A screenwriter rents a 5-bedroom manor from some chick who is eager to inform him that an ax is available in the shed and he doesn't seem to have a problem with that. Then she informs him that there's an old, blind tenant living on the 3rd floor, and this again doesn't seem to bother him because that isn't at all outlandish, suspicious, or familiar to any other horror film ever, and I begin to doubt he is in fact a screenwriter.
Strangely enough, about 5 minutes into the movie the screenwriter abandons his work to stare at dead bugs and unfortunate taxidermy, and about 8 minutes in he enjoys a just-barely-qualifying-as-important-to-the-plot beach montage with a dreary soundtrack. The love interest appears at the 12-minute mark, and I wish I could go back in time 12 minutes and not start this movie, as the two have a creepy meet-cute at the local treehouse, and the cameraman makes an appearance a minute later in the reflection of some framed art. In between tedious romantic interludes, the screenwriter walks about in bikini briefs and a short purple robe, and some unseen ghostly DJ starts spinning the hits. Then the ghost writes the word 'murder' in fake blood on the bathroom mirror, and the screenwriter has some poorly-focused shaky-cam problems with a continuity-defying bathroom door latch. Meanwhile, the tenant upstairs is never seen even though she supposedly sits by the window, and I'm assuming she never eats or uses the bathroom. The Last House On Cemetery Lane doesn't seem to make a lot of sense, and it has absolutely no cemeteries in it.