CGI is too abundant these days. The availability of realistic make-up effects have allowed the cheap shocks of “torture porn” flicks to dominate the horror genre for years. When filmmakers are given the budgets and resources to throw any conceivable image up on the screen, like a five-year old kid with the latest Nerf Weapon of Minor Destruction on their hands, they toss restraint out the window. That’s a shame for audiences, because geysers of blood and computer generated abominations of nature aren’t always frightening, and the scares they do deliver often fade within moments. Fortunately, there are still films like “The Vanishing” to remind us that truly effective thrillers often succeed due to the simplest of elements: steady pacing, solid performances, and a creepy musical score.

Remade (poorly) for American audiences in 1993, the original 1988 French/Dutch version of “The Vanishing” is an exercise in calculated, deliberate filmmaking, taking a relatively basic story and telling it with all the methodical skill of a brilliant villain. The film opens with a close shot of an insect amid blades of grass; as the camera pulls back, the first notes of the haunting score mingle with the sounds of a slight breeze and birds chirping, as a highway is slowly revealed. Saskia and Rex are travelling along this road. They are a young Dutch couple on holiday in France, and the long hours of driving have begun to take their toll. Saskia’s cheerful, girlish demeanor has begun to irritate Rex, resulting in a brief fight. At a rest stop, the couple reconciles. Saskia steps inside to make a couple of purchases. Rex never sees her again.

The sudden disappearance of a loved one is a fairly basic set-up, but “The Vanishing” takes a slightly unique approach. Rather than presenting audiences with a whodunit, following Rex as he searches for Saskia’s killer/kidnapper (he doesn’t know which, and for the most part, neither does the audience), the film switches focus and tell us right away just who was involved in Saskia’s fate. The mystery of this movie is not exactly the “who,” but the “what.”

The professor approaches lone women, looking for the perfect spot to snatch a victim. What he plans to do, or why he plans to do is, is the question to be asked. Much of the power of “The Vanishing” relies in leaving such questions unanswered until the very end.

As the villain, Bernard-Pierre Donnadieu delivers a strong performance. His character isn’t exactly a memorable movie monster, but that’s partially the point; he is a madman who blends in perfectly with the rest of us. The most evil act one could imagine someone like him committing is skipping a lecture because he was tired. As he discusses his plans, readers of Poe will be reminded of “The Imp of the Perverse,” the concept which explains why perfectly sane, rational people can be drawn to the most irrational behavior. The way this character’s mind works isn’t just the pop psychology so common in serial killer movies. There’s a disturbing familiarity in his thought processes. It’s not exactly how he thinks that is frightening, it’s simply the extremes he takes himself to.

“The Vanishing” is reminiscent of classic Hitchcock. Relying on genuine suspense instead of gratuitous gore, viewers are treated to an experience that thankfully won’t be forgotten once it’s over.