Holy fuck. Sorry about the profanity, but that just about sums up my feelings after finishing The Autopsy of Jane Doe. You should know that I generally don’t get scared at films, but this one…this one scared the crap out of me. This is how I expected to feel after watching It Follows, but never quite did. In retrospect, I know this wasn’t all that original, but boy, it sure felt like it at the time. Director André Øvredal (2010’s excellent and underappreciated Trollhunter)pulls out all the stops here to keep us holding our breath on the edges of our seats. The premise is simple: a half-buried, naked woman (Olwn Kelly) is found in the basement at a bloody crime scene. Why is she there, how did she die, and what—if any—connection does she have with the events of the floors above? Enter Tommy and Austin Tilden (played by Brian Cox and Emile Hirsch, respectively), father and son coroners tasked with finding the cause of death of poor Jane. “Every body has a secret,” Tommy tells his son. And so, Austin gives up his date night (with the lovely and aptly named Ophelia Lovibond, recently of “Elementary”) so the duo can get to the heart of Jane’s, if you’ll pardon the pun. The film starts like a procedural, but very quickly, you realize that this is not the film you thought it was going to be. Things go from mysterious, to impenetrable, to downright creepy. To say any more would ruin what I thought was a really effective creation of suspense and dread. Believe me, you’re better off going into this knowing as little as possible. In fact—and I can’t believe I’m going to say this—if you’re already interested in seeing this? Stop reading. No really, just stop. There are no spoilers to come, but you’ll thank me anyway.

Øvredal does a great job here. He uses the camera well, with low-angle, tracking shots, odd angles, close-ups of mirrors at the corner of an L-shaped hallway all adding to a sense of unease. There are also these intermittent shots of Jane’s pallid, glassy-eyed stare, which provide an unsettling point of reference that Øvredal returns to again and again. And we never quite get used to it. (An excellent example of the Kuleshov effect!) And the sound. I have to mention the sound. From the first firing of a camera flash to the final sound in the film (no, I’m not telling, but at that point, you’ll guess it), the sounds of the film assault us. And the use of the song “Let the Sun Shine In,” (which I remember from “The Flintstones”!) made it a hell of a lot creepier than when Pebbles and Bam Bam sang it. The hair is still standing up on my arms, I think. As I said, though, there’s not much original here. Jump scares abound. The thing is, often you know what’s coming, but it’s still as effective as hell, when it finally does.

Don’t get me wrong—there are some problems with the film. The dialogue is rather weak (Ian B. Goldberg and Richard Naing are primarily television writers), and although I love me some Brian Cox, the acting is merely adequate. But adequate is all they really have to be, as the moviemaking elements are the strong point here—direction, sound, editing. Cox and Hirsch just really have to keep us grounded, and not screw up too much. And sadly, the anticipation of the thing is almost always scarier than the thing itself, and such is the case here. An incredible opening hour winds down into a final half-hour that feels rushed and too convenient, by comparison. It’s what ultimately keeps this from being a knockout.

IMBD has it at 7.1. I’d go just a scalpel’s width higher, in the 7.5-8.0 range. Like I said at the opening, films don’t scare me all that much, so I’ve got to give props when they do. Maybe I’ve oversold it, and maybe it’s only because it’s late at night, and I’m alone, but I can’t remember being that…unnerved by a film in a long time. If you’re going to watch it, I suggest going for the full experience—turn the lights down late one evening, take the phone off the hook, settle in under the covers and get ready to grab the arm of your loved one in a death grip. What? You’re watching it alone? Well, then…I don’t know what to tell you, Champ. Just don’t go checking that creaking sound coming from downstairs. It’s probably just the house settling, anyway. Probably. (running time 1:39)