Korean cinema is certainly in vogue at the moment, not least thanks to the works of Park Chan-wook (the Vengeance trilogy) and Bong Joon-ho (Memories of Murder and the upcoming The Host), whose films are frankly wiping the floor with their western equivalent, if they can be said to have an equivalent. Korean horror has also made itself known, with films such as Whispering Corridors, Phone and A Tale of Two Sisters finding an audience beyond the domestic market, although we still await the Korean-made horror film that has the widespread impact of (or frankly is as scary as) the best that Japan or Hong Kong have to offer.

Joining the horror line-up is first-time director Woo-cheol Lee's Cello, very much in the tradition of the J-Horror works of recent years and especially those that borrow from their predecessors. The borrowing itself is not really an issue – the later films in any genre or sub-genre are going to owe a dept to the pioneers, and we rarely see westerns criticised for including elements that were successfully used in Stagecoach, or vampire movies chastised for the influence of Bram Stoker and Bela Lugosi. But in these days of second-hand cinema, where just about everything worthwhile is being remade or ripped off, my sensitivity to the recycling process has been heightened. If you're going to lift ideas from other movies, well OK, but make damned sure you do something interesting and/or original with it.

Cello (the Korean title is the longer Chello hongmijoo ilga salinsagan, which I gather translates as Cello: A Song of Murder) certainly builds on a solid if well-used foundation. Mi-ju is a cellist turned music teacher who lives with her loving husband, two young daughters, and her soon-to-be-married sister. The arrival of a speechless housekeeper taken on by her husband as a favour to a friend seems to trigger a series of increasingly sinister events, all pointing back to something in Mi-ju's past that even her husband is unaware of, and that she has tried her best to forget.

The plot device of old sins that come back to (literally) haunt the present has proved a popular one in modern horror cinema but has still a few miles left on its clock. There are hints of a troubling but unspecified past event from the start, with flashbacks to a serious accident and wrist scars that clearly have a tale to tell, but full disclosure is, as you'd expect, both a long time coming and not quite what we are first led to believe. More than once we are (with varying degrees of success) misdirected as to the cause of Mi-ju's woes, with one instance of seeming possession rationally explained as the dazed result of a romantic bust-up, only for supernatural forces to pop up anyway and dispatch the unfortunate victim. As the incidents and bodies pile up, the demands on your concentration increase, and you'll need to pay close attention if you don't want to find yourself floundering in "what the hell is going on?" territory. At a time in which many western genre films are dumbed down to the point of idiocy, any film that expects its audience to do a little work to join the narrative dots has to be seen as a good thing. And when prepared to stand on its own feet, Cello tells its story well, aided by decent performances and an effective music score.

However...

Although it is inevitable that any new film made in the J-Horror tradition is going to be influenced by previous genre successes, director Lee takes this a step too far by explicitly lifting ideas and even scenes from the horror hall of fame. The Omen proves a particularly rich source of cinematic nibbles, from the sinister housekeeper, to the child who can silence a dog with single look, to the deaths by hanging and falling from a balcony. Hideo Nakata's Ringu is similarly plundered, its most iconic and repeated image of the eye of the avenging ghost girl in huge close up making its unsurprising appearance, and its now famous climax reproduced with a picture frame standing in for TV. Two particularly memorable sequences from Takashi Shimizu's Ju-On are lifted and combined, as a sleeping Mi-ju is caressed by a floating black cloud and on waking is terrorised by a demonic female face beneath her bed-covers.

These cinematic crutches can't help but suggest a lack of confidence on the part of either Lee or the studio, as if the inclusion of imagery and ideas that have worked before would act as safety net for their own material. For anyone who knows their J-Horror, though (and let's face it, that's where Cello's core audience will be), the reverse proves true, as you find yourself groaning and ticking off the movies that have been recycled – my girlfriend, who is well versed in Eastern horror, was actually shouting at the TV in places.

The thing is, Cello doesn't need this. Nestling comfortably behind the borrowings is a well thought-out and effectively developed film, not particularly original or, it has to be said, as scary as it should be, but once Lee gets down to doing his own thing it works pretty damned well, and it's this material that makes the film worth seeing. Although it could be argues that those new to Eastern horror will not suffer the same sense of déjà-vu, I would still recommend they seek out the originals first and give credit where its due. But Cello is still a well made and atmospheric piece and bodes well for director Lee's future projects, whatever they may be.

The packaging claims an aspect ratio of 1.77:1 but my measurements make it closer to 1.82:1. The picture is anamorphically enhanced and is in better shape than a fair few UK DVDs of Eastern horror films, with decent sharpness and contrast, even in the darker scenes and earthy tinted interiors, which are pleasingly free of compression artefact assaults. The odd dust spot is visible, but the print is otherwise clean.

Three soundtracks are on offer: Dolby 2.0 stereo, 5.1 surround and DTS surround, and as you'd expect, the 5.1 and DTS tracks are the only way to go. The surrounds are well used, though the shock moments tend to be aurally fuelled by the same one-note blasts you'll find in almost any Eastern horror doing the rounds at the moment.

The Making Of Featurette (36:10), unlike the one on the recently released Inner Senses DVD, does feature a variety of behind-the-scenes footage, including two scenes of blood-letting, the actresses laughing their way through a cello playing sequence, and the green screen set-up for an death scene in which actress Da-an Park expresses her desire to "die with charisma." There's also some press conference footage in which the director and actors talk about working on the film.

The Trailer (1:49) presents the film as part of an ongoing horror style and tradition and give s a tad too much away for my liking.

A decently made and acted Eastern horror that would have registered higher in my estimation if the filmmakers had left the contents of the recycling bin alone. It's still definitely worth checking out, although those most sympathetic to this style of horror film are also the ones most likely to recognise the second-hand material. Tartan's DVD does rather well on picture and very well on sound, even if the extra features are a tad light.