My quick rating – 2.6/10. Move over, haunted dolls, creepy nuns, and cursed videotapes. Amityville Vibrator brings you what The Conjuring never had the balls (or battery life) to tackle: a possessed pleasure device with a thirst for souls and a flying talent rivaling 1950s UFO footage.
Clocking in at a merciful 66 minutes, this film starts with a bang, literally. A woman gets down to business in the opening scene, giving you zero time to wonder if this is softcore, horror, or a bizarre mashup of both. Then BOOM—her head is blasted off with a shotgun, and you realize: no, this isn’t just porn with a plot. It’s porn without one. I caught the extended version so those extra 3 minutes were well spent.
Cathy (Corella Waring), our poor, tragically curious protagonist, moves into a house with a tragic lack of spiritual cleansing and immediately finds herself under the spell of a demonic sex toy found at a garage sale. Instead of getting possessed like a normal person in a horror movie, Cathy just gets… busy. Meanwhile, the vibrator zips through the air like it’s auditioning for Poltergeist: After Dark, with visible strings and all the grace of a drunk drone. And it gets weirder.
Enter the evil marionette henchman, complete with full frontal felt and a puppet penis that no one asked for. He (it?) engages in what is, I guess, technically “doll-on-woman action,” making it the weirdest thing you’ll see all week—unless you accidentally fall into a dark corner of eBay at 3am.
The gore is low budget but enthusiastic, like the filmmakers found a box of fake intestines at a garage sale and said, “We’re using all of these. Every. Single. One.” Kudos to James and Amanda Bell for trying to class up the joint with some creative practical effects. Shame it’s in service of a movie where the climax (pun intended) involves Satanic bondage and bloody rituals that look like they were staged in someone’s basement because they probably were.
The script? Let’s just say it exists. Kind of. It ends on what I think was meant to be an artsy note, but it lands somewhere between “student film” and “accidental camera left on.”
But hey—I laughed. Sometimes on purpose. And if you, like me, are tragically compelled to witness every entry under the wildly abused Amityville name, this is… technically one of them. You’ll get boobs, blood, and baffling choices. No trailer needed (or available). Just a strong stomach, a dark sense of humor, and the ability to explain your viewing habits to absolutely no one.
Final Verdict: Amityville Vibrator is like watching a cursed adult toy adaptation of Puppet Master with nudity that outpaces the plot by a solid 6-to-1 ratio. It’s not good. It’s barely coherent. But it’s certainly… unforgettable. Horror? More like porno disguised as horror movie.
You’ll get this message from Justwatch “Amityville Vibrator is not available for streaming.”
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