Perfect Stranger is one of those utterly anonymous titles — evocative in its own way and yet suitable enough to be applied to any number of situations. It’s also one letter removed from the TV sitcom that originated in the mid-’80s, as well as a handful of peeping-Tom-type straight-to-video erotic thrillers, and another definite article away from a Danielle Steele novel and any number of television movies. This Perfect Stranger, though, stars Halle Berry and Bruce Willis, so it’s hardly some nameless piece of cinematic junk mail with no expectation attached. No, rather, this movie is sort of like discovering that an old friend has placed you on a spam mailing list.

a Senator who’s a little too friendly with same-sex Congressional pages gets killed by her higher-ups, Rowena quits in a piquant moment of anger, and goes freelance. When a childhood friend who was having an affair with married advertising executive Harrison Hill (Willis) suddenly turns up murdered, Rowena smells her next big story, and starts sussing out the truth with a dogged determination.

Thanks to her tech-savvy associate, Miles Haley (Giovanni Ribisi), Rowena gains access to Grace’s email account, and learns that Grace was threatening to go to Hill’s wife with news of their affair. Armed with that knowledge, Rowena then goes undercover as a temp at Hill’s agency, while also concocting an online chat personality as a former office mate, an almost-paramour of Hill’s. In exposing Hill’s secrets, though, Rowena discovers some surprises about Grace, Miles — who nurses a crush on Rowena that’s blindingly apparent to or acknowledged by all but her — and her own on-again/off-again boyfriend, Cameron (Gary Dourdan), leaving her uncertain of whom to trust or what the real story is.

M. Night Shyamalan may have inadvertently ruined most mass-market thrillers when he explained his writing style, in the wake of the mega-success of 1999’s The Sixth Sense, thusly: “I just think of a twist, and then I don’t reveal it until the end.” That seems simple enough, but the manner in which that sort of backwards-thinking logic has been sluggishly applied to a seemingly increasing number of Hollywood genre pieces has resulted in some truly awkward and awful movies, including this spring’s The Number 23 and Premonition. Scripted by Todd Kormarnicki, from a story by Jon Bokenkamp, Perfect Stranger seems wholly engineered in reverse. There’s the requisite twist, all right, but it’s so derisible in the leaps of logic and escalating complexity that it requires that you’ll be less shocked, and more head-shakingly amused at the whole thing.

Housed in a regular Amray plastic case that comes with a cardboard slipcover of a heavily airbrushed Berry glancing alluringly over her left shoulder, Perfect Stranger is presented in 2.40:1 anamorphic widescreen, which preserves the aspect ratio of its original theatrical presentation. English and French subtitles complement dual Dolby digital 5.1 soundtracks that adequately capture the movie’s aural design, which is actually fairly thoughtful and smartly used in a few scenes, with eerie office atmospherics (like lightly humming lights and electronics) adding a thin sheen of tension to proceedings. A gallery of preview trailers for other Sony releases is complemented by the disc’s only supplemental extra, a 12-minute making-of featurette consisting of brief interview snippets with cast and crew. To purchase the film via Amazon, click here. D (Movie) C- (Disc)

Kate Beckinsale). The pair’s marriage is busted up, and through a thicket of bitter bickering (David attacks Amy’s “Zoloft-and-Prozac cocktail”) they’re returning from one last trip together before finalizing their divorce. When their car breaks down, the duo end up at a creepy motel with an oddball manager named Mason (Frank Whaley, sporting serial killer Aviator glasses and a little, up-combed pompadour that’s an apparent tribute to Sam Rockwell).

The couple resign themselves to a tense and uncomfortable night together, but no sooner do they acquaint themselves with the characteristically ratty details of a rundown room (natty bedcovers, brown water trickling from the faucet) than they hear frantic banging from the room next door. When it continues and they complain about the noise to Mason, he informs the Foxes that they’re the motel’s only guests. Seeking to unwind, David pops an unmarked videotape in the VCR, and discovers a snuff film shot in the very room they’re in. Figuring correctly that they’re next on the victim list, David and Amy try to escape, but quickly find out that their jumpsuit-sporting captors are toying with them in an attempt to further ratchet up the couple’s panic and increase the sadistic appeal of their puppet-master production.

Having similarly wrung tension from confined locations in Control (Hungary’s entry a few years back for Best Foreign Language Film, and a movie set almost entirely on the Budapest subway system), director Nimrod Antal locates some primal, gut-level reactions to darkness, jarring noise, faceless killers and the like. He’s aided by leering camerawork from cinematographer Andrzej Sekula (Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs) that makes heavy use of close-ups. The film’s violence-for-entertainment’s-sake angle feels a bit hollow, though that’s admittedly the equivalent of criticizing a shark. Where things come apart, though, is in the movie’s final third, which leans heavily on arbitrariness.

Housed in a regular Amray case with a crisply photographed accompanying cardboard slipcover, Vacancy is presented in both full screen and 2.40:1 anamorphic widescreen. Owing to that fact — and the inclusion of a dozen preview trailers, for films like Hostel: Part II, Revolver, Perfect Stranger, Bobby Z and the forthcoming 30 Days of Night — the interface is awfully slow-moving. Subtitles come in English and French, and the movie’s Dolby digital 5.1 soundtrack is a solid one. Supplemental extras consist of a 90-second tracking shot alternate opening for the film (including a helicopter, a big budget eater), as well as another snipped scene involving a raccoon. There’s also nine full minutes of distressed snuff films — the thrill-kill movies presented within Vacancy — which is a bit unnerving. The big extra, though, is a 21-minute making-of featurette, which includes copious interview snippets with the cast and crew. Writer Mark L. Smith cops to the inspiration being the fact that he and his wife used to own a dude ranch in Colorado open only four months a year, but Glenn Gainor and other producers mainly content themselves with merely re-telling the film’s story, and repeating how great everything is. Admittedly, an audio commentary track would’ve been stretching it here, but more from Antal would have been a plus. C+ (Movie) C+ (Disc)