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I Revisited the 2005 Remake of ‘The Amityville Horror’ and It Wasn’t as Bad as I Remembered

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In April of 2005, I and a couple of friends went to the movie theater for the opening night of Platinum Dunes’ remake of the 1979 supernatural horror film The Amityville Horror. I’d seen the original a few times prior to the remake being released and I’d read a few of the books, so I had a serious interest in seeing what director Andrew Douglas and writer Scott Kosar (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Machinist) came up with.

For some reason, I remember being seriously disappointed by the film. I remember thinking that it wasn’t scary, that it didn’t have much of an impact, and that it was an overall unnecessary remake. Since then, I largely ignored it and its existence, passing it over whenever I stumbled across it at the rental store or, later on in life, on various streaming platforms.

But something clicked in me the other day and I suddenly got a hankering to revisit the 112 Ocean Avenue and the Lutz family. I found myself wondering if maybe I was too harsh on the film upon its release. Maybe I was just a dumb 20 year old who wanted to be “hard” and “badass” when it came to horror flicks, not willing to admit that something got under my skin.

I don’t know why but the Lutz story and haunted house films in general creep me out. Therefore, I decided to hop on Netflix and pop on The Amityville Horror to see if I still had as many issues with it or if I was feeling a bit more forgiving. The answer is…both.

We all know the basic story by now, right? The Lutz family, George, Kathy, Billy, Michael, and Chelsea (the names of the children were changed for the movie) as well as Harry the dog, all move into 412 Ocean Avenue (they couldn’t use the real address for legal reasons) and begin experiencing weird shit. Doors opening and closing by themselves, chairs moving for no reason, strange smells, cold spots, weird voices, and more, all plagued the Lutz family for 28 days before they fled in terror, unable to withstand the

The film isn’t poorly made, by any stretch of the imagination. It looks beautiful and there is some damn fine practical FX work throughout. In fact, the amount of CGI is kept to a minimum, only for a few select moments where there isn’t any other way to accomplish the shot. There’s also the creepy basement, which, historical architecture be damned, is a place I’d love to have in my home…minus the prisoner ghosts, of course.

Ryan Reynolds plays George pretty damn well here, although there are still little elements of who we expect Reynolds to be coming forth in his performance. It’s not overwhelming though and it’s obvious that he put a lot of effort into NOT playing himself. However, that final, “You’ll have to kill me!” bit was pretty awful. Melissa George plays a charming Kathy Lutz who starts out somewhat meek and playful but becomes much more determined and resolute as the film progresses. The kids are fine although it should be said that Chloë Grace Moretz did very well as Chelsea. I’ll also say that I wish a bit more had been done with Father Callaway’s character as he basically sat and listened to Kathy, came to the house, ran away, told them to leave, and…well, that’s it. It was the bare minimum that was needed for his character, which simply felt lazy.

What’s interesting about this movie is that some of its weaknesses are also its greatest strengths. Nearly every haunted house ghost cliché is used at some point or another. Flickering lightbulbs? Check. Ghosts in the mirror? Check. Blood dripping from somewhere it shouldn’t? Check. It’s all very routine stuff yet the film openly and unabashedly flaunts them, shoving them so hard into your face that it’s rather impressive how much they believe each scare is going to be a winner. And yet what is most interesting is that the jump scares, of which there are FAR too many, are hit or miss while the times when the movie adds to the story and begins peeling back the horror behind the scenes is when it’s at its most effective.

An annoying aspect is that the house is supposed to be the most haunted part of the film but because of the way it was set up we, the audience, find ourselves more on the lookout for the ghost of young DeFeo girl Jodie as well as who I assume to be Reverend Jeremiah Ketcham, the evil preacher that tortured and slaughtered Native Americans in the 17th century in the cellar of that same house. So, instead of thinking that the house is the biggest threat to the Lutzes, I found myself looking for a shadow of a ghost, which isn’t what scares me. If the environment is against the family, then I feel fear. This wasn’t the case.

Overall, I enjoyed revisiting the remake. It’s not fantastic by any stretch of the imagination but it’s done with the right intentions and it won’t be a wasted 90 minutes of your day. But more importantly, it was a chance for me to recognize that I remembered not liking something and then telling myself, “Maybe time has changed that. Do yourself a favor and don’t live in a state of dislike, hate, or anything negative without giving something a second chance. You’ve changed, so maybe how you view it has too.

Hopefully many of you will try that with something you remember not enjoying in the past but might find pleasure in now. And even if you don’t, at least you tried and that means something.

Managing editor/music guy/social media fella of Bloody-Disgusting

Editorials

‘The Company of Wolves’ at 40: One of the Most Underrated Werewolf Movies Ever Made

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There’s a compelling idea in anthropology that many ancient werewolf legends are derived from our species’ need to rationalize the more animalistic side of humanity – which is why lycanthropy has historically been used to explain everything from medieval serial killers to cannibalism. While I personally think there’s a lot more to unpack when it comes to tales of wolfmen and women, this is still a great example of why so many of our most enduring fairy tales involve big bad wolves.

