(Hi, this is B. Alan Orange. Ever since I dove a little too far into this whole Amityville Horror horsesh*t, I’ve been plagued by demons. Mean demons. They play cruel tricks with my heart, and have crushed every bit of emotion held within my soul. My brain’s about to explode, and I just pissed my pants. Literally. Squiggly lines of Oreo-flavored ectoplasm have wrecked every single thought process I could ever hope to muster. My curiosity is made of a wrecked abandoned, and I don’t even remember getting a handjob from this so-called Amityville Whore these wicked Webmaster’s speak of. Still, they want me to write a review about it. Looking at their emailed request caused me to black out. I woke up from a sweaty fever dream only to find that this Alien Hand Syndrome of mine had written, “I just checked my watch, it’s a half-past shove it up your ass time!” As a response. And this so-called review you’ll find below was scrawled across my desktop. I guess it was written by the evil spirit that is currently sharing rent with my brain. Personally, I loved the film…I think. I recently woke up with the words “You love Amityville Horror 2005” scrawled in my foreskin with a razorblade. I don’t remember it hurting. Oh, well. Another day, another scar.)
Amityville Stupid by Evil Spirit
Let’s look at this reasonably. If you walk into your roommate’s bedroom and start waving a cross around, blessing all his sh*t with Holy Water, I don’t care who he/she is, they’re going to get pissed. A fight’s going to break out. Your living sanctity is going to be jeopardized. Seriously. If they’re anything but Christian or Catholic, I bet money they’re not going to want you in their bedroom heaving the dry word of God on their clothes. Why should an “evil” spirit be any different? You’re surprised that they’re pissed off? Give me a break.
Thing is, you can see your roommate. His baldhead glistens in the sun, and his unholy punches smart like a bag of bricks. You can logically explain the pain. Because you can see the source of it. Ghosts, on the other hand, can hide, and scare, and pull all kinds of nasty tricks. So, you get spooked. But really, what it comes down to is, they’re no different than any other thinking force that you might have to live with. You just can’t explain their presence. Are you really shocked that they don’t want you slinging the gospel up in their sh*t? Geez, they, for whatever reason, are stuck on earth. They don’t get to experience heaven. They don’t get the cloudbank suck-off buffet. These haints are stuck in this confined space, and all they have to watch is your dumb, ugly ass act a fool on a daily basis.
Absolutely, they’re going to make some noise.
“Boo-hoo, we moved into this preoccupied house and brought our religion with us. Now the ghosts don’t like us as people.” What did you think was going to happen? I’m sitting here, right now, listening to two born again Christians yip and yap about the most retarded bullsh*t. They’re all but spitting holy water in my face. I’m mad. I’m angry. I want to kill them. I can’t though. I’ll get thrown in jail and fired. Oh, but if I were a real ghost. Think of the sh*t I could do. I’d be way meaner then the evil invisible jerk living in this Amityville dumpwater townhouse.
The Amityville Horror. Oh, boy. What a piece of sh*t. Sure, it starts out scary enough, but it soon turns into one of these mindless freight fests that don’t make a lick of sense. What’s with this Indian Burial Ground bullsh*t? Ketchum never killed and tortured Indians. And the ghost believed to live in the actual house was an Indian Chief. Not some over-aged club kid with a penchant for dressing like Kane. Yeah. They straight up stole this whole storyline from Poltergeist. One and Two. I thought this was supposed to be a remake of the original Amityville Horror. Not a lame tweak of the 1982 Hooper vs. Spielberg epic that still reigns as the best haunted house motion picture to ever grace screens. I mean, sh*t. This movie even steals the kids. They’re exact doppelgangers for the two jigglemutts that got sucked into that TV and into that Tree, respectively.
Sure, it’s easy to call out the little girl because she has blonde hair, but look at the younger kid and his f*cked up lips. Look at his f*cked up face. I had to laugh hysterically ever time this kid came crashing onto the scene. I wanted to see him get eaten. By anything. Just get the ugly little sonvabitch out of my face. Tell me that kid isn’t channeling Robbie Freeling hardcore…
They say this movie’s based on a true story. F*ck them. It’s based on the need and want for money. Nothing more. Maybe some horrible events went down on the real Amityville property purchased by the Lutz family in 1975. We’ll never be quite sure exactly what they were though, especially with all this garbage cluttering up the Internet. Everywhere you turn, there’s a different story about how the supposed hoax actually went down. Why didn’t the jerks in charge of this thing (Michael Bay; anyone?) just make a movie about the Hoax itself? Have a team of skeptical researchers go in there and check it out. Wait, I know why…Because that would have taken brains. That would have taken some sort of thought process. It’s much easier to steal a ton of scenes from a bunch of other movies, and then call them a remake. That’s a slice of layer cake. All yellow and sweet, and ready to bloat the belly.
If I cut off a finger for every movie this film riffs on, I’d have two blood stumps for knuckles. Lets see…We already called out Poltergeist and Poltergeist 2. Then there’s The Shinning, Nightmare on Elm Street, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003), Chapter 2, This Boy’s Life, Drop Dead Fred, The Exorcist, and Saturday the 14th. Just to name a few. Yet, it has very little to do with the original Amityville Horror film, or the book, for that matter. Why even call it a remake? That’s just dumb.
Wait up a sec…
This new revved-up version actually has one really good scene. A classic horror moment, even if it does clock itself a little too closely to that moment when Jack Nicholson breaks through the door and says, “Here’s Johnny!” In the Shinning. Ryan Reynolds terrorizes his stepson with an axe. It’s pretty awesome. Enough said.
Other than that, this whole movie is horsesh*t. I, as a ghost, take offense to it. I would never act this way. I’d be a lot more subtle with my “boos!” and “gotchas”. I feel sorry for the spirits that have to haunt the old stand alone theaters showing this sorry excuse for a horror movie here in these next few weeks.
I truly do.
It’s going to give them a headache. Guaranteed.
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