Horror — like porn and Adam Sandler movies — is one of those divisive film genres that people tend to either obsess over or avoid completely. My own opinion lies somewhere in the middle: I rather like being scared witless, but don't find too many movies that succeed at it.

Part of that, no doubt, is being a jaded old critic. Watch enough horror flicks and you get to know the spook-house tricks: Here comes the sudden loud slam on the soundtrack; next is the tight closeup followed by something jumping in from just outside the frame; oh, and here's the anticipated moment of shock that will be dropped, only to sucker-punch you a few seconds later. It's no surprise that horror movies play best among a younger demographic, where they can still throw their creaky old curveballs for strikes.

There are movies out there that know how to freak you out, how creating an atmosphere of terror involves mood as much as moves, how what you don't show can frighten as much as what you do, and "Sinister" starts off looking like it might be one of them. Ethan Hawke stars as a nearly washed-up true-crime writer, so desperate for one more best-seller that he moves his family into a home that was once a crime scene. Oh, and he doesn't bother to inform his wife (Juliet Rylance) of the fact that a gruesome and unsolved murder took place in their backyard.