And in the world of film, I think there’s only one feature that really nails the folkloric origins of werewolf stories, namely Neil Jordan’s 1984 fairy-tale horror classic, The Company of Wolves. Even four decades later, there’s no other genre flick that comes close to capturing the dreamlike ambience behind this strange anthology, and that’s why I’d like to take this opportunity to look back on one of the most underrated werewolf flicks ever made.

The Company of Wolves was originally a short story contained in the 1979 anthology The Bloody Chamber, a collection of deconstructed fairy-tales intended for mature readers penned by English author Angela Carter. With the book quickly becoming a hit as readers became fascinated with its subversion of classic folk stories and (then) controversial feminist undertones, it was soon transformed into a duology of BBC radio-dramas which adapted both The Company of Wolves and Carter’s reimagining of Puss-in-Boots.

These radio-dramas soon attracted the attention of then up-and-coming Irish filmmaker Neil Jordan, who decided to meet with Carter to discuss expanding on her stories and bringing them to life on the big screen. The duo soon realized that a single short story wasn’t enough material for a feature-length film, so they decided to adapt all of Carter’s werewolf tales into a single anthology.

With a completed script and a $2.3 million budget, Jordan decided to tackle the project like a hybrid between a theatrical period drama and a schlocky monster movie. Effects-heavy creature features were a hot commodity back in the ’80s, with films like The Howling and An American Werewolf in London proving that there was an audience for horrific lycanthrope transformations, so the director soon recruited a team that could turn this odd collection of feminist folk stories into something commercially viable.

Not exactly a great pick for family movie night.

Shooting would eventually take place almost entirely within the England-based Shepperton Studios, with notable production designer Anton Furst (who would later be known for his work on Tim Burton’s Batman films) helping to bring Jordan’s vision of a darkly romantic fairy-tale world to life. Appropriately enough, production would also involve a real pack of trained wolves (as well as a collection of dyed dogs), though extensive puppetry and animatronics were also used to flesh out the more gruesome parts of the flick.

After a grueling nine-week shoot where budgetary constraints led to corners being cut on props and costumes, The Company of Wolves was finally released in September of 1984 – just in time for spooky season. In the finished film, we follow the strange dreams of a sulky teenage girl named Rosaleen (first-time actress Sarah Patterson) as the film unravels an Arabian-Nights-inspired tapestry of both familiar and not-so-familiar stories about big bad wolves.

From sexually charged cautionary tales to parables about female empowerment, this surreal collection of deranged bedtime stories is much more than the creature feature that the marketing initially suggested. Like a more horror-oriented version of Jim Henson’s Labyrinth, The Company of Wolves exudes that same kind of hormonal teenage energy that transports us back to a time when the world was both scary and exciting in equal measure.

That’s not to say that this is an entirely pleasant experience, however, and I’m not just talking about the film’s horror elements. A big portion of the flick’s overtly sexual moments involve the then 13-year-old Patterson coming to grips with her blossoming womanhood and the dangers of predatory men (usually marked with a humorous unibrow), something that naturally makes for some intentionally uncomfortable viewing – especially in the year of our lord 2024.

Obviously, I don’t think it’s my place to dissect (or even judge) the effectiveness of the film’s commentaries on being a young woman, but even as a man I can still appreciate the thought and care that went into crafting this Jungian cocktail of serious themes in a genre-movie package that almost certainly went on to inspire future werewolf movies like Ginger Snaps.

Not the worst wedding I’ve been to.

That being said, what really keeps me coming back to the film is the absurd amount of memorable imagery. From a wedding party being taken over by canines to lonely treks through snowy groves, this is exactly the gloomy world I imagined as a child when reading Grimms’ Fairy Tales – and the dreamy atmosphere is only enhanced by the movie’s overall theatricality.

This also extends to the effects, as it’s easy to forgive decapitated dummy heads and ripped rubber skin when everything is happening in a magical hyper-reality, with a great example of this is being the scene where Grandma’s head unexpectedly explodes like a porcelain doll when it’s knocked off by a wolfman. That’s not to say that the effects are bad, as several of these transformations are downright grisly and likely influenced future lycanthrope effects like those in Underworld and even Trick ‘r Treat (even if the wolf-dogs here often look more cute than scary).

Of course, these aren’t the only things that The Company of Wolves has going for it, as the main trio of Patterson, Micha Bergese and the late, great Angela Lansbury exceptionally bring these exaggerated caricatures to life and the orchestral score is an absolute delight. I also really get a kick out of that bizarre ending implying that the dangers of adult life have literally come crashing into Rosaleen’s bedroom.

The Company of Wolves may not be a perfect film, suffering from some wonky pacing and the classic anthology problem where some stories are clearly much more enjoyable than others, but I’d argue that the flick’s iconic visuals and powerful thematic throughline more than make up for any minor flaws. And while we’ve seen bigger and better werewolf films since then, when it comes to adult-oriented fairy-tales, this is one psycho-sexual journey that is still worth revisiting 40 years down the line.

The Company of Wolves

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