It’s a worthy idea. The dead speak to us through static television. You could make a rather spooky story with the concept. Something eerie, something edgy. Understated. It could be good. White Noise, however, does none of this. White Noise hacks up the idea and, forgoing the development of fear, occasionally makes us jump through loud random screams.

Jonathon Rivers (Michael Keaton) looses his wife and then, after many months, is finally convinced that she can speak to him through the television. He meets a guy (Ian McNeice) who records the dead on a regular basis and learns the tricks of the trade from him. Soon, Rivers is addicted to watching a TV full of static, and we are bestowed with multiple opportunities to watch Michael Keaton staring at a static-filled TV for long periods of time.

Rivers gets messages from his dead wife, telling him about accidents that are about to happen and vaguely telling him how to stop it. If she can communicate as clearly as she can, why can’t she communicate just slightly more clearly so that she can always be fully understood? Rivers struggles to interpret her messages and then goes about doing good deeds. Now I’m not one to turn down seeing someone do good, but this little heroism seems to be the focal point of the story, and on the narrative level, it doesn’t lead anywhere. It merely advances the plot into further, darker strangeness.

If the weirdness had stopped there, it would have been chewable, but these accidents are really being caused by evil spirits who are angry that humans have been interfering with the affairs of the dead. Hold on. How is listening to the dead interfering? Why is it any more interference than the séance, which is actually more interference, but is apparently ok with the evil spirits.

Rivers eventually gets himself into trouble with the evil sprits, but for some reason, he is utterly unfazed by the imminent danger. Much to his own foolishness they do come after him, resulting in an extraordinarily silly scene wherein he is attacked by spirits. Don’t ask me how they attack him. Here the film officially looses any shred of credibility it might have had, but moving from the realm of possibility to improbability.

White Noise really is an atmospheric piece, but fails to develop the atmosphere it’s looking for. In the end, White Noise never becomes much more interesting than watching one of Rivers’ static-filled TV’s.

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