Halloween 2025: September 18th

 

The Conjuring: Last Rites (2025)

Here are the things we know to be true. In 1974, after losing their previous home in Hurricane Agnes, the Smurl family – Jack and Janet, their daughters Dawn and Heather, and his parents John and Mary – moved into a duplex on Chase Street in West Pittston, Pennsylvania. The home was an admitted fixer-upper, with a creaky foundation, in a town plagued with sewer piping issues and built atop a honeycomb of old mining areas. Eighteen months after moving in, the family reported your standard poltergeist activity: Missing objects, weird smells, creepy voices, and knocking sounds coming from the walls. (Especially the wall the grandparents shared with the bedroom of their teenage granddaughters.) After Janet gave birth to twins, Shannon and Carin, the family claims the haunting intensified. Supposed incidents include a light falling from the kitchen ceiling, Dawn being pushed down the stairs, Shannon seeing floating figures in her room, and a pet German Shepherd being lifted into the air and thrown into a wall by an unseen force. Most notoriously, Jack – a devout Catholic who underwent brain surgery in 1983 – says a succubus raped him in an episode that aligns closely with sleep paralysis symptoms. 

The family went to the press with their claims, who crowded the streets to such a degree that the neighbors complained. Several Catholic priests performed exorcisms in the house and stayed overnight, reporting nothing unusual. The family refused psychological counseling and denied writers from skepticism based publications enter their home. The help they did seek out was from Ed and Lorraine Warren, the infamous "parapsychologists" who claimed that the Amityville Horror hoax was still a legitimate haunting. The Warrens said multiple ghosts and at least one demonic entity were inhabiting the home. Ed Warren said he saw demonic black masses forming in the air and heard evil voices. Around this time, the money strapped Smurl family was also negotiating book and movie deals about their story. This is why actor Jason Miller visited the house during this period. A book co-written by the Warrens, entitled "The Haunted: One Family's Nightmare," was published in 1986. It was poorly reviewed. A made-for-TV film adaptation followed in 1991. The paranormal activity stopped rather anticlimactically sometime before the Smurls moved out of the house in 1987. Subsequent owners of the property have reported no ghostly events. 

This we also know to be true: "The Conjuring" cinematic universe, extremely loosely based on Ed and Lorraine's career, is the highest grossing horror franchise to date, having made over two billions dollars across nine or ten films. The last three entries in the series have been slightly less successful than the ones before them, the third "Annabelle" and "Conjuring" entries and the second "Nun" all failing to cross two hundred million at the global box office. While that's still a lot of profit, it does suggest some diminishing returns. This might be why it was announced that "The Conjuring 4" would be the final entry about the Warrens themselves, a climax of sorts to "phase one" of the cinematic universe. In other words, a possible finale, the "Avengers: Endgame" of the "Conjuring"-verse. Michael Chaves directed two of those slightly less popular recent sequels but was still retained as director of this one. The subtitle "Last Rites" ensured that everyone knew this was possibly the final movie. Since the Smurl case is chronologically the last of the Warrens' truly attention grabbing "investigations," it provided the basis for the sequel. 

This is the story invented for the sequel: Early in their ghost hunting career, Ed and Lorraine Warren investigated a haunted mirror. The incident was so traumatic that it pushed a very pregnant Lorraine into labor. Their daughter, Judy, arrived stillborn and nearly died, which the couple attributed to the evil spirits within the mirror. In 1985, the Warrens have basically retired from demon battling because of Ed's worsening heart condition. Judy is all grown up and engaged to a man named Tony. Around the same time, the aforementioned spooky mirror ends up in the home of the Smurl family in Pennsylvania, kicking off a horrifying series of events. Old friend of the Warrens, Father Gordon, is so distressed by what he encounters in the home that he commits suicide afterwards. This attracts Judy – who has been experiencing strange visions herself – to the Smurl residence. Her parents follow closely behind, discovering the haunting's connection to one of their earliest cases.

The best films in “The Conjuring” series still tend to feature more jump-scares, those loud and obnoxious jolts that sacrifice genuine tension for a quick jolt, than I'd prefer. The weaker ones rely almost entirely upon them, alongside too much CGI and ideas stolen from better movies. Chaves' first contributions to this cinematic universe, “The Curse of La Llorona” and “The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It,” were utterly kneecapped by this. His third film, “The Nun II,” was a little better. “Last Rites” does prove that the filmmaker and his team are capable of creating a genuinely eerie horror set-piece. My favorite moment in the sequel involves one of the Smurl daughters re-winding a home movie, in order to spot a demonic face in the grainy darkness of the footage. Her own face is reflected on the TV screen as each repetition comes. It's a well-done moment that builds nicely and plays off understandable anxieties, of our private moments and home being invaded by a malevolent outsider. Naturally, this scene immediately leads into a loud and very goofy sequence of a ghostly murder-hillbilly chasing the girl around the living room. So it too often goes with the “Conjuring” movies. 

There are a number of moments like that throughout the sequel. As the evil mirror is crushed in a trash truck, one of the Smurl daughters vomits up a torrent of blood, spraying it around the room. Judy stands in a mirrored room at a bridal shop, before a creaking open door allows in a malevolent spirit. In a set piece that feels like it could've been from one of the better “Omen” sequels, Father Gordon is harassed by demonic spirits in a gorgeously lit room. Any time a suitably tense or freaky feeling is established, it's immediately squandered on a big, loud special effect. “Last Rites,” in particular, seems to greatly miscalculate what is and isn't genuinely scary. It's spectral menace is a generic evil hag with a cartoonish clown grin, which made me chuckle every time it appeared. As the film goes on, it only gets sillier. The entire last act is a barrage of excruciatingly loud, CGI-driven spectacle. An eight foot tall version of Annabelle juts out of the darkness, there's a weak-as-piss revival of some “Exorcist” shenanigans, before the entire climax revolves around the evil mirror. Oh boy, does “The Conjuring: Last Rites” grossly overestimate how scary a mirror is. Even when you used computers to make it do all sorts of wacky shit. 

Much has been made of “Last Rites'” status as a send-off to the Ed and Lorraine that exist solely within these movies. Despite Patrick Wilson looking as yoked out as a 52 year old man could, the film repeatedly draws attention to Ed's worsening heart condition. You're expecting him to die by the end or something. Similarly, repeated references are made to Annabelle and Judy's connection to the demonic doll. Despite that, the sequel barely connects to any previous adventures. Considering the Disciples of the Ram – the Satanic cult present in the first “Annabelle” and third “Conjuring” flicks – seemed like they were being set-up as the Warrens' arch-nemesis, I was disappointed they are totally tossed out in favor of this lame-ass mirror. The script desperately attempts to make this last minute addition to “Conjuring”-verse lore into an enemy grand enough for a final movie. It simply doesn't work, instead feeling more like series architects David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick and James Wan – and the other two credited screenwriters – were out of ideas. 

