The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It
Warner BrosThe Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It is the third film in the Warren Trilogy and the eighth film overall in the now highly successful horror Conjuring series. The rule of thumb within the horror genre is that with succession, regardless of the esteemed nature of the franchise, a series always loses steam. This third entry undoubtedly brings the franchise back to its roots. However, it offers a very intriguing analysis of what may be yet to come, for better or worse.
For starters, this Conjuring film finds itself at a crossroads. Esteemed creative and director/producer of this franchise, James Wan departs the director's chair, and his presence is unequivocally missed. Both behind the camera and the spearhead of passion behind the process. While his creative digital process often undermined his thematics on the first Conjuring entry, his use of such aesthetic in its sequel led to a wholeheartedly frightening horror that left ego at the door.
With Wan and his fluid camera work out, Michael Chaves - director of The Curse of La Llorona, steps behind the camera. At first, a worrying thought, but Chaves puts a definite shift in, and gives his own artistic impression while also keeping the foundation solid. Granted, the camera work is not as smooth, nor is the creative effort on show to truly optimise the experience. Nevertheless, coupled with returning franchise cinematographer Michael Burgess, the pair create often immersive iconography, even if sequences and composition can be pulled apart for being visually derivative.
Interestingly, the scares and conventions are surprisingly put on the backburner. That is not to say they are not still here in proportion and still effective, but on reflection, the audience can count them on the one hand—a strange feat for a horror franchise with such magnitude and esteem as this. More interesting is this feature takes more of an internal viewpoint within itself. Characters are crafted and explored with more endeared emotion and passion. Thankfully, while Wan has departed the directors' chair, he returns as writer, along with David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick, whom both still manage to find room and passion in this story, emphasising the Warren's themselves but more on that later. The enemy this time around is not just the occult, it is more so on a human level than ever before, and thus the endangerment is intensified and internalised rather than the "big" spectacle the franchise is known for.
A stronger focus on the films tortured souls like previous instalments is still present and well-performed by Ruairi O'Connor and Sarah Catherine Hook. Both add an endearing element of immersion through their respective characters arcs, and while it shows nothing necessarily new it adds enough depth for the audience to care for the pair's predicament.
More infuriating is the actual direction and construction of sequences themselves. The aforementioned creative endeavour from Wan is so sorely missed when watching what could have been in this instalment. As said, Chaves does a decent effort, but on occasion, the scene blocking, and production design are just incredibly flat. Sequences don't gel or blend effectively for full thematic effect. Specific set pieces feel fed through the system rather than feeling or being fresh and unique. Most of the third act descends into visual chaos with Chaves and Burgess not understanding the power of lighting and instead they submerge the feature in almost complete darkness, all of which loses its integral power this series has so far curated.
Nevertheless, the glue that keeps this together is the starring double act of Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga as Ed and Lorraine Warren, respectively. The dynamic duo has been sorely missed, and while their bloated cameos in Annabelle Comes Home sufficed for the meantime, their performance here fills the long-waited void. The result here is better than ever. The two have beautiful chemistry with warming passion that oozes through the screen, and while it may get a little weepy, they bring forward a caring and loving depiction of affection and its power. Their range respectively is equally as powerful; when things turn up to eleven - as per this franchise - the tension is fortified and elevated due to the pair's dynamic and engaging arcs.
However, it does ultimately cause a concern as now it is clear that without Annabelle and the Warrens together or solo, this universe does not have the legs it perhaps thought it did. Time is running out contextually for the character one way or another, and while this film most certainly isn't the end, it does beg the question of where the creatives want to take this franchise because, without the Warren's, this feature would no doubt fall on its arse.
