Cursed dolls, dastardly demons, and one hell of a take on “Night at the Museum.” As much as
there is to love about the supernatural adventures of Ed and Lorraine Warren,
it's hard to ignore these 10 things in “The Conjuring” universe that make no sense.
"The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It" was met with a mixed reception.
While some critics and audiences were thrilled to see the famed Warrens, earnestly played by
Vera Farmiga and Patrick Wilson, return to the big screen, others feared the series had run
its course. One of its principal faults is that "The Devil Made Me Do It," as sequels often do,
opts to go bigger at the expense of what made the series so successful in the first place.
But the movie's most egregious sin is the inconsistent use of Lorraine
Warrens' clairvoyance. Lorraine has made use of her power several times during the series,
whether exploring family photos or sensing where a demon might strike. In "The Devil Made Me Do It,"
Lorraine is inexplicably unaware that the house where she recently exorcized a demon
has a witch's totem buried beneath it. There's some mumbo jumbo about how the curse is powerful
enough to dodge Lorraine's sixth sense, but it seems like something she should have sensed.
This is a sin that applies in equal measure to 4 movies in "The Conjuring" universe.
The real life Annabelle doll is an allegedly cursed Raggedy Ann doll. Keeping a cursed
object around is certainly never a good idea, and the Annabelle doll of "The Conjuring"
cinematic universe is a ghastly porcelain nightmare. The doll has no redeeming qualities,
even when measured against the admittedly low standards held by doll connoisseurs.
"I mean this thing is really freaking me out. I
feel like it's going to come alive in the middle of the night and kill me."
Yet "The Conjuring" universe repeatedly wants audiences to believe that a normal
person would actually want this monstrosity in their home. Nurses in "The Conjuring"
sought it out before their haunting, and the dollmaker in "Creation" made it for his daughter,
not realizing that, cursed or not, Annabelle is the very essence of terror. Worse still,
given how much Ed and Lorraine Warren talk about how evil the doll is, it never really
makes sense that they would keep it in their house. Encased in glass from an old chapel,
the evil is ostensibly contained, although after the doll causes all hell to break
loose in their own home, one wonders why they wouldn't at least consider an alternative.
"The Curse of La Llorona" is the lowest rated installment — and we use the term
“installment” loosely here — in "The Conjuring" franchise. The entry was
plagued by controversy even before release, most of which was on account
of whitewashing a legend central to Mexican culture. While La Llorona,
played by Marisol Ramierz, is incredibly realized, the scares are inconsistent and tame.
The worst of it, though, is just how contrived its setup is to begin with.
Patricia Alvarez's children are targeted and killed by La Llorona, an event social services
dismiss as neglect and abuse. It's bad enough that it's never fully explained why Alvarez's
children were targeted in the first place. Yet, after her children's deaths, Patricia blames Anna,
the social worker who first took her children away. She summons La Llorona and has the creature
target Anna and her children so that Anna might feel the same pain she does. The entire thing is
predicated on Patricia's reluctance to admit that locking children in a closet on account of a ghost
isn't something that a social worker would reasonably believe. Worse, Anna is never
outright hostile or incredulous. She genuinely wants to help Patricia figure out what's going on.
Love heals all. Well, it doesn't, but if the ending to "The Conjuring" is to be believed,
all that “The Exorcist’s” Regan MacNeil needed was some love and perspective.
At the end of "The Conjuring," Lorraine realizes that Bathsheba,
the specter haunting a rural Rhode Island farmhouse, has been possessing mothers on her
land and making them kill their children. Another possession is in full swing when
Carolyn absconds with one of her daughters, Christine, intent on sacrificing her to Satan.
Ed must expel Bathsheba from Carolyn and begins a full-borne exorcism. It's for naught, though,
as Carolyn quickly escapes and chases after her other daughter, April,
armed with a pair of scissors that she intends to use in the worst possible way.
Just as Carolyn catches April and brandishes the shears, Lorraine grabs hold of Carolyn. She
begs Carolyn to remember the good times and to break Bathsheba's hold from within. In moments,
it works, and love alone — not Bibles or rituals or Latin incantations — frees Carolyn's
soul. It's a poignant and sweet moment, but also radically undermines everything that came before.
The climax of "Annabelle" is arguably the most egregious in the entire series.
Midway through, housewife Mia Form is sufficiently plagued by the haunted
Annabelle doll. Desperate for help, she solicits the assistance of Evelyn,
a neighbor and the proprietor of a local bookstore. Evelyn's character leans heavily into
the super problematic "magical negro" stereotype. Replete with knowledge of demonology, curses,
and possession, Evelyn's primary role seems to be delivering exposition to the white protagonists.
"What do they want? A soul and they won't stop until they get one."
