Ronan Doyle’s review:
Shot in an actual morgue with (allegedly) real body parts: now there's a horror movie right there. If only it wasn't delivered in such a completely boring way... The dialogue's not awful, but more often than not it's achingly cliched. There is a nicely slow build in the beginning, alas it merely transitions to a completely inert finale. A dead body that doesn't come to life, just inflicts magic wounds on people, is not really a very threatening horror villain, and the fact that she might well be the film's most charismatic character is a good indication of how drab these performers are, as cold and unconvincing as the film's colour scheme. The protagonist is infuriatingly inactive, moaning about feeling a connection to spirits and then, through her utter lack of dramatic agency and courtesy of some wild factual inaccuracies, doing absolutely nothing about the very things she insists others should be more concerned with. And then she decides to slut it up. Of course. Woefully written tosh.