Directed by Michael Chaves
Written by David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick
Starring Vera Farmiga, Patrick Wilson, Ruairi O'Connor
Rated R for terror, violence and some disturbing images
Runtime: 1 hour 52 minutes
In theaters and streaming HBO Max June 4

by A. Freedman, Staff Writer

With seven films already in its pocket, the universe of films revolving around the case files of Ed and Lorraine Warren–the "Conjuring verse"–is the second most profitable horror film franchise of all time, behind only Godzilla. Perhaps inflation is partly responsible for this, but producer James Wan (Saw, Furious 7) and co. have proved a talent for delivering on what scares modern movie goers at the multiplex. Taking our fascination for true crime and documented hauntings and running it through a haunted house at Halloween filter, the movies are designed to get butts in seats. While Wan masterfully directed the first two of the centerpiece films–The Conjuring and The Conjuring 2–he handed the keys to young director Michael Chaves (who directed the recent franchise entry, The Curse Of La Llorona) for trilogy finale, The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It, with mixed results.

This film continues to follow fictionalized versions of Ed and Lorraine Warren (Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga), the kooky paranormal church-approved investigators presented on-screen as a lovable small town couple. This time they are not working with a haunted house, but with a grizzly murder. Arne Johnson (Ruairi O'Connor) was a young Connecticut man in the early 1980's who killed his landlord, and claimed that, yes, the devil made him do it. The Warrens, who knew Johnson from an earlier case, are brought on to investigate.

Rather than repeat the successful formula of the first two, Chaves and co. bring a procedural narrative to the fold. This also continues the increasingly conservative, Christian streak that the films have been more openly embracing. The real trial of Arne Johnson happened in the midst of widespread fears of Satanic ritual abuse (SRA), or "Satanic Panic", and the film does not shy away from it. Co-ocurring with Reagan era conservative backlash, the unfounded fears of SRA that accompanied the rise of heavy metal were of course just an updated version of a religious hysteria that pre-dated the inception of America. It is an interesting choice indeed, for the film to openly embrace the tropes of Satanic Panic, especially in an era where it seems to be making a comeback in very troubling ways.

The open embrace could be excused if the film had found interesting ways to approach the material. Instead, TDMMDI is a fairly lukewarm entry more on par with the Annabelle films, suggesting a franchise starting to repeat itself in increasingly dull ways. Wan's shoes are big ones to fill from the director's chair. The studio maestro has considerable formal chops to speak of, and even if they are ultimately pretty basic- he still has an unmatched capacity to make my skin crawl. Chaves doesn't try to copy him, which is admirable, but he also doesn't add much of his own style either. The result is a competent, watchable collection of jump scares, carried mostly by the comforting presence of Wilson and Farmiga, who feel kind of like parents that hold your hand during the scary parts.

As the franchise noticeably runs out of steam, one hopes that Wan and co. can quit while they're ahead and put an end to things. I am thankful that they brought something new to the horror world, that didn't involve just rebooting old IP. Horror aficiandos and mainstream audiences alike seem to enjoy these films like they would a favorite breakfast cereal from childhood. That is all well and good. Still, one hopes that audiences can start to learn there is a more delicious breakfast to be had, if only they raised the bar of their own expectations a little bit.