That, though, isn't even the worst of it. In the end, the demon intends on stealing Mia's newborn
daughter and entices Mia into giving up her soul. Mia is initially willing to sacrifice herself for
her daughter. However, as she plans to step out the window of her apartment with the Annabelle
doll in her hands, Evelyn arrives. Feeling guilty about the death of her daughter years prior,
Evelyn decides to jump in Mia's place, sacrificing both her life and eternal soul for a woman she
barely knows. Intended as a profound act of sacrifice, the entire thing feels scuzzy. The
racial politics are misplaced, the act itself is arbitrary, and it's incredibly predictable.
Casting Vera Farmiga's sister Taissa Farmiga in "The Nun" was an inspired choice, and the movie at
least feels sufficiently dangerous. The characters face real threats as they explore an abandoned,
haunted abbey plagued by the terrifying Valek, who first appeared in "The Conjuring 2."
In order to defeat Valek, the portal from which she was released must be sealed with the literal
blood of Christ. And wouldn't you know, a vial of Christ's blood is being held in the abbey,
and the portal is only a short walk away. It's bad enough that Valek, having offed the entire abbey,
is curiously ineffective at stopping them. Considerably more sinful, Farmiga's Sister Irene
is successful. The rift is sealed and Valek is dramatically swept
into a vortex and sealed beneath the abbey. Cue the happy ending.
Only, it isn't happy. There's a final twist showing a subsequent possession by Valek,
rendering the entire thing moot. It makes no sense.
"The Conjuring 2" is arguably better than the original. Though it's more fantastical,
the scares are more frequent and meaner. "The Conjuring 2" is a haunted house movie with a
legacy as enduring as its ghosts. It's unfortunate that the core conflict is so arbitrary.
"The Conjuring 2" stars Frances O'Connor as a cockney mother of three
who lives in a haunted house largely paid for by the British government.
When she claims that the house is haunted, the Warrens are called in.
Initially, the Warrens are unconvinced, although Lorraine makes a recurrent note
of her inability to sense anything awry. It culminates in a staged incident caught on tape,
one that compels the Warrens to leave. Later, of course, Lorraine learns that
"The Nun" villain Valek had blocked her clairvoyance, but otherworldly sense or not,
it feels out of character for Ed and Lorraine to be so quick to dismiss someone's claims.
"Annabelle: Creation" is very scary. The scares are unconventional for the series,
with director David F. Sandberg making use of a diverse array of possessed haunts.
One of the most effective scenes involves orphan Carol escaping to a barn.
After some of the girls lock themselves in a car, they're assailed by a possessed scarecrow and
scatter. In the barn, Carol catches sight of the scarecrow again and is rightly petrified. Then,
the lights hanging from the ceiling slowly unscrew themselves as a demon manifests in the corner.
Rather than flee, Carol proceeds to ... fix the lights. The scarecrow itself has no business
being in there — the only plausible explanation is demonic activity — yet Carol decides that it's
safer to stay and play electrician than it is to bolt right out the door. It's sheer lunacy.
"Annabelle Comes Home," while not the scariest entry in the Conjuring cinematic universe,
might very well be the most fun. A cross between "Annabelle" and "Night at the Museum,"
it was enormously successful and stars Mckenna Grace as the Warrens' daughter
Judy. When the Warrens head out of town, they hire local teenager Mary Ellen to babysit.
That alone makes little sense. With a house full of accursed objects, it's reasonable to
assume that the Warrens might have someone other than a slightly older child on deck.
Teenagers do as teenagers do, though, and shortly after arriving,
Mary Ellen's friend, Daniela crashes the party, intent on gaining access to the artifact room
in hopes of contacting her late father. In doing so, she unleashes Annabelle,
who empowers the Warrens' entire collection of cursed artifacts.
"It's the doll, Ed. It's a beacon for other spirits."
"Annabelle Comes Home" has a frightening ferryman,
werewolves, and homicidal bridal gowns. Though none of it is taken especially seriously,
it's hard to move past the cursed elephant in the room: With it being this easy to
unleash a demonic horde, why run the risk of getting a babysitter at all?
The demons in the "Conjuring" universe often have the basest of desires.
They're often there to wreak havoc, menace some rural folk, and just barely miss out on
their chance at securing a human soul. As with all cinematic supernatural showdowns, however,
the rules guiding their behavior are arbitrary and unclear. These demons attack and chase,
yet almost never bother to kill the people who stand in their way.
They're clearly capable of it. "Annabelle Creation" and "The Nun," for instance, have
considerably more deaths than the other entries in the franchise. Yet, even though Annabelle is keen
on ripping her own mother in half, she's content to let nuns and orphaned teenagers go free.
If the Conjuring franchise has any glaring flaw, it's that the stakes are never clear.
While that was fine for the first few entries, after eight movies,
the supernatural rules need to have some degree of consistency. Unfortunately,
there simply isn't any. In cleansing Bathsheba, Valek, haunted board games,
and monstrous wolves, the Conjuring universe might have inadvertently exorcized logic as well.
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