Directed by John Carpenter. Starring Amber Heard, Danielle Panabaker, Mika Boorem, Jared Harris, Mamie Gummer, Laura-Leigh 16 cert, gen release, 88 min

THE WORD on the spooky, under-lit street was that The Wardmarks a return to form for John Carpenter. It's been a while coming. The director of such copper-bottomed classics as Halloweenand The Thinghas not delivered a feature since 2001's barely passable Ghosts of Mars. So, are we back on track? Well, sort of.

The Wardis certainly admirably disciplined. The story follows a troubled young woman who, after apparently burning down a building, gets sent to a home for the criminally beautiful and implausibly well made-up. It soon becomes clears that she and the other barmy dolly-birds are being stalked by a ghost with a face inexpertly fashioned from savoury mince. Sadly, when she explains the situation to Dr Jared Harris, he refuses to take action. That's because she's mad, you see.

If you were being unkind, you could suggest that the picture plays like the work of a man who’s watched too many John Carpenter movies. We are forever glancing spectral presences in corridors or hearing inhuman gurgles from unlikely corners. But, to be fair, as faux-John Carpenters go, the real one will do quite nicely.

Retaining the feel of an old-school 1970s shocker, rationing the gore to a respectable trickle, The Wardworks its way through the scares in impressively ordered, notably restrained fashion. The speed-metal, glossy mayhem of late 1990s horror could not seem more distant.

For all that, The Warddoes feel like a very minor film. More suited to a TV episode, it strains to extend its threadbare concept – a ghost in a madhouse – over a mere 88 minutes. And punters who fail to guess the creaky final twist should consider checking themselves into a mental asylum.