The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It might be the eighth instalment in James Wan’s horror franchise but it’s only the fourth outing for Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga as the Warrens, the OG paranormal investigators whose case files have provided much of the inspiration for the demonic stories being told. It’s good to have them back in action, for as much as these sinister tales have relied on various claims of paranormal activity, from haunted houses and dolls to demon nuns, the ghost-hunting duo prove once again why they are very much the series’ beating heart.
Wan refuses to ease you in gently, pulling out all the paranormal stops.
Wan and co-writer David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick refuse to ease you in gently, pulling out all the paranormal stops, from jump scares to contorting bodies and inanimate objects flying all over the place, as Lorraine and Ed aid the exorcism of 11-year-old David Glatzel (Julian Hilliard). This opening sequence runs the gamut of horror-movie references, borrowing visuals from The Exorcist, Psycho and The Shining, but the franchise certainly has its own horror signature which continues with each subsequent demonic encounter. Director Michael Chaves (The Curse Of La Llorona) slowly builds fear through close-ups shot with a wide-angle lens, heightened sound mixing and the wielding of light and darkness before an aggressive crescendo of horror makes you want to cower in your seat.
But this is a supernatural game of two halves, as the story veers away from the haunted-house trope and leans into detective territory and Satanic cult worship to eye-rolling effect. This pivot only serves to bloat the script, perpetuate ‘Satanic Panic’ misconceptions and move away from the grounded quality that made the first two Conjuring movies so compelling. It all just gets rather silly, to the point that even the late Warrens, who were known for having embellished much of the supernatural detail of their cases, might think it’s a bit much.
