It’s strange how a mediocre horror movie can cause the mind to wander. Watching “Mirrors,” I kept thinking about Jacques Lacan’s theoretical stages of psychosexual development, specifically the mirror stage. According to Lacan, the mirror stage occurs between six and eighteen months of age; it’s the point at which a toddler looks into a mirror and finally identifies him or herself as “I.” Lacan would turn in his grave if he saw “Mirrors,” in which an evil force manipulates reflections into committing murder. Because the reflections are no longer representing the actual person, that reassuring sense of self is essentially destroyed. Paranoia sets in. Actions get increasingly irrational. Maybe the point is that mirrors in and of themselves are not the key to self-identification--the real key is knowing whether you’re the actual person or the reflection staring back.

If this sounds like the introduction to a college paper instead of a movie review, I apologize. But to be perfectly honest, what I just wrote is a lot more interesting than the film itself, which is about as run-of-the-mill as supernatural horror movies get. Much like “One Missed Call,” “Shutter,” and “The Eye” (all of which came out this year, I might add), “Mirrors” can only be appreciated at face value; it’s creepy and atmospheric, and there are more than a couple of jump-out-of-your-seat scares to scream to. In other words, it’s a good-looking, frightening movie. But what does this say about the story? If you can somehow get past the superficial layers of “Mirrors,” you’ll quickly realize that the story isn’t giving you much of anything, and what little it does give you makes about as much sense as a solar-powered flashlight. And for the record, I’ve about had it with American remakes of Asian horror films. It doesn’t matter that I’ve never seen the Korean film “Mirrors” is based on, called “Geoul Sokeuro”--I still understand that tapping into another country’s movie supply is almost always a bad idea.

The plot: former NYPD detective Ben Carson (Kiefer Sutherland) gets a new job as a night watchman for an abandoned department store that was destroyed by a fire. The position was made available after the last watchman died under ... shall we say mysterious circumstances? On his first night of duty, Ben is made aware that the burnt building is filled with spotlessly clean mirrors. Then he leaves a handprint on one of them, and that’s when strange things start to happen. The mirrors begin showing him terrible images of people burning alive and a charred woman screaming in agony. At one point, his own reflection burns, and what’s worse, the real Ben can actually feel the pain of it. After such a traumatic experience, it’s a wonder he comes back to work the second night. I know there wouldn’t be a movie if he didn’t come back, but even in the context of a horror movie, there are certain things that just shouldn’t be repeated.

The rest of Ben’s family soon learns that something evil has entered their lives. As it turns out, the force living in the mirrors can take on the form of a person’s reflection. Once this is done, the reflection can do things to the real people, namely murder them in horrible ways. As Ben delves deeper into the mystery of what really happened at the department store, his rational state of mind slips further and further away. He seeks the support of his wife, Amy (Paula Patton), who he separated with after a bad incident drove him to alcoholism. Amy, a pathologist, initially refuses to believe anything her husband tells her, especially now that their young son, Michael (Cameron Boyce), is beginning to act strangely. He seems to talk to himself whenever he’s alone in his room, and he claims to keep seeing things inside his mirror. Then Amy finally notices that Michael’s reflection is not in sync with Michael himself; at that crucial moment, she pleads with Ben to double his efforts and solve the mystery. Hopefully, he can find the person the evil force is asking for, someone by the name of Esseker.

It’s an interesting idea, no question. But ideas can only take you so far; at a certain point, you have to develop them until they actually work. The problem with “Mirrors” is that it’s no better than a series of pop-out scares and ghoulish special effects, and that’s because there isn’t a solid story to help it go any further. Secrets are revealed and answers are found, but none of that matters because they don’t make any sense. Neither does the ending, which--and you’ll forgive me for being a little vague--inexplicably puts a new perspective on things. I left this movie with a series of questions lined up in my head, which is annoying. I was hoping to be afraid of my own reflection; God knows I don’t want an image in a mirror tearing my own jaw out of its socket.

So, with nothing left to say other than how disappointing “Mirrors” is, I turn back to Jacques Lacan, who believed that the discovery of “self” can only be made through systems of representation. In the mirror stage, we come to represent ourselves as being distinct from the world, and we ultimately desire to take that fragmented image and become whole. This can never happen, as the characters in “Mirrors” learn the hard way; there is an inherent structural gap between our image and our person. I could argue that the filmmakers were trying to make this point all along, but considering how badly the plot was constructed, that would probably be a waste of time. And it bothers me that I got nothing from this movie other than a reminder of abstract theoretical ideas. I know one thing for sure: if the next movie I see crosses into territory reserved for critical theory, I’ll leave the theater and demand my money back.

- Chris Pandolfi