Finally, a horror thriller served up straight.

No werewolves, Lycans or jerks named Jigsaw.

No "killer who will not die." OK, check that. Hollywood spells money "S-E-Q-U-E-L."

And best of all, no freaking vampires.

But the best you can say about the remake of "The Stepfather," that serial-killer-in-mommy's-bed tingler of 1987, is that it efficiently goes about its business. The suspense is there, but because there's no mystery to this thriller, it's all about how soon the teen (Penn Badgley) will figure out who that creep Mom wants to marry really is, who will believe him and who will have to die because they won't listen to the kid.

We meet the murderer (Dylan Walsh) in a chilling opening-credits sequence, primly shaving, dying his hair, making the coffee and peanut-buttering his toast. The camera pulls back to reveal the bodies of his "family," scattered all around him.

His whole modus operandi is laid out in those credits. He breaks out the shaving kit. And he cancels the newspaper so that it will be days before the bodies are discovered.

Note to readers: DON'T try this at home!

The guy is charming, picking out his next quarry by playing the lonely, lost widower in the supermarket. Susan (Sela Ward) falls under his spell.

"I'm not usually this forward ..."

"I'm not usually this easy," he purrs back.

Next thing you know, buff "problem" son Michael (Badgley) is back from military school, trying to stay out of trouble, trying to size up mom's new beau and spending lots of time with his long-distance girlfriend, Kelly.

A few words about the great Amber Heard are in order. She has eight scenes, by my count. She is in a bikini in four of them (different bikinis). She's in jammie panties in two. And the other two she's in shorts. Her character doubts Michael's suspicions. Darned if I can recall why, as I was waiting to see which bikini she'd wear in her next appearance.

Walsh, of TV's "Nip/Tuck," does "nice with an edge" well. He turns the creepiness on and off, aided by lighting (he physically darkens in a couple of scenes). This guy, going by "David Harris," uses "family" the way politicians do — insistently, fervently and suspiciously. He is almost an idealist, wanting some Christmas-card version of a wife and kids. But he's a little too understanding of people who kill their spouses or children.

"Maybe they disappointed her," he half-whispers when dinner table chat turns to what sounds like the Susan Smith case (mother driving her children into a lake).