Kathy Lutz (Melissa George) begs the priest (Phillip Baker) to stay and help. He does the right thing and gets the hell away from this dreaded movie, er, haunted house.

Contrary to popular belief, people like remakes. Most of them give filmmakers a chance to run with previously established ideas, and they lead to easier ways to make good movies.

In theory.

Now, in theory, the Matrix series would have finished far more gracefully, but hell, that whole series was BASED on theory and it became a billion-dollar franchise, so why quibble?

The idea of remaking The Amityville Horror is a darn good one, and I salute the executive who saw potential in this. I don’t remember ever seeing the original films — for all I know, they could feature Ben Kingsley as a cannibal ninja who finds a treasure map hidden behind the Declaration of Independence. Regardless, the original screenplay is rightfully irrelevant and the “true story” of the Lutz family, haunted by the specter of a murdered family in its new home, is perfectly malleable for a new generation. It’s a good idea that puts MGM a bit above the presidential administration.

Too bad the damn movie sucks.

Ryan Reynolds (Van Wilder), who’s apparently hot right now (the magazines tell me this; the same ones also taught me 50 surefire ways to please my man in bed), is George Lutz. He’s scraped up enough money through a construction company of some sort to move into a new abode with his wife and their three children. The legends, however, soon threaten their friendly home: Supposedly, the house’s previous inhabitants were murdered by their own grown son, following the instructions of “voices” from within the house. Soon smartass George is getting grumpy, chopping wood for no apparent reason and spending nights in the basement, occasionally yelling at his annoying brat children and moppet wife.

It’s essentially a horror film about an abusive father. This can easily be a disturbing parable on the sanctity of family and the importance of home — not to mention excellent fodder for a character study. Unfortunately, there’s no character development here. George is a wisecracking dad who merely sneers and becomes unhinged. Melissa George (Alias), as wife Kathy, is walking proof that most male screenwriters cannot write for women. The children — jerk Billy, wuss Michael and precocious Chelsea (the token kid who sees ghosts) — are glorified props, while veteran character actor Philip Baker Hall (Dogville) plays a priest who takes one look at the Amityville home and does the smart thing: He gets the hell out.

The primary problem with The Amityville Horror? It’s stupid. This is a dumb, dumb film. No one behaves rationally, no one does anything remotely wise and nothing makes much sense. Instead of showing what goes on, director Andrew Douglas bogs the film down with long stretches, in which characters spout out expositions necessary to get to the next loud, bloody scare.

At a key moment, George realistically deals with his demons by going to a doctor. The couple then scoffs at a suggestion for long-term therapy. Never again during the family’s 28-day stay at the new home does Kathy ever consider contacting the therapist again, despite George moving down to the basement and brandishing an ax.

At this particular screening, there were more inappropriate laughs than actual screams, with the very few repetitive scares wearing on an audience that may start to actually boycott this crap. Perhaps it was seeing Reynolds scream and moan like some sort of mental patient. Maybe it was the cliché of a ghostly little girl. Then again, maybe it was just empathizing with Hollywood’s lack of coherent ideas.

At one point, George says, “There are no bad houses, only bad people.” What Amityville drives home is that there are no such things as bad ideas, only bad movies.