Here De Palma poses the burning question: is there still commercial mileage in demonic possession? But this attempted follow-up to Carrie almost entirely lacks its predecessor's narrative thrust and suspense. At centre it's another common-or-garden story of children screwed up by their own telekinetic powers, but there are several distracting subplots: one about secret US government research into psychic phenomena (masterminded by Evil Incarnate in the person of Cassavetes), more on the hero's paternal angsts as he approaches the male menopause. Stylistic pretensions further defuse whatever punch the original script might have had. In so far as the film lives at all, it's in its shock effects, which are adequately cruel if too thin on the ground - although the heartwarming sight of Cassavetes getting his just deserts compensates for a lot.