Whoever wrote The Shining (1980) should be going after the filmmakers of 7 Days To Live (2001), a connect-the-dots horror formula rip-off.
A novelist and his wife buy a patently haunted mansion in a countryside marsh to put their grieving behind them after their son ate a bee and choked to death. (He should’ve put some butter or salt on it first.) The house has a dubious history — 20 years earlier a man killed his wife in there and let the body sit in front of the TV for a week before the authorities went to investigate their electric bill.
The house, it seems, has a way of finding out your deepest fear, then smacking you in the forehead with it. In this case, the wife getting tell-tale signs that she’s going to die in seven days. All the while, her writer husband is doing a second-rate Shining knock-off with mood swings so wild he could be a circus ride.
After noting her bent hubby’s excessive use of four-letter words, the freaked wife investigates the house’s f’d up past and discovers the place is built on a giant graveyard. (Yeah, like graveyards are believable.) Then her dead kid comes back to hit her up for allowance. Then her husband gives her a head butt (which was right up there with any finishing move you’d see in a WWE™ pay-per-view). Then mud ghosts come out of the marsh seeping into the basement. (That’ll happen when you leave the DOOR OPEN.)
Then you get bored because there’s too much talking and not enough bleeding. Cheese Whiz™ haunted house fare with a dorkball ending — the husband and wife write a best seller about their experiences. Amityville Horror (1979) — been there, done that. If you have seven days to live, don’t waste 90-minutes of it watching this photocopied ass jamboree.
Drinkin' & Drive-in 