It's something of a bummer too. Whatever merits these movies have, the chemistry between Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga remains adorable. It says a lot that some of the better moments in the film involve no demons or spectres at all. Instead, scenes of the two cooking pancakes or bantering around a dinner table prove far more charming. Farmiga and Wilson have played these ridiculous characters long enough that they feel fleshed-out and lived-in, despite mostly still being caricatures. The new additions to the Warren family here also prove unusually charming. Mia Tomlinson, as Judy, has got those diamond eyes and button nose that immediately makes you want to see her protected. Ben Hardy plays her fiance as a sincere dork who proves surprisingly likable. One of the biggest flaws of the sequel is that it splits time between the Warrens and the Smurls. Clearly, the former are the stars of the show but the latter motivate the plot. The actors playing the tormented family are fine, making them all seem like decent people, but their plight often feels pushed to the margin of the story. 

“Last Rites” ends with an extended epilogue, clearly designed to function as both a heart-felt goodbye to the cinematic Ed and Lorraine with call-backs to past adventures. It's also clearly a passing of the baton to a new team of heroes, should the franchise continue. Considering the fourth installment has already made more than its predecessor – and that the real life Tony Spera has kept his in-laws' grift going to this day – that seems extremely likely. (WB has already announced a streaming series, at the very least.) “Last Rites” is not the worst film to appear out of this very silly franchise, nor is it an especially riveting or frightening one. The leads are nice, it's got one or two moments, but the whole thing remains an immensely silly and self-serious affair. At least it's not as suffocating in its status as Catholic propaganda – the generic virtues of familial love taking precedence over the power of God – as the other ones. Hopefully whatever form the “Conjuring” universe takes next, it'll be about something more like that ghost werewolf and not a fuckin' scary mirror. [5/10]

Just for the Hell of It (1968)

Starting in 1963, Herschell Gordon Lewis would direct a series of garbage bag horror movies that made up for their lack of plausible storytelling, realistic acting, and professional camerawork by throwing a bunch of blood and guts around. The complete rejection of good taste evident in Lewis' films naturally attracted an audience. However, the novelty of sheep intestines heaped on Playboy bunnies had worn thin by 1967. HGL then started experimenting with other exploitation sub-categories. He dabbled in topics like LSD, biker gangs, all-girl rock groups, wife swapping, and the birth control pill. Emerging out of this period was “Just for the Hell of It,” the director's attempt to make a movie about teenage delinquents. (Which he did without casting any actual teenagers.) The resulting motion picture features the same mixture of technical incompetence and weird, outsider perspective as the rest of the filmmaker's output. 

Like most of Lewis' productions, “Just for the Hell of It” is set in a sunny, Floridian suburb. The otherwise idyllic town is beset by a group of rowdy youths who call themselves Destruction Incorporated. Led by the criminally insane Dexter, the group performs random acts of violence on any local unlucky enough to stumble into their path. In-between terrorizing people on the street, they throw wild parties, do drugs, and wreck small businesses. Why do they do this? For no apparent reason at all, perhaps other than to amuse themselves. Their victims are too frightened to testify against them, making the police powerless. Doug is a former member of Dexter's gang who has cleaned up his life, dating a nice girl named Jeanne. He is the only person willing to stand up to the troublemakers. His sense of justice makes him an enemy of the hellraisers, Dexter and his lackies soon deciding to make his life a living hell. 

“Just for the Hell of It,” without any production logos or opening credits, begins right away with a drawn-out scene of the juvenile delinquents wrecking an apartment. The scene goes on and on, shot in a mix of static medium shots and shaky, handheld close-ups. The titles finally begin, playing out over a montage of the kids attacking random people around town. Over the scene, an extremely goofy folk-rock song plays. This, in fact, is how most of the film plays out. Dexter's gang get into fist fights in dinners and wreck them. They spray paint “FUZZ GO AWAY” on a wall. They very gently place a woman's baby in a trash can before smashing her baby carriage to pieces. An old lady is sprayed with a hose, a blind man beat up, a guy on crutches attacked, a newspaper is set on fire without the woman reading it noticing. Many of these montages of destruction are set to that same warbling, repetitive song. All of it is done with the resources, budget, and skills we've come to expect from Herschell Gordon Lewis. Which is to say very little.

The movie was obviously an attempt by its director to cash-in on the cultural hysteria around the hippy movement. The theme song refers to the violent teens as hairy animals and one of the bystanders decries them as “monkeys.” Except these rebel-rousers don't have long hair. They don't appear unshaved, unwashed or even somewhat slightly dazed. They have cleanly cropped hair cuts and wear tucked-in and button-down shirts. This is undoubtedly an exploitation movie. Three teenage girls are lured to one of the gang's party, presumably sexually assaulted, and intimidated into not reporting to the incident. A random blonde on a beach is raped while the hero's girlfriend gets violently brutalized. However, in a rare display of tact, Lewis doesn't include any nudity in these moments. Which surely would've been permissible by 1968. The hokey soundtrack feels very much like a hopelessly out-of-step square attempting to replicate what the kids were listening to. The dialogue is a hilariously awkward attempt to copy contemporary slang. What hippy would call the cops “fuzz” and not “pigs?” These riotous teens rarely do drugs, never have on-screen sex, and seem unusual gentle with what chaos they do reap. 

As it often does, the odd mixture of tedium, do-it-yourself scrapiness, camp, and mean-spirited violence makes “Just for the Hell of It” nearly as hypnotic and entombing as Lewis' more notorious motion pictures. Most of the movie is composed of the aforementioned montages, making this nearly eighty whole minutes of nothing but senseless destruction. The plot is thin as can be, Dexter's rivalry with Doug not being introduced until the eighteen minute mark and only cropping up a few other times before the end. This makes “Just for the Hell of It” feel as nihilistic as the teenage psychopaths it is about. The ending, as slapdash as the rest of the production, is downbeat in its abruptness. A brief epilogue has a character clarifying that none of this matters, before a final reprise of the theme song assures us that no moral can be taken from this telling. I'm sure Mr. Lewis was simply being as crass and commercial as ever. People wanted movies about the kids not being alright and going wild in the streets? Lewis was going to give them that and nothing else. However, the filmmaker's sheer inability to ever aspire to higher art almost makes “Just for the Hell of It” a statement on hedonistic mayhem for its own sake. Few other movies about meaningless violence feel quite as meaningless as this. 

