Scott Derrickson folded demonic possession into courtroom drama with 2005's The Exorcism of Emily Rose; here he attempts the same with the police procedural, and winds up battling two cliches for every one. Derrickson approaches his task seriously – countless rain-snuffed lightbulbs enable the gloomiest horror since Seven – and casts smartly: ever-dependable Eric Bana is the Bronx cop tailing Scariest Living Actor Sean Harris. Yet the material soon betrays its thinness: Édgar Ramírez's priest preaches holy exposition, while Bana's family await third-act imperilment. My faith, tested by use of the Doors as a Satanic conduit, vanished for ever the instant a possessed piano bashed out Pop Goes the Weasel.