Girl on the Third Floor is the story of a house that wants to be the Overlook Hotel when it grows up, but this movie is to The Shining what CM Punk’s UFC stint is to his WWE career. A deeply troubled, heavily tattooed former attorney (yeah, right) named Don Koch (Punk) is seeking a fresh start.

He buys a dilapidated old house in a Chicago suburb; a fixer-upper meant to provide him and his pregnant wife, Liz (Trieste Kelly Dunn), with a new home — before that, though, he moves in by himself to singlehandedly renovate the place, and learns from his new neighbors that the house has a sordid past.

Soon, Don begins to experience supernatural events in the premises. One of those aforementioned neighbors is a bartender (or, judging from dialogue such as the following, a barfly) who asks Don “Are you a [expletive deleted]? … That house seems to be bad news for straight men”; as it turns out, it’s even worse luck for straightedged men.

Don is of course identical to Punk, which means he has all the same tattoos, including a huge one on his abdomen that says Straight Edge. According to Wikipedia, “Straight edge … is a subculture of hardcore punk whose adherents [including Punk himself] refrain from using alcohol, tobacco, and other recreational drugs … For some, this extends to refraining from engaging in promiscuous sex, to following a vegetarian or vegan diet, and to not using caffeine or prescription drugs.”

Neither director Travis Stevens, nor co-writers Paul Johnstone and Ben Parker, nor Punk himself thought of this simple question: why would a character who drinks alcohol, smokes marijuana, and commits adultery — all of which Don does — have a Straight Edge tattoo? That’s how stupid this movie is.

As for the adultery, it turns out that poor Don is lonely and horny and has to resort to Five-Finger Mary (thankfully, his dog interrupts him; the last thing I want to see is Punk applying the Ananconda Vise on himself). However, another neighbor, Sarah (Sarah Brooks), starts flirting with him, and Don cheats on his wife with her.

After they’ve had sexual congress, Don — to use wrestling lingo — cuts a promo on Sarah (“Look I’m not playing right now. It was a fun night, don’t get me wrong, but I never want to see you here in my house ever again”). Sarah responds by locking Don’s dog in the dryer and turning it on (at least she didn’t cook it and feed it to Don, like the Big Bossman did to Al Snow).

Don attempts a truce, but as soon as Sarah turns her back, he attacks her with a hammer, apparently killing her; he hides the body in the basement. This is a clear symptom of what is wrong with this movie. It has no psychology, which in pro wrestling refers to the process of wrestling a match in such a way that the crowd becomes emotionally involved; this requires acting skills and a good understanding of dramatic tempo.

For example, in a submission match, you don’t start applying locks from the very beginning; rather, you start working on a part of the opponent’s body, softening it up first. But in GotTF, Punk goes from zero to Patrick Bateman in five seconds flat.

By the time Liz finally shows up in the flesh, the house is going full on Shining. Liz finds an old newspaper describing how the house used to be an illegal brothel and how a girl had disappeared and never been found. Sarah greets her in, claiming to be Don’s assistant. Liz goes to the attic and has a vision of the house’s past: wealthy clients who gather to watch a sadomasochistic show involving a masked man and Sarah.

In the end, another neighbor, Ellie (Karen Woditsch), tries unsuccessfully to make some sense of everything we have witnessed by spouting some claptrap about “rules”. Lady, the rules are introduced at the beginning of the game, not at the end; otherwise what we have is anarchy.

Additionally, Ellie tells Liz; “You did well”. Whatever she did, though — and I haven’t the foggiest what it was because the movie can’t be bothered to clarify it —, she did it wrong because the film ends with the obligatory shot suggesting that the evil will continue.

Girl on the Third Floor is as bad as Punk’s UFC debut — if only it were as short —, and the not-so-subtle references to other, superior movies (Nightmare on Elm Street, Hellraiser, Fatal Attraction and oddly, Ghost, or at least I assume that was the idea when they mention something about an “erotic pottery class”) don’t help either. All things considered, the loser of this bout is the audience.