The more I think about Don’t Breathe, the less I like it.

The story sees a trio of teens burgle a blind man’s dilapidated Detroit home. But the mark proves resourceful, and soon the kids are fighting to escape.

Getting the kids into the house takes forever. We sit through pages of clunky exposition meant to endear the kids to us. It does not.

Once inside, we’re treated to the film’s lone highlight. The kids’ initial encounter with the blind man crackles with palpable tension. I gasped aloud when one character revealed his presence via a creaky floorboard.

Then the plot kicks in, shuffling the characters from one set piece to another with no relatable behavior or convincing motivation. It’s lazy writing run amok.

As time passed, I grew restless. The script ignores the obvious. The man is blind. Grab a hammer, hide behind a door, and brain him. None of the teens try it.

A sense of humor might have saved the movie. But it piles one outlandish plot twist upon another without even a wink toward its own inanity. Even worse, the twists turn downright ugly, proving Don’t Breathe would rather push our buttons than tell a compelling story.