Naturally, the acting is stilted and otherworldly. Ray Sager, the future Montag the Magnificent, plays Dexter as a weirdly vamping marionette while everyone else are stiff as boards. The filmmaking craft on display is rough. When the gang destroys the diner, its owner seems to yell at them from an entirely separate dimension. Aside from that cornball theme song, the soundtrack is composed of jazzy dissonance and random electronic farts. There are unexpected bursts of artier touches, shots of the unhinged antagonists giggling in brightly colored cutaways. It's not as funny as HGL's better remembered horror movies. Nor as weird as, well, “Something Weird.” Often boring or annoying, “Just for the Hell of It” is still too fascinatingly fixated on the idea of senseless violence not to be somewhat interesting and too miscalculated in its attempt to say hello to the fellow kids not to entertain. [5/10]

 

Quinn Martin's Tales of the Unexpected: The Force of Evil

If you say the words “Tales of the Unexpected” to most fans of classic genre television, they will probably assume you are talking about the British series that ran from 1979 to 1988. That Roald Dahl-hosted program did air in the U.S. as well, in syndication throughout the eighties. However, if you're talking to a real hardcore anthology aficionado, they might recall an earlier, American “Tales of the Unexpected.” This one was produced by the prolific Quinn Martin, of “A Quinn Martin Production” fame, going so far as to include his name above the title. (Providing a convenient way to differentiate it from the identically named program that began two years later.) This “Tales” aired for five hour long episodes in 1977, getting crushed in the ratings by “Charlie's Angels” and “Baretta.” I guess, as some sort of stunt to raise ratings, the sixth episode took the form of a feature length special. If that was the intention, it didn't work. The show went on hiatus for sixth months before burning off the last two episodes in August. The longer episode, entitled “The Force of Evil,” would eventually be released on VHS as a stand-alone movie. Along with a handful of other “Tales,” it now floats around the internet as blurry uploads. 

“Force of Evil” follows Dr. Yale Carrington, a beloved husband to Maggie and father to two kids, John and Maggie. Seven years earlier, the crematorium operator at the hospital named Teddy Jakes raped and murdered a girl. He came to Dr. Carrington, asking him to provide an alibi. The doctor refused and Jakes went away for the crime. Now, however, he is out on parole. Jakes begins to show up at the doctor's office. He harasses Maggie in the parking lot of the grocery store. The family's stables burn down mysteriously and a friend of Maggie is struck by a boat while jet-skiing, both crimes attribute to Jakes. Carrington has his brother, the town sheriff, put some pressure on Jakes but it only increases his stalking. The doctor takes justice into his own hands, poisoning Jakes' daily insulin, and dropping his body down a well... This does not stop the man's will to torment Yale Carrington and his family, his vengeance continuing from beyond the grave. 

The few times retrospective reviews of Martin's “Tales of the Unexpected” pop up, it is usually criticized for a perceived lack of creativity. The episode “The Nomads” is a direct remake of the pilot of earlier Martin series, “The Invaders.” Another episode, “A Hand for Sonny Grey,” transplants the old “Hands of Orlac” premise into the world of baseball. Then there's “Force of Evil” which is, to put it kindly, an extended homage to “Cape Fear.” To put it bluntly, it's a direct rip-off. The profession of the main character is changed from a lawyer to a doctor and the location is shifted from the deep south to the American southwest. Otherwise, the similarities are hard to ignore. It's not only the general set-up of a now paroled rapist harassing the family of the man he blames for his imprisonment. In both “Cape Fear” and this episode, the protagonist has the local police pressure the crook, only for that plan to backfire. While in prison, Teddy Jakes read up on law books, much the way Max Cady did. Most blatantly, the climax of “Force of Evil” also sees the family man, his wife, and daughter hiding out on a house boat, only for the assailant to follow them and set the boat adrift from the dock. The episode is credited to Robert Malcolm Young, without acknowledging John D. MacDonald's original novel or James R. Webb's screenplay, but it seems implausible to me that the parallels are coincidence. 

Part of what makes “Cape Fear” a compelling story is how the hero is constantly tempted to violently strike back at his stalker but ultimately shows himself to be morally superior. This is not present in “Force of Evil.” Dr. Carrington and his wife outright plot to murder Teddy Jakes, going so far as to hide his body. This does insert a new angle to the telling. Jakes is a vile man, a remorseless predator who delights in intimidating and terrifying his enemies. However, Carrington taking the law into his own hands, setting out to murder Jakes, at least makes the man's revenge understandable. This could have been built into a meditation on the nature of justice, what constitutes self-defense exactly, and how people consolidate their moral compass. “Force of Evil” doesn't really get into that though, leaving the morality of its protagonist mostly unexamined. The supernatural element that is also hinted at never amounts to much either. The script seems to confirm that Jakes is dead half-way through, his body being dragged out of the well, while also flirting with the possibility that he simply somehow survived the assassination attempt. It's all very vague and half-assed. 

There's some suggestion that “The Force of Evil” could have been a little more than a low-rent TV rip-off of a classic film. Lloyd Bridges stars as Carrington and makes for a sympathetic protagonist. He has good chemistry with Pat Crowley as his wife. William Watson is especially effective as Teddy Jakes, putting off a greasy kind of charisma while also coming across as a totally repugnant human being. You can see how he would be able to con his way into various scenarios while never forgetting what a threat he is. Cinematographer Paul Lohmann has some notable other credits, such as “Coffy,” “The White Buffalo,” and a few Mel Brooks movies. He occasionally adopts a cock-eyed visual direction, adding an uneasy tension to a few moments. Despite these strengths, “Touch of Evil” is sluggishly paced throughout. This story truly did not need to be almost two hours. Moreover, the characters are all thinly written, leaving the talented cast little room to expand on the material. 

As the title implies, there is something of a twist ending here. More like an ambiguous ending, to be frank. It is mildly interesting. William Conrad provides opening and closing narration, as he did on a few other Martin productions, which helps this feel more like a proper anthology series. However, if this represents the overall quality of this “Tales of the Unexpected,” it's not hard to see why it didn't catch on. “Force of Evil” goes out of its way to remind the viewer of superior material while never grappling with the moral themes it brings up or weirder ideas batted around by the script. “Quinn Martin's Tales of the Unexpected” does seem fondly remembered by some seventies nostalgists. Stephen King shouted the show out in “Danse Macabre,” his non-fiction essay on the horror genre... Except the scenario he describes is actually from an episode of “Ghost Story,” meaning this series actually has zero cultural legacy. Good theme song though. [5/10]

The Addams Family: Fester Goes on a Diet

“The Addams Family” is not a show that you would refer to as topical most of the time. However, “Fester Goes on a Diet” roots itself to the late sixties in two specific ways. The main plot involves Uncle Fester receiving news that Yvette, his latest pen pal from France, will be visiting him soon. After Pugsley is caught exercising, in hopes of impressing his own lady friend and much to his parents' horror, Fester gets the idea to loose some weight himself. He consults fitness guru Jack LaLanne – whose eponymous show was already fifteen years into its 34 run by 1966 – and quickly gets on the exercise regiment supposedly used by U.S. astronauts. That last detail leads Gomez and Morticia to believe that Fester has been selected to be an astronaut, the two quickly becoming fearful that his electric physicality would be dangerous within the high-oxygen environment of a space shuttle. The Saturn IB round of Apollo missions would start shortly after this episode aired, which is probably why the topic was on the show writers' minds. The episode does not end with Fester going into outer space, which he wouldn't accomplish until he started fighting aliens in 1989. 

