Lee Daniels’ The Redemption is on the one hand a typical and well thought out family drama about a matriarch (Andra Day) who has to juggle family duties, alcoholism and a stormy relationship with her mother (Glenn Close). On the other hand it represents the director’s foray into the supernatural. Here Daniels, the director of kitschy films such as Valuable And The Butlerdeals with ghost stories and draws doctrines from them. It is possible that both narrative strands exist side by side or intertwine harmoniously, and the structure of the film reveals Daniels’ intention for them to influence each other. But The Redemption is too choppy an affair and the mix rarely achieves complete coherence.

Inspired by the true story of LaToya Ammons, an Indiana woman who claimed that evil spirits lurked in her home and possessed her children, Daniels tells the story of Ebony (Day), a single mother who struggles with financial problems and government surveillance in addition to the vengeful forces already mentioned. The film opens on a sweet note in 2011 Pittsburgh, as Ebony and her son Andre (Anthony B. Jenkins) complete their move into a new home. Andre, a young child who feels most comfortable in the presence of his imaginary friends, has just put the finishing touches on a detailed mural that covers the wall of the room he shares with his siblings.

While they prepare, Ebony’s mother Alberta (Close) prays in church with older children Shante (Demi Singleton) and Nate (Caleb McLaughlin). Later scenes show the tensions brewing within the family: Alberta, a recent convert to Christianity, criticizes how Ebony, a former alcoholic, is raising the children. The children, meanwhile, are worn down by their chronic poverty and itinerant lifestyle. The absence of their father – recently sent to war – is felt at the dinner table.

Daniels, working from a screenplay by David Coggeshall and Elijah Bynum, takes his time before introducing any spooky elements. The first half of The Redemption outlines the lives of this family to keep the viewer interested. While Ebony tries to control her temper, Alberta copes with her cancer with weekly chemotherapy sessions. Nate battles local bullies, Andre finds companionship in solitude, and Shante wonders when her father will return home.

The direction is confident, and the scenes are anchored by intimate shots (cinematographer is Eli Arenson) of each family member. Most of the detail is played out in the relationship between Ebony and Alberta. Here, Daniels explores, again in broad but not too brief strokes, the pressures and tensions between a mixed-race daughter and her white mother. On the fringes of this family’s life is Cynthia (Mo’Nique, again working with Daniels), a child welfare worker who is tasked with investigating whether Ebony is abusing her children.

She does, and Daniels presents these moments not as sensational transgressions, but as the disturbing result of generations of trauma. Before Alberta found Jesus, she also abused Ebony. Day, who worked with Daniels on The United States vs. Billie Holidayproves its range again in The Redemption. She doesn’t sand down Ebony’s rough edges with melodramatic physicality, but explores her roughness and finds soft threads in the single mother’s bristly temperament. Day also lives up to the duties of her role as matriarch, giving the other actors a stable anchor for their performances. Here, unlike in other parts of The Redemptionthere is an appearance of cohesion.

The supernatural causes rifts in both Ebony’s family and Daniels’ film. A typical pattern of ghostly presence begins: creaking doors, strange footsteps, a dead crow. Andre begins to speak to someone named Tre, a figure who urges him to commit dastardly deeds. But Daniels has trouble with the pacing here, overestimating our patience for anticipation. Eventually, the demons take over Ebony’s children and the mother desperately needs help. She finds redemption in the Reverend Bernice James (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, brief but effective).

As soon as the evil spirit takes over the story, The Redemption loses the power it has built. The attempt to merge family drama and horror is not nearly as compelling as it could be if Daniels did not resort to cheap effects to visualize the relationship between these bitter spirits and Ebony. His desire to wring explicit meaning from the mother’s experience and push viewers toward a single conclusion inadvertently places The Redemption in the sentimental and disappointingly cartoonish area.