I learned two things about Valentine’s Day when I went to catch the late showing of When a Stranger Calls (with, as you may recall, the side goal of finding another single out for a horror movie). The first was that only couples go to see movies on that day. Seriously. Fifteen, twenty couples, no larger groups, certainly none smaller except me. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt quite so conspicuous. Secondly, Valentine’s Day is the day for cleavage. So, that’s alright, then.

But, I also saw a movie. A remake of a movie that was not as old as I personally would have speculated, in fact, but which I nevertheless have not seen. On days like this, I feel bad about rolling my eyes at the factory of unoriginality that Hollywood has become lately. It’s not like I’m doing my part to support the originals instead here. So, I can’t compare it as I ought. I can say it was pretty darned good.

Babysitter Jill Johnson has two sick (and therefore sleeping) children to watch, free access to the fridge, the run of an enormous lakeside mansion, and prank callers. Trade out the prank calls for an amorous boyfriend, and it would probably be a pretty good night. Although the calls are nearly as persistent as the supposed boyfriend would have been. Are they coming from all her friends, away at a bonfire party while she’s stuck on the job? Wrong number? Mysterious stranger bent on her brutal murder? It’s anyone’s guess, but it’s certainly enough to leave girl and audience increasingly tense in the unfamiliar and dark house on what can only be described as a stormy night. The slow build and lack of cheap, tension-relieving scares set this one a cut above, in my book. The original is usually better than the remake of any given movie; I hear that’s not the case this time, but if it were? Wow.