You never know if older programs such as this will hold up to modern standards. By which I mean I was worried this episode would be full of fat jokes. “The Addams Family” has rarely used Jackie Coogan or Ken Weatherwax's physical appearances as the butt of jokes but you never know. It was the sixties, man. Thankfully, “Fester Goes on a Diet” doesn't mock either actor for their appearance much. The idea of Pugsley getting into weight training is a joke because his parents are aghast that their child would be into something wholesome like exercise, not because he's a husky kid. Jack LaLanne, beloved pop culture figure though he might have been, was not much of an actor. He does deliver a few stiff lines about Fester's appearance. However, most of the humor is derived from the weirdness of the uncle's body, not his weight. Fester's attempts at knee bends or arm reps go wrong because he's more like a corpse than your average person. It's goofy physical comedy, not mockery of a fat guy. The ending – fairly easy to predict – could even be read as fat-positive through a 2025 lens, though unintentionally. Still, I didn't cringe much.

In fact, “Fester Goes on a Diet” is a fairly amusing episode. Once again, season two gets some decent mileage out of pairing up characters that haven't interacted much before. I don't recall Fester and Lurch having too many scenes together before this. When Fester tells the butler that his lady friend will be paying him a visit soon, the stocky man-servant's unusually vocal reaction got a good laugh out of me. So did some of the shenanigans of the two attempting to exercise together. Once Yvette appears in the last act, there's a solid gag based of Fester attempting to replicate Gomez' passion for French. A doctor is called in to give Fester a physical, which gets a little more weird than your standard joke of an outsider reacting with horror to the family's antics. Also, there's a cool shot of some fog billowing through the house, the result of Fester using a sarcophagus as a steam bath. Ya know, how come there's not more fog on this show? I'd say the Addams and the Munsters are about evenly matched in most regards but Herman and Lily definitely have the moodier abode. I guess gratuitous amounts of cobwebs and dust and a grand staircase say “haunted house” to me more than a moose head, a fireman's pole, and a two-headed turtle. No offense meant to any of the latter, of course. [7/10]

RECENT WATCHES: The Nun II (2023)

One assumes that the lightbulb moment for "The Conjuring" cinematic universe occurred when James Wan or Peter Safran or whoever read about the Warrens' museum of cursed artifacts. Here was a whole room filled with spooky doodads, each one with a creepy origin story of their own, worthy of a horror movie or two. This is the blue print "Annabelle" followed, which the third film built extensively on. Weirdly though, the second series spun out of "The Conjuring" was entirely invented by Hollywood screenwriters, taking no inspiration from the Warrens' haunted knickknacks at all. (This might be because the real Warrens' Occult Museum is mostly filled with Halloween decorations and other shit you can buy off Amazon.) There was never an ominous painting of a demonic nun in Ed and Lorraine's shed. However, "The Nun" made over 300 million worldwide on a 22 million dollar budget, so there was no way we weren't getting a sequel. "The Nun II" arrived five years after the original, probably only taking that long because of the pandemic. I can't imagine the search for a director added to the delay. Michael Chaves would stick with the franchise that had been so good to him, moving from Weeping Women and the Warrens themselves to Bonnie Aarons' snaggle-toothed sinister sister. 

It is 1956. Four years have passed since the demon Valak was seemingly re-sealed under Saint Cartha's Monastery with the blood of Christ. Sister Irene now resides at a convent in Italy, her achievement already passing into legend but her role in it kept a secret. Maurice is working as a gardener at a French boarding school, befriending a bullied young girl named Sophie. A series of bizarre killings, targeting the clergy, have begun across Europe. Irene, with her inexperienced sidekick Sister Debra, is tasked with unraveling the mystery. She soon deduces that Valak escaped its prison by possessing Maurice's body. The demon is targeting the descendants of Saint Lucia, the fire-proof virgin whose eyes were gouged out by Roman pagans during the third century. These eyes are said to reside in a French monastery, the building now being a school... The same school Maurice is working at. Irene and Debra head to France to confront Valak, still in the form of a grotesque nun, once again. 

Corin Hardy's "The Nun" managed to mine considerable ambiance out of its old world setting. "The Nun II" trades Romania for Italy and France but still pulls off a similar trick. I suppose a horror movie setting much of its action in dusty old corridors, shadowy stone ruins, and obscure cellars goes a long way towards winning me over. The locked-off portion of the school, still surviving from the monastery days, features a creepy stained glass window that sets up two amusingly atmospheric sequences. A chase through the cobblestone back allies of France is also decently pulled off. Chaves' sequel doesn't draw as much from classic EuroHorror as the original but setting the movie partly in Italy is still a nod towards its most obvious influences. A scene where school girls trade stories about creepy sounds above their bunks is right out of "Suspiria." There's a smattering of that Argento energy here, when the Nun is stalking her victims. I also suspect Michele Soavi's "The Church" might have been on someone's mind while making "The Nun II." The old world scenery and increasingly grotesque horrors – which starts with a Catholic priest bursting into flames and elevate from there – recall that one a little. "The Nun II" isn't anywhere near as good as its inspirations but that it cribs some of those vibes at all thoroughly makes it my kind of thing. 

"The Conjuring" is a rarity among horror franchises for revolving more around its heroes than its villains. "The Nun II" follows this lead by bringing back two of the three protagonists from the last one. (Demián Bichir's Father Burke is said to have died of cholera between movies.) As a Taissa Farmiga vehicle, "The Nun II" is surprisingly successful. Having wrapped up her character arc of accepting the habit in the first one, Sister Irene now has to struggle with the weight of faith. Memories of her late mother linger in her mind and suffering seems to be all around, making her wonder about her belief in a good and loving God. Farmiga remains a pleasant lead, with a warm and lovable presence about her. She has good chemistry with Storm Reid as the far more skeptical Debra, a character who introduces some much needed incredulity to the story. Jonas Bloquet as Maurice is also a welcome return, the kindness the guy shows to the bullied Sophie instantly making him likable. Our heroes are nice and kind, an unexpected benefit in the often cynical horror genre. 

Which isn't to say "The Nun II" isn't dumb and nasty in many other ways. Bonnie Aarons' Valak is a fully minted movie monster now, the sequel giving her much more lurk-and-hurt time than her previous two appearances. In fact, "The Nun II" almost feels like a Catholicism-themed slasher flick. Symbols of churchly tradition like the Eucharist, a confessional booth, and a censer are weaponized by the demon on the way to gory murder sequences. As with his previous installments in this series, Michael Chaves packs "The Nun II" full of many loud, dumb jump scares. However, he's gotten slightly better at setting up this kind of stuff. A scene where the demon emerges from a new stand of ominously flapping magazines is very silly but in an audacious way. The last third, which features a chase across a crumbling catwalk, isn't bad either. By the end, the sequel successfully captures a feeling of fun house silliness, never actually scary but clearly having a good time tossing demonic visages and creepy crawlers at us. 

