With a name like that it's got to be good, right? Sadly, no. But as shamelessly manipulative, incomprehensibly constructed, puzzlingly acted horror films go, Boogeyman has at least one thing going for it: an honest title. It opens with a child shaking in fear, staring at his closet as he anticipates the arrival of, yes, the boogeyman. At first the boogeyman doesn't show. Then he seems to show, but it's actually the boy's father (Charles Mesure) assuring his son again that, dammit, all that boogeyman talk is just a scary story so knock it off already. To prove his point, Mesure walks into the closet, where he falls victim to… the boogeyman.
Fast-forward 15 years later. The boy has grown up to be Barry Watson, an associate editor at a hip big-city magazine. But all the glitz and glamour hasn't made him any less afraid of dark closets or creatures that might dwell under beds. Forced to return home for his mother's funeral, Watson finds those fears intensifying. Exercising questionable judgment, he puts his worries aside and decides to spend the night at his remote, dilapidated childhood home. There a series of strange occurrences and the arrival of a ghostly child (Skye McCole Bartusiak) force him to an inescapable conclusion: there may be a boogeyman or boogeymen in the house. It shouldn't surprise him. The film goes on to reveal in flashback that talk of the boogeyman and debate over his existence formed the defining drama of Watson's early family life. (Also of note, one-time warrior princess Lucy Lawless plays Watson's mother, making her entrance under, ay-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi, heavy ghoul make-up.)
It might be fair to expect that this is all part of a grand scheme to set up some ambiguity about how many of the scary goings-on actually happen and how many take place inside Watson's inexpressive head, but that never really gels. Mostly Boogeyman remains content to be a film about a boogeyman who hides in closets and under beds and gobbles people up. And for that, it deserves a certain amount of respect. On the other hand, the film could hardly be any sillier. That Watson bears an uncanny resemblance to funnyman Jimmy Fallon doesn't exactly up the fright factor. Maybe that's why director Stephen T. Kay (director of Get Carter, but not the good version) throws in so many flash cuts, eerie close-ups of everyday objects, and frightening images popping up out of characters' sightlines in the blank space of the frame. Then, as if out of tricks, he brings in the CGI effects to complete the picture with a special appearance from, well, the title provides a hint.