Hoot. Devil wears a linen suit. And this stubbled fella resides in a cosy slum, looks uber glum as if he’s about to explode terrorist “bums”. But supernaturally, he’s much feared.

Or maybe he’s just weird. The least publicised factor of the Vikram Bhatt-directed Raaz 3, the devil’s on the move in a franchise in which anything ghosts. No connection with the first two parts at all. After all, it’s just the branded title of the Bhatt Bros which sells in the market, whether the secret biz is set in diaphonous becurtained Goregaon rooms, Europe or Mauritius. G.P. Sippy had once produced a whodunit with Rajesh Khanna-Babita titled Raaz (1967) till it was used again by the B Brothers, and again, and then again. Pain.

Anyway Vikram Bhatt as a director can either be very focused (even in shot takings) or indifferent. From the look of things, he doesn’t seem to have expended much time, energy and — what’s the good word? — passion into this project. When a director doesn’t insist on the basics — like at least a few passers-by or bystanders — in hospital corridors, movie studio lots and five-star restrooms, it’s clear that he doesn’t care if the audience’s intelligence is being insulted. Most spots are as empty here as the Sahara desert. Worse, he also insults the intelligence of all the characters populating the plot: not sufficient motivation for anyone to go grisly-’n’-ghastly. Ergo when dear Mr Hashmi says, “All this is so silly,” dearer Ms Basu retorts, “Yeaahhhhh, so get silly for me.” Quite.

Sure, suspension of disbelief is mandatory. At the same time, the script has to be compact, brisk, without raising the question: why-why-why? Like the very idea of a popular heroine getting murderous on losing out an award to a girl-come-lately, is flimsy. Magazines which present film trophies annually should rejoice though… because all stars pretend that they don’t care a flying fig for awards. Be that as it may, if the Bhatts and writer Shagufta Rafique are to be believed, losing out an award is serious business. Shudder.

Result: Out stomps the award-challenged lady usually in black (Bipasha Basu). She acquires a vial of nightmare-inducing water and seduces her director boyfriend (Emraan Hashmi) to poison her arch-rival, a smiling wonder (Esha Gupta). This black magic water has to be consumed slowly but very surely. Indeed, director saab narrates the story in a voice-over just like he did in The Dirty Picture. Repetition, repetition, Mr Hashmi, not nice.

Next: That “jadu tona” water brings forth frightmares of scaly hands, cute clowns, flying golden cockroaches, smashing bricks, gaga ghosts and assorted creepy-crawlies. So far, so cool. Lady in Black’s pleased, but not so the director. With his incorrigible penchant for tasting lips (etc), he beds Ms Smiling Wonder. No more poisoning business, he launches a mutiny. Ummm. Turns out that the two heroines are actually step-sisters, but no one knows that. The gossip press is not going to like this. Aha, deprived of her papa’s love as well as an award, Lady’s just about to break into a boringly choreographed item number, besides warning Director saab, “You quit following my orders and I’ll show her your dirty pictures.” You even see one of these in close-up, revealing more quilt than skin. Heh heh, this is getting funny.

Inevitably, Devil in Linen Suit resurfaces and much religiosity is invoked (a bait for single-screen viewers according to the trade commandments). Bits and pieces of this boo-grader might throw you back to the American TV series Supernatural, Creepshow and Entity.

If you’re still in your seat, it’s essentially for the stray scary 3D effect, the scream blasts, and Bipasha Basu who goes at her part like a starving person offered a club sandwich. Her role is abbreviated sadly; it could have been way more fleshed out, but whenever given the opportunity to break into dramatic high-jinks, she makes Emraan Hashmi look like a schoolboy. Esha Gupta, if she has dubbed her own dialogue, is quite okay. Manish Choudhary as the Linen Devil, is sufficiently kureeepy.

For a Bhatt-Hashmi enterprise, the music by Rashid Khan and Jeet Ganguly is a dead-loss. A pity that because those slurpy liplocks without a catchy Sufiana Hashmi song can be a punishment. Give our kissing champ a break really.

At the end of two hours, you’re left with the feeling that Raaz 3 could have done with a tighter grip in the storytelling, at least one chartbuster track and better art direction (every house seems to have the billowing lace curtains). The top saving grace happens to be Bipasha Basu. Way to go, lady.