I've compared the mainline "The Conjuring" films to superhero movies, in the way they build up the Warrens as mythic do-gooders who interact with established concepts. Rather than pulling from decades of comic book back issues, these movies are inspired by the Warrens' bullshitty claims and Catholic mysticism. After uncovering a vial of the blood of Christ in the first movie, Sister Irene pursues the Eyes of St. Lucy in this one. It's a very Indiana Jones-like structure but, when the central relic is revealed, it has magical powers on-par with an Infinity Gem. The sequel includes an almost hilariously awkward exposition dump to introduce its MacGuffin. It ends in a flash of CGI light and special effects, feeling more and more like a Marvel movie as it goes along. That includes foreshadowing multiple elements in gratuitous ways. Hmm, I wonder if this lengthy conversation about transubstantiation will be important later? That's the kind of movie "The Nun II" is and it goes to show how much the ubiquity of superhero tropes have rubbed off on other genres. 

"The Nun II" made about one hundred million dollars less than its predecessor, a noticeable drop-off. With the sense of finality around the next "Conjuring" movie, it's hard to say if Valak will return to haunt Europe a third time. At the same time, the sequel still made a healthy profit and a money-making horror villain making a comeback is always plausible. I might actually like "The Nun II" a little more than the first one. Its highs are not as high but it also doesn't drop off as hard in the second half either. It's a thoroughly preposterous motion picture but an entertaining one, with a likable cast, some cozy horror ambiance, and a handful of amusingly silly scares. I guess if Catholic propaganda has to infect my beloved horror genre, it's good that the movies are at least decently engineered. [6/10]

RECENT WATCHES: The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It (2021)

The day was February 16th, 1981 and the place was Brookfield, Connecticut. Nineteen year Arne Cheyenne Johnson didn't show up to his tree trimming job that morning. Instead, he spent the day with his girlfriend, Debbie Glatzel, at the dog kennel where she worked and lived. Her boss and landlord, Alan Bono, took them to lunch and bought everybody alcoholic beverages. When a drunk Bono grabbed Debbie's nine year old cousin, Johnson and the other man began to argue. Arne – who described himself as having “a drinking problem” – flew into a rage and stabbed Bono five times. Though the weapon was a mere pocket knife, the lacerations were deep, one extending from Bono's stomach to his heart. He died at the hospital several hours later. Arne Johnson was quickly arrested by the police, claiming he had no memory of committing the crime. When the trial arrived, Johnson's defense team put forth a plea of not guilty... By reason of demonic possession. Ya see, earlier that year, the Glatzel family moved into a dilapidated rental property. Shortly afterwards, Debbie's eleven year old little brother, David, allegedly began to see a creepy old man and the devil himself around the house. The boy exhibited strange behavior, suffering from night terrors and mysterious bruises. The family sought the assistance of Ed and Lorraine Warren, who immediately diagnosed David as demonically possessed. They claim to have seen the kid do all sorts of crazy shit – speak in tongues, levitate, manifest a black mist – and performed several exorcisms. During one such ritual, Arne Johnson begged the demon haunting David to take him instead. This was the basis of his lawyer's defense, that an evil spirit entered Arne's body at that time and compelled him to kill six months later.

Such an outrageous claim, naturally, attracted instant media attention. The Warrens were front and center, trumpeting to the press about the evil influences behind what quickly became known as "the Demon Murder Trial" or "the devil made me do it" case. In private, the Warrens reportedly promised the Glatzels that the claims would clear Arne's name, make them all rich, and attract book and movie deals. They were half-right. In 1983, frequent Warren collaborator Gerald Brittle co-authored the best seller, "The Devil in Connecticut." A TV movie-of-the-week starring Kevin Bacon, "The Demon Murder Case," aired on NBC that March. As for the latter predictions, they proved less accurate. The Glatzels receive all of two thousand dollars from the publishers. At Johnson's trial, the presiding judge threw out all mentions of demonic influence, calling such testimony "irrelative and unscientific." After an unsuccessful backup claim of self-defense, Arne Johnson was convicted of first-degree manslaughter. He served five years of a twenty year sentence. In the decades since, Arne and Debbie – married while he was imprisoned and together for the rest of her life – never waivered from their supernatural claims. Carl Glatzel Jr., David's other sibling, insisted the possession story was a hoax. He later sued Brittle for libel, after being portrayed as a villain in "The Devil in Connecticut" because of his skepticism. He eventually unearthed his mother's journal and found she had been clandestinely dosing the entire family with Sominex, a sleep aide capable of causing hallucinations and psychosis. Which is certainly a more creditable explanation for David and Arne's unusual behavior than the intervention of Luciferian entities. 

Not that the truth has ever stopped the producers of "The Conjuring" franchise. Peter Safran announced that the eighth entry in the billion dollar grossing cinematic universe and the third to focus directly on Ed and Lorraine would not be a haunted house story. After briefly considering the supposed werewolf incident the Warrens unraveled, James Wan and David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick pulled from the notorious court case for "The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It." Michael Chaves must have impressed Wan with "The Curse of La Llorona," as directorial duties were passed onto him the same way an evil spirit swaps bodies. The five year wait since "The Conjuring 2" didn't dampen the public's thirst for the dubious adventures of the Warrens too much. The sequel grossed 100 million dollars less than the last one, which was still a butt load more than its modest budget. How did it measure up to the wildly inconsistent quality standards of this series? 

"The Devil Made Me So It" doesn't spend much time on the trial that inspired its story, perhaps hoping the audience will forget that an actual human being died during these grossly fictionalized events. The film begins with David's possession well under way, the night when Arne goaded the inhuman spirit into his body. After his newly acquired demon compels Arne to kill against his will, Ed and Lorraine set out on an investigation. They uncover an arcane doodad made of bones under the house, the first part of a curse enacted by the Disciples of the Ram. (The same Satanic hippy gang from "Annabelle," for further cinematic universe points.) An expert in the cult says it can only be broken by destroying the responsible party's altar. The curse summons a demon that desires two souls: One taken through murder and the other taken through suicide. Ed and Lorraine race against time – and his worsening heart condition – to find the responsible witch and stop them before Arne is compelled to kill himself in prison. 

Before making the leap to proper superhero theatrics with "Aquaman," "The Conjuring 2" showed that James Wan was already following the story structures of the genre. While Wan's fingerprints on "The Devil Made Me Do It" are minimal, the sequel does continue this trend. At this point, all Ed and Lorraine Warren are lacking are spiffy costumes and catchy nicknames. Lorraine's medium powers were previously depicted as more intuitive, the visions coming to her less so than something she willfully activated. In their third outing, Lorraine can deduce an item's importance by looking at it and project her spirit across vast distances, like something out of a "Hellblazer" comic. Further Batman-ing the premise, the duo are shown working with the cops to crack cold cases. Rather than have the antagonist be an otherworldly spirit, part three cooks up a proper supervillain for them to fight: A black-clad occultist played by Eugenie Bondurant, who has her own evil tricks up her sleeves, sneers at the good guys, and dispatched in a suitably ironic fashion. She gets a tragic origin worthy of any comic book antagonist too. Ed's heart problems emerge as a Kryptonite of sorts, a weakness the villains – and the narrative – can utilize. 

