When researching this film; the only picture of the film’s director I could find was that of a mugshot for an arrest in 2000 on some indecency charges. That seems about right. The feeling I got from this throughout is that it was made by someone who used to draw little cartoons of stick figures dying in horrific ways during arts and crafts. And while I would pass a similar judgement on the people who make Saw, at the very least they don’t do what this film does and try to dress itself up as actual art.
Dr. Sonny Blake, a radio psychologist, moves back to her old home after her abusive father dies. Soon after arriving, she hears stories of the psychotic paperboy, and is drawn into a cruel game of psychological cat-and-mouse with him. In case you missed it, the key would is psychological. This film plumbs the depths of psychological disturbances in the true way only someone who had skimmed the Wikipedia page for ten minutes could have managed. And frankly, the killer paperboy routine doesn’t really inspire much confidence either.
The remainder of Rosewood Lane is filled out with extensive, drawn out scenes in which our heroine suffers or violence is inflicted terribly in some way; in a truly banal sort of way that makes you feel like this really does something for someone somewhere, but for any reasonably normal person, its one step above the sort of thing you have the police investigate you on if they find it on your computer.
Avoid this film.