‘River’ makes you scared even as it makes you think

Pop songwriters know there are really only about five chord progressions that matter. It’s all in how you cobble it together and massage the heart of the subject matter.

One of the most fun things about "The River," ABC’s Hawaii-filmed series that premieres Tuesday, is identifying those trends in popular culture that were tossed into the stew.

It’s very much a right-now project, although not desperately so. The mojo pretty much works on all levels, from a spooky gut-level scarefest up to an intriguing puzzle that has clues scattered like crumbs. Left brain, right brain, heart and nerves, it all clicks as a canny, compulsively watchable mystery.

It’s the first post-"Lost" show that captures some of that immersive magic. (Forget Fox’s "Alcatraz" — so far there’s no arc beyond creep-of-the-week to justify its high concept, and "Terra Nova," also Fox, is way too episodic and family-comfy.) Let’s just hope the story arc of "The River" justifies its setup.

The situation: Beloved television nature host Emmet Cole, played by veteran actor Bruce Greenwood (think Steve Irwin, the "Crocodile Hunter"), has gone missing in an obscure corner of the globe ("Lost").

His TV producers bankroll a search by his family, but only if every second of internecine drama can be committed to tape ("Big Brother," "Real World," "Jersey Shore" and, frankly, every reality show ever made), and the entire thing is handled as lost videotape being viewed in retrospect ("The Blair Witch Project," "Paranormal Activity").

It seems real because the filming styles mirror what we know of sloppy or not-perfect footage (the Zapruder and Rodney King footage and almost anything on YouTube), and the filmmakers know that what is not seen on the "found footage" is all the more frightening ("Cloverfield," "Ghost Hunters") because it’s our imagination that’s being goosed, thanks to the reaction shots of those caught on film. So, we wind up watching the screen more intently than we usually do, seeking clues.

What’s in those dark shadows beyond the light? It’s a reaction as old as hearing monsters growl in the night beyond the glow of our campfires.

I credit (or blame) Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant. Their low-budget British sitcom "The Office" and its American spinoff had as its central conceit the notion that regular folks were being filmed by a documentary camera crew.

This deconstruction of angle rapidly blossomed as a trending filmic style that completely erased the proscenium "fourth wall" between audience and subject. Instead of a camera’s view of the proceedings, it became our own and created a new visual and storytelling rhythm that was more intimate and inclusive.

We’re not watching a scene, we’re in the scene, and when a character speaks, he speaks directly to us, not an "audience."

"The River" touches all those buttons, and does so brilliantly, based on the first couple of episodes. It’s simple but it’s not stupid, and the clues dropped are intriguing enough to analyze. Which means you’re both on the edge of your seat, spooked, and also leaning back, thinking. Pretty good trick.