While James Wan could never be mistaken for a subtle director, he has shown an ability to generate suspense or tension in the past. Chaves' “The Curse of La Llorona” would emphasize thundering jump scares almost to the exclusion of any thing else. “The Devil Made Me Do It” doubles down further on this approach. Within its opening minutes, blood is pouring from a shower head while demonic shrieks fill up the soundtrack. As David's exorcism ensues, the audience is already hammered with deafening screams, over-the-top sound design, and computer-assisted acts of bodily contortion. Keep in mind, all of this is before the title screen comes up. This is the strategy the sequel deploys throughout, the film growing quiet before a demonic figure or ghostly hand or reanimated corpse leaps from the darkness as loudly as possibly. The only other trick “The Devil Made Me Do It” are lame gross-outs, mostly devoted to the aforementioned jerky bodily movements and the easy shock value of a big fat naked guy. This is paired with a noticeable reliance on digital effects, such as sparks spurting from a crucifix or someone levitated before a window in a Christ pose. This is a style of horror movie I find to be, at best, overcooked. To be much more brutally honest, it's also incredibly annoying. 

Being a delivery system for protracted, obnoxiously showy jump-scares would be bad enough. Unfortunately, “The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do” continues the series' distressing subtext of regressive politics. The Catholic Church being the ultimate defenders of good in a world beset by supernatural evil – while, paradoxically, embracing the mystical shamanism of Lorraine Warren's practices – is standard issue for this franchise. The sequel also plays the eighties Satanic Panic completely straight, embracing the conspiracy theory that there's an underground network of organized devil-worshippers working to undermine good Christian families in America. Though Arne and Debbie perhaps brought it on themselves, since they are living in sin and fornicating without consent of the Lord after all. The two getting married at the end is presented as the story's moral victory, since even a film as contemptable of the truth as this couldn't deny that Arne totally went to jail. The villain is also notably a female occultist, who is depicted as a cartoonishly evil force despite having a totally understandable grudge against Christian institutions. It's all rather reactionary, more so than the full-blown Catholic propaganda of “The Conjuring 2.” Though, I suppose, still less reductive than the insultingly traditionalist moral of the first “Annabelle.”

Part of what makes Ed and Lorraine such worthy holy sentries against evil is that they are so devoutly dedicated to each other. (Something that is also only true within the “Conjuring”-verse's fictional universe.) Their love for each other is depicted as the source of their power, ultimately being enough to overcome the villain's evil magic at the end. It's an extremely cheesy message, another example of the script's unfailing hackiness. However, it's a testament to how lovable Vera Farmiga and Patrick Wilson has made these two that it almost works. Despite being stuck in a very dumb and very loud horror show, and forced to cough up preposterous dialogue, the leads remain so damn charming. When talking about their first date, which gratuitously comes back around at the end, I found the faintest hint of a smile tugging at my lips. It's dumb and obvious and ridiculous and the only hint of an actual, meaningful human emotion this very stupid movie contains. 

“The Conjuring” was always a deeply misguided and difficult to defend series. It's no coincidence that the best parts of this cinematic universe – the second and third “Annabelle” movies – disregard the Warrens and their scummy, wack-a-doo belief system in favor of urban legend style writing and more relaxed, seventies movie type atmospheres. The cowardice of “The Devil Made Me Do It” is most blatant in its decision to remove Carl Glatzel Jr. from the story all together. There's no room for skepticism in a film this thuddingly single-minded. Once again, as tempted as I am to attribute the movie's overall mediocrity to its rotten soul, I think the crime of it being so unfailingly loud and tedious probably offends me a lot more. Only Wilson and Farmiga's lived-in charm manages to make this jump-scare marathon anything more than dire. A motivation much more diabolical than the Devil's – to squeeze every last drop out of any semi-good idea and easily frightened audiences, in defiance of logic, the truth, and empathy – is perhaps the true force of evil at work here. [4/10]

RECENT WATCHES: Annabella Comes Home (2019)

The blood-thirsty capitalists love the "Cinematic Universe" model pioneered by Marvel, because it ensures a steady stream of "content." A new superhero movie in theaters every six months means constant growth, ideally, and that's what the Wall Street types are all about. Horror is a genre perhaps better suited to this "keep churning 'em out" method, since it thrives on low stakes and lower budgets. That's certainly a factor in why the "Conjuring" universe has been one of the few successful attempts to emulate the Marvel method. However, a non-stop release schedule produces other problems, beyond simply exhausting creatives and viewers. When the head director and producer of your venture has been roped into another cinematic universe, one that necessitates far lengthier production cycles, it can interrupt your tidy calendar. In brief: James Wan had made a commitment to "Aquaman," which meant "The Conjuring 3" was going to have to wait a minute. However, the series presented its own solution. It all circles back to the Warrens after all, right? Why not simply stick them in the next "Annabelle" movie? This was surely the logic behind "Annabelle Comes Home," which is as much "The Conjuring 2.5" as it is the third entry in the demonic doll spin-off series. The sequel would see Gary Dauberman graduating from writing "Annabelle" movies to directing them too.  

Beginning the night Ed and Lorraine Warren added little Annabelle to their museum of cursed artifacts, the spiritualists quickly deduce that the doll is an especially dangerous item. The focus then shifts to Judy, the couple's young daughter, who is beginning to share her mother's medium abilities. Mary Ellen is the family's reliable babysitter and she only knows about the Warrens' creepy occupation via reputation. Her friend Daniela, who blamed herself for the recent death of her father, knows a lot about the ghost hunters. While Mary Ellen is over to watch Judy for a night, Daniela invites herself in. She sneaks into the museum of haunted objects and, unaware of the doll's power, takes Annabelle out of her case. This starts a chain reaction of terror, the spirit attracting attributes of the doll drawing a whole horde of malevolent entities to the home. The three girls – plus Bob, Mary Ellen's dorky crush who has come over in an attempt to impress the girl – will have to return Annabelle back to her case if they hope to survive the night. 

Each entry in "The Conjuring" universe has acted as a homage to a genre classic. The original was "The Amityville Horror," the sequel was "The Exorcist." The first two "Annabelles" did "Rosemary's Baby" and "The Innocents," while "The Nun" riffed on Bava and Fulci. "Annabelle Comes Home" is set right around Halloween, orange decorations up at the school and pumpkins lining the grocery store. These autumnal vibes pair with a story about a teenage babysitter protecting herself and her ward from evil. There's a more adventurous friend, a bedwetting bully, and a love interest named Bob. In other words, John Carpenter's "Halloween" was the obvious inspiration here. Unlike most callbacks to the ur-slasher, Gary Dauberman and his team do a surprisingly good job of capturing the feel of Carpenter's film. The fashion, soundtrack, production design, and the hum of an old CRT television – showing period accurate programs like "The Dating Game" and "Circle of Fear" – heavily invoke the seventies setting. "Annabelle Comes Home" also captures the pace of a seventies flick. The first act is laid-back, devoted to establishing our heroines and capturing a normal, daily routine. The beginning of the sequel is basically a hang-out movie, with few outwardly sinister events that relish a chance to be around these guys.

