard, an unshaven detective and a concerned co-worker. What look like reshoots, the lazy use of child abuse as character motivation, and the J-horror-style flash-frames, CCTV footage and explanatory flashbacks, all reek of desperation.