Hudson stars as Caroline Ellis, a Jersey girl transplanted to Louisiana, where she takes a job as a hospice worker for a wheelchair-bound stroke victim with only months to live. At least, that's what Violet Devereaux (Rowlands) says about her husband, Ben — played by a bearded, bug-eyed John Hurt, collecting a paycheck for maybe 10 words of dialogue and a frozen look of despair.

As Caroline soon discovers, Ben is more agile, physically and mentally, than his wife has let on. What's in that milky white medicine he drinks every night, anyway?

Despite the Devereauxs' weirdness (mirrors are forbidden in the house, attic doors are locked, etc.), Caroline puts up with it all — she needs the money, and feels the need to honor her commitment. Now and then, she drives her cute red VW back to the city to see her friend, Jill (the beautiful Joy Bryant). And then there's the Devereauxs' estate attorney, Luke (Peter Sarsgaard), who seems like an amiable fellow, dropping by on occasion to check on his clients and their caregiver.

Directed by Iain Softley from a screenplay by Ehren Kruger, "The Skeleton Key" has nice touches: The soundtrack, with old Southern blues, Cajun stomps, Mozart and Presley, is dark and evocative; the old plantation home groans and creaks with more panache than some of the cast; and the cinematography and set design are suitably creepy — but also full of the color and eccentricity of its swampy, rundown environs.

Hudson skulks around in her PJs, gripping her flashlight fiercely and showing both pluck and fear. She makes for a pretty good heroine in distress — until the distress, which involves brick dust, chalk marks, blood, hair and various witchcraft-y totems, gets the better of her.