Shocking me further, "Annabelle Comes Home" also revolves around a genuinely likable ensemble. Replacing Sterling Jerins as Judy Warren is McKenna Grace, one of those child actresses cursed with the kind of soulful eyes that imply wisdom beyond her years. This suits Judy's growing paranormal abilities, suggesting that the girl is already very familiar with otherworldly terror. At the same time, Grace plays Judy as still a shy, vulnerable little kid, exactly the kind of heroine we root for in a horror movie. Madison Iseman has a relaxed, girl-next-door charm as Mary Ellen, which compliments Katie Sarife making Daniela the bolder, more mischievous best friend. Despite Judy seeing ghosts and Daniela's dead dad, the characters are refreshingly unburdened by backstory. If anything, they are simply really likable. Judy is bullied and quiet, always relatable qualities. Mary Ellen and Daniela do nice things for her out of the kindness of their heart, like bake her a birthday cake. Even dorky Bob, with his humiliating nickname and gawky body language, comes across as a good-natured, everyday guy. His attempts to woo Mary ideally walk the line between actually cute and suitably awkward without stepping over into being off-putting. The group is distinct and I enjoyed spending time with them, which are not always guaranteed in a horror movie. 

That "Annabelle Comes Home" has such an enjoyable cast and pleasant tone is important as, on paper, this is as cynical as a franchise extension gets. By setting the whole movie around the Warrens' collection of relics, this essentially becomes a pitch reel for every spin-off idea the series' creators could think up. Most of the demonic spirits introduced come with catchy nicknames and a gimmicky curse, as set up in the Warrens' literal case files. A white wedding dress brings with it the spirit of a murderous bride. There's the Ferryman, a demonic entity who places coins over the eyes of its intended victims. The Black Shuck shows up as a spectral werewolf. Haunted objects that lack catchy nicknames include a TV that predicts future events, a samurai armor followed by murderous voices, a Feeley Meeley board game with a mind of its own, and a chattering toy monkey. (Likely inspired by the Stephen King story that Wan recently produced an adaptation of.) Annabelle herself has to be squeezed in there too, the demonic doll forced into a co-star role in her own sequel. This leads to an episodic story structure, as each guest ghost gets a set piece devoted entirely to them. The result plays almost like a "Conjuring"-themed anthology film, a collection of loosely connected episodes with exploitable premises of their own. 

What could have been a purely mercenary series of teasers for future movies ends up being a lot more fun than that. First off, throwing all these entities together makes this a monster mash, which I can always enjoy. Secondly, Dauberman shows some skill at creating ambiance and mood. Rather than the shock-a-minute style favored by Michael Chaves, Dauberman takes his time setting up each scare. When the jump comes, they are inevitably very loud. However, "Annabelle Comes Home" focusing as much on a shadowy, dusty ambiance as the shrieks create more of a fun house atmosphere. This is the fun kind of boo-show, rather than a tedious one. There are screaming spectres and people being dragged across the floor by unseen forces but only after the care has been taking to build up to it. Michael Burgess throws in some first person POV shots whenever that ghost werewolf is around, furthering the feeling that this is a light-hearted spook-a-blast as much as it is a collection of formulaic loud scares. A sequence where Judy spots the Bride during the day time, that she attempts to ignore at first, successfully brings the kind of childhood fears to mind that has been seriously lacking in "The Conjuring" for a while.

That almost all of "Annabelle Comes Home" is set in and around the Warrens' home creates a creative conservation of location that also helps build up the thrills a bit. Much like David F. Sandberg did with "Annabelle: Creation," the script makes sure to set up as many gags as possible in the first half. Mary Ellen having asthma or Judy having a slow rotating color lamp in her bedroom are definitely going to be important later, which only further sets up the sense of tension later. Being shown how a board game is played or a bell being introduced is an example of how tight the screenplay is, every scene preparing us for a later moment. It's a bit like Hitchcock's old saying about the bomb under the table. We are waiting for these elements to come back around. The movie rewards us for paying attention earlier. The aforementioned gag involving the lamp is probably the first time Annabelle herself has actually been spooky since her first appearance.

I'll admit, I first saw "Annabelle Comes Home" during a time in my life when I had a lot of free time and saw pretty much every horror movie that came out, no matter how mediocre it looked. Based on the lackluster quality of the original "Annabelle" – I hadn't caught up with "Creation" yet – I went into this one with rock bottom expectations. I came away liking it so much more than expected, finding it to be a genuinely fun and sweet horror show. I wondered if simply figuring the movie would suck made me overrate it a bit. However, this rewatch of "Annabelle Comes Home" proves it's actually a decently executed horror movie. Its batch of lovable, misfit characters and cleverly engineered seventies setting works for me so well that I'll go ahead and say it: This is the best, or at least my personal favorite, entry in the entire "Conjuring" franchise. Naturally, this means it was one of the lower grossing installments – though still generated a staggering profit margin – and no future films have come along to pick up on any of the plot points it introduced. Which is a bummer, because I really wanted to know what the story is behind that ghost werewolf. [7/10]

RECENT WATCHES: The Curse of La Llorona (2019)

It is possibly the most persistent piece of folklore in Latin American communities. Popularized by a 1849 sonnet by Mexican poet Manuel Carpio, there's evidence to suggest the myth might be as old as the 1500s, with pre-colonial roots in Aztec mythology. Either way, across countless regional variations, many elements remain consistent. She was often a mother of two children who was betrayed by an unfaithful husband. Like Medea, she drowned her babies as a form of revenge before becoming so grief-stricken that she took her own life. Now the spectre of this woman travels the world, always weeping like a Banshee and calling out for "mi mios." That is the legend of La Llorona, the Crying Woman. In most places, this is little more than a mere boogie-monster story, told to keep children from playing near bodies of water. Or to listen to their elders, as La Llorona is said to snatch any disobedient kid that reminds her of her lost offspring. However, reports of eerie cries persist. La Llorona is, in my opinion, a manifestation of an archetypal premise that has stretched around the globe. Whether it's Lamia of ancient Greece, Lilith of Hebrew myth, Baba Yaga of Slavic stories, or Kuchisake-onna of modern Japanese ghost tales, the idea of a monstrous woman who destroys life, instead of birthing it, seems to have a powerful resonance with our collective psyche. I want to write a book about this someday.

Whatever her origins are or what deeper meaning the story conveys, there's no doubt that La Llorona has become an icon of Latin-American culture. The story was initially told in cinema in 1933, in the first horror movie made in Mexico. It's been adapted many times since then, the wailing ghost truly establishing itself as the country's most prominent home-grown monster when she tangoed with Santo. The same year a critically acclaimed film loosely inspired by the legend came out of Guatemala, Warner Brothers and New Line Cinema would release “The Curse of La Llorona.” After being impressed by Michael Chaves' short, “The Maiden,” it became the first of three films from the director that James Wan produced. “The Curse of La Llorona” was not advertised as part of “The Conjuring” universe and Chaves insists it isn't an official entry in the series. I'm not sure how this is true, when it features Tony Amendola reprising the role of Father Perez from “Annabelle” and gives the demonic doll a cameo. Either way, Chaves has gone on to work exclusively in this franchise since, suggesting “The Curse of La Llorona” was always meant as a test run for the guy.

