The Conjuring: Unpolished But Startling

It's been said that the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he doesn't exist, and for all of its demonic frills, The Conjuring recognizes spiritual realities more acutely than other horror movies and even other non-horror movies. Hell is a real place, and we've too many real-life accounts of dark, supernatural forces to dismiss the idea of a darker kingdom, which The Conjuring certainly doesn't. Loosely based on the true story of a case of demonic possession from the 1970s, it chronicles the Perron family's desperate plea for help to a pair of paranormal investigators after their new and surprisingly dilapidated home displays less-than-subtle signs of a demonic presence, the fault of either Lucifer himself, a woefully bad real estate agent, or some combination of the two. It's an often-startling experience, and it's easy to see why horror movie fans talk about it so much, even though they may have missed some of the nitty-gritty as far as its imperfections are concerned. The bottom line is that this movie is very often acutely terrifying, and given that the scares of The Conjuring are its selling point, it doesn't have to do much hassling to get me to buy it for what it is, especially since what it is is an effective horror movie, if not much more than just that.

The Conjuring is a roller coaster of a movie, but I have to begin by acknowledging the ugly elephant in the room and admitting that it's a movie that's better experienced than it is looked at. The color grade of this movie is painfully unattractive, causing all the individual colors in the frame to bleed together into something of a black-brown sludge that doesn't do it any favors. The colors themselves don't ever become more pleasant to look at, though there are some incredible long-take shots in this movie that are able to evoke most often dread, but also a strange sense of curiosity at some points and even wonder at others. One such follow shot - this one upside-down - features one of the children of the Perron family checking for the proverbial monster under the bed in her room after she hears a strange noise, and it's an admittedly mesmerizing moment. Watching The Conjuring feels like unearthing some sort of cinematic tomb, and while I knew that whatever this family and their paranormal investigators for-hire discovered couldn't be good, I walked into this movie virtually blind, and the more I watched, the more thankful I became that I didn't know much of anything about it beforehand. The mystery of the house never stops being intriguing.

What's less intriguing about The Conjuring is its reasonably large cast. It doesn't put in any reasonable effort to distinguish between any of the characters. All of the Perron daughters act more or less the same way, with Mr. Perron and investigator Lorraine being the only characters in this movie that seem like their own people, and only because they're of either different ages, genders, or backgrounds than everyone else. This movie simply contains too many characters for its less-than-two-hour runtime, and fails to make enough of them interesting, partially because it doesn't ever really try to, not that it would have been capable of it. Still, this movie is a patient one, and it takes an ample amount of time to tend to a creeping sense of unease that eventually takes its explosive horror setpieces quite far once the other shoe drops; the first one taps on the floor for quite some time, and The Conjuring remains both mysterious and menacing in some really satisfying ways. Take the legendary Annabelle doll, for instance - yes, this is that movie. We're taught to fear her evil presence from the very beginning, a presence that's injected into seemingly every dusty corner and cob-webbed crevice of the story.

In spite of the tangible mystery, the thematic goals of The Conjuring are reasonably predictable in and of themselves, yet the movie sometimes shows glimpses of a desire to be more than mere horror spectacle. One of Lorraine's skills is a paranormal insight into the spiritual status of a room, and it's a trick that is used in some surprisingly diverse ways, both to frightening - but also occasionally sweet - effect. This is an oppressively dark movie, but it knows when to let the albeit brief and somewhat insignficant light shine through. Fundamentally, this movie has a lot going for it, yet it often abstractly falls flat, if only because it tries to be complex just often enough to make you wish it were more than only a horror movie. Still, for what it is, The Conjuring is more than enough in the right ways with all the wrong ones being just impotent enough.

The Conjuring is a very scary movie that doesn't have much else going for it, and don't hear me necessarily knocking it when I say that. The best comparison I can think of would be to Denis Villeneuve's Prisoners, as arbitrary a comparison as