By the sixth Amityville movie, you’d think the franchise would be wheezing on life support, begging for a priest to pull the plug. We’ve had the house, the lamp, the dollhouse—basically anything that can gather dust in a suburban living room has had its shot at being evil. So when this installment revealed its big bad was… a haunted clock, expectations were so low you’d need spelunking gear to find them.
And yet, against all odds, Amityville 1992: It’s About Time isn’t just passable—it’s oddly fun. Yes, it’s goofy. Yes, it’s got enough plot holes to drive a possessed U-Haul through. But it’s also atmospheric, weirdly ambitious, and genuinely creepy in moments. A direct-to-video sequel about an evil clock has no right being this entertaining.
The Premise: Bad Times Ahead
Architect Jacob Sterling (Stephen Macht) makes the mistake of bringing home a spooky antique mantel clock from the ruins of the Amityville house, because apparently no one in horror movies has ever heard of leaving cursed objects where they belong. Once the clock lands in California, it immediately latches onto the fireplace like a demonic barnacle and starts turning the Sterling household into a funhouse of time-warping nightmares.
From there, time gets slippery. Hours vanish without explanation, people age and de-age like they’re in a cosmic game of Guess My Age, and doors lock with the smug authority of a prison guard on overtime. The clock doesn’t just tick—it rewrites reality, and suddenly everyone’s evening of suburban drama becomes an audition for Tales from the Crypt: The Longest Hour.
Why This Shouldn’t Work (and Why It Weirdly Does)
A haunted clock is not inherently terrifying. At best, you expect it to make your sleep schedule miserable, not summon a torture dungeon in your living room. But director Tony Randel (fresh off Hellbound: Hellraiser II) leans into the absurdity with a straight face. He treats this ticking menace like it’s the second coming of Pinhead, and somehow that seriousness sells it.
The clock isn’t just evil—it’s petty. It doesn’t want to rule the world; it wants to ruin your night. Your dog? Dead. Your boyfriend? Melted into the carpet. Your bathtub? Full of zombies. And just when you’re ready to leave, it whispers, “Nope, three hours just vanished, sit your butt back down.”
It’s less a demon from hell and more like the universe’s worst roommate, and that makes it oddly relatable.
Stephen Macht: The Dad Who Brings Home Cursed Junk
Macht plays Jacob with the kind of square-jawed sincerity that every haunted-object movie needs. He’s the dad who thinks he’s too busy for evil clocks because he’s designing a new subdivision. But once the infection of time-warp madness kicks in, he slides into aggression and paranoia, embodying the “possessed patriarch” trope with sweaty intensity.
If you’ve ever wondered what it would look like if your dad got possessed by both Satan and his Fitbit, this is the performance for you.
Andrea the Ex-Girlfriend: The Only One with a Brain
Shawn Weatherly as Andrea is the audience surrogate. She’s the ex roped into babysitting Jacob’s kids, and she’s the only one who notices that maybe, just maybe, bringing home a weird old clock from a murder house is a bad idea. She sees slime on the bed, doors locking on their own, and still manages not to collapse into hysterics.
She’s basically the film’s Final Girl, except instead of facing off against a masked killer, she squares up against Father Time’s evil cousin. And when she finally smashes the clock to bits in the reset timeline, it’s one of the more satisfying “enough of this crap” moments in any horror sequel.
The Kids: Rusty and Lisa
Damon Martin plays Rusty, a brooding teen with a mullet that could cut glass, who’s immediately suspicious of the clock. Naturally, the cops think he’s the one behind the neighborhood mayhem, because in the early ‘90s, looking vaguely goth was probable cause. He gets points for being genre-aware—he knows something’s up—but loses them for failing to stop his sister from getting possessed.
Lisa (Megan Ward), on the other hand, goes full evil-daughter mode, courtesy of the clock. One minute she’s a normal teen; the next she’s a seductive, black-clad demon spawn throwing herself at her boyfriend and slinking around the house like she just got cast in a Whitesnake video. Her possession arc is ridiculous, campy, and one of the movie’s highlights.
Practical Effects: Goo, Gears, and Grime
Like any respectable early-‘90s direct-to-video horror, Amityville 1992 delivers the goods with practical effects. We’ve got goo dripping from ceilings, rotting zombies climbing out of tubs, a boyfriend melting into the carpet like a popsicle left in the sun, and gears grinding inside walls like Hell’s own grandfather clock.
Sure, some of it looks cheap. But cheap practical effects age far better than early CGI. When a mutant dog attack happens or a crucified corpse turns up blazing, it’s tactile, gross, and oddly charming in its dedication to physicality.
Tony Randel’s Direction: Hellraiser Lite
Randel brings some of the same surreal, body-horror energy he honed in Hellbound: Hellraiser II. There’s a dreamlike quality to the way time folds in on itself—one minute you’re at dinner, the next three hours have gone missing. It gives the movie a surreal, nightmarish rhythm that helps elevate it above “dumb haunted clock flick.”
There’s also a sly sense of humor lurking. Doors slam in faces, time skips feel like cosmic jump scares, and at one point, a kindly neighbor gets squashed by a falling stork statue—because why not?
The Ending: Explosive, Reset, Repeat
The climax is bonkers in the best way. Andrea finds giant gears hidden in the walls (because apparently the Sterling house is now a timepiece), gets aged into an old woman mid-fight, and then decides the best solution is to ignite the gas line and blow everything to hell. It’s over-the-top, it’s messy, and it’s exactly what a movie about an evil clock deserves.
Then—plot twist—it all resets back to the night Jacob first brought the clock home. Andrea, now fully aware of the nightmare ahead, smashes it before things spiral again. It’s a neat “gotcha” ending, equal parts satisfying and hilarious.
Final Judgment: Time Well Wasted
Amityville 1992: It’s About Time is not high art. It’s not even middle art. But it is fun, spooky, and way more creative than a franchise’s sixth entry deserves to be. It embraces its absurd premise, leans into gooey practical effects, and actually builds some tension amidst the camp.
Most importantly, it proves that even a cursed clock can keep a horror franchise ticking. Sure, the Amityville name has been stapled onto everything from lamps to haunted real estate scams, but here it actually finds a groove.