The first hint "The Curse of La Llorona" is part of the "Conjuring"-verse is that it is set in 1973 for no other discernable reason. Child protective services worker Anna – widowed mother of two kids herself, Chris and Samantha – investigates a woman named Patricia Alvarez. Her two sons have not been at school and Anna finds them locked in a closet with burns on their arms. The kids are taken away from Alvarez, much to her protesting. That night, the two boys are mysteriously drowned. Anna is called to the scene, forced to drag her own kids along. Patricia is suspected of the murders but she blames Anna. That she was protecting her boys from La Llorona, the Crying Woman of Spanish folklore. Anna doesn't believe any of that at first... Until Chris and Sam start to see a weeping spectre in a white gown, calling out to them and beckoning them towards the pool in the backyard. Anna's children are now marked by the curse of La Llorona. She seeks out the help of Rafael Olvera, a former Catholic priest and current shaman to stop the vengeful spirit and save her children. 

One can see why Michael Chaves was recruited into the "Conjuring" universe. "The Curse of La Llorona" shows a similar sort of classy, glossy ghost movie atmosphere that focuses on establishing a sense of place. The best thing about the film is the specificity of its 1970s LA setting. Anna seems to do okay for herself but there's still a sense of her struggling to get by, which she sees far worse examples of at work. Setting the film in a pre-digital era makes it feel more remote, its child characters more vulnerable. Chaves, cinematographer Michael Burgess, and the production designers do a good job of creating lived-in locations that look suitably foreboding. During its best moments, "The Curse of La Llorona" seems to be building towards an atmosphere of creepy dread, like in the first and superior "The Conjuring." A sequence of Patricia's sons wondering a hospital at night or La Llorona running her hands into Sam's hair as she takes a bath are actually almost effectively eerie, as far as the standards of these movies go. 

Unfortunately, every time "The Curse of La Llorona" starts to build up any creepy ambiance at all, the film quickly throws it all away in favor of the loudest jump-scare it can assault the viewer with. Whenever an inkling of suspense or tension starts, it inevitably crashes into a loud shriek. Often literally, as the film is extremely fond of shoving the screaming, ghostly face of its titular antagonist right at us, her corpse-like visage enhanced with some tacky CGI. By its last act, "The Curse" has become an endless cacophony of screams, loud musical stings from Joseph Bishara's thundering score, and spectral leaps at the viewer. It shows a serious lack of balance. Otherwise decent moments, like one of the kids getting dragged backwards through the house or furniture moving in a crowded attic by itself, are rendered totally inert by the constant need to screech at us. The result proves more tedious than scary, the endless bludgeoning of loudness that merely numbs us to whatever effect these individual beats might have had otherwise. 

"The Curse of La Llorona" earned an R-rating without being especially gory or salacious almost certainly because there are so many dead kids in the movie. The opening flashback to 1673, a totally unnecessary scene meant to provide an origin for the wailing ghost, doesn't waste much time before showing us some primary school age youngsters being drowned. Making Anna a child welfare worker causes the theme of parental abuse to be more than an abstract concept. When Anna sees the Alvarez boys imprisoned and with burns, it's literally her job to remove kids from situations like that. However, once her kids are marked by the ghost, Anna suddenly finds herself going through the same dilemma Patricia went through. To the point that CPS gets called on her. The fear of a parent becoming that thing that most disgusts her might've been a powerful theme. However, there's never any ambiguity in the film about the reality of the ghost, the audience knowing that all of Anna's actions are totally justified. What she's doing isn't potential abuse or a meaningful parallel to the other branches of the story. This makes "The Curse of La Llorona" merely a ghost story and not a film about anything deeper, like child abuse or the fear of fucking up your kid that every parent has. 

Perhaps a reason why legends like La Llorona and all the descendants of Lilith have been such a common idea throughout human history is because it reinforces patriarchal gender roles. A woman is a mother, the stories seem to say. To destroy the children she births turns her into a monster that kills all children, everywhere. Least we forget that she committed double infanticide in the first place to spite an unfaithful husband, who the stories never mention much. Societal standards of the time dictate that it's the woman's fault and she deserves the distinction of monsterhood. Not that "The Curse of La Llorona" grapples with any of these ideas. In fact, it's not an especially good representation of the myth it claims to be about. This Weeping Woman seems to do a whole more screaming than crying. She also burns her victims' skin, despite being repeatedly associated with the watery elements. Mikki Daughtry and Tobias Iaconis' script instead treat La Llorona like a generic evil ghost. They invent an underwhelming mythology around the ghost, giving her a weakness to the seeds and wood of the "fire tree" that grew by the river she drowned her kids in. Feels like that should've cropped up earlier at some point in the five hundred years the ghost has been doing this shit, ya know? It turns a specific, culturally resonant piece of folklore into a gentrified movie monster that can be vanquished. 

The most cynical part of me suspects that Warner Brothers greenlit "The Curse of La Llorona" to appeal to the growing Latino/Spanish speaking marketplace, among which horror is a historically popular genre. At the same time, I wonder if risk adverse execs feared an actual Latina lead would be too alienating to the pastier parts of Americans. By which I mean, why does a film about Mexican-American folklore star Linda Cardellini? Cardellini isn't given much to do besides scream and panic, especially as the film goes on, but is still far more charming than the material demanded. She has strong chemistry with the actors playing her kids and Raymond Cruz as Rafael, who brings some dry sarcasm to the part. The movie probably should have been about Patricia Alvarez, played by Patricia Velásquez, instead. Making the lead a white woman threatened by a scary brown legend, who needs a culturally foreign mystic to save her, causes unfortunate racist and exotic implications. Not that weirdly retrograde subtext is out of the ordinary for "The Conjuring" universe. At least the film is not as blatant in being Vatican propaganda as "Annabelle" or "The Nun," though it's still steeped in the idea that Catholic priests are the protector of children, instead of anything else involving children. 

In other words, "The Curse of La Llorona" is not a good movie and is especially not a good horror movie. When I saw it in theaters – Thanks AMC A-List! – I hated it. I went so far as to list it as the 2019 release I enjoyed the least. Perhaps watching "The Conjuring" series in order has made me grow fonder, or at least less annoyed, by this very loud kind of studio spook show. Maybe on second viewing, when you go in knowing you're getting a non-stop jump scare-fest that thoroughly wastes all the potential it has, you can focus more on the parts you don't hate as much. Expectations and all. Perhaps I simply think Linda Cardellini is cute. Either way, "The Curse of La Llorona" pissed me off less on this viewing. It is disposable at best, mildly racist at worst, and is very lame in every way that matters. But I do like the leads and the seventies setting, which counts for something, I suppose. There are better – and much worse – movies about the legendary Crying Woman out there. [4/10]