Death Dreams is a bad dream that even Marg Helgenberger couldn't end. The direction and flow here are so exquisitely off that this film can be viewed as three distinct segments. Firstly, family tragedy with obvious evil stepfather - mwahaha! (Christopher Reeves); secondly, the introduction of parapsychologist - "my dear... my dear" (Fionnula Flanagan, complete with non-credible accent); then finally, a bizarre murder court case based on very little physical evidence, which at times seems to test the audience's suspension of disbelief more than the jurors. Tacked-on is a just-desserts ending which comes as no surprise, but rather a predictable narrative duty. Dare we get into the unsuitable use of first-person-perspective lens shots? What about the film's relentless desire to be cute despite the dire subject matter of little girl drowned? Now, all of this might sound like a lot's going on, but this one's a mess. The story is likely to elicit more groans than fascination and The X Files subsequently used this whispers from the dead trope multiple times with more effectiveness. Marg, do wake me up, I'm having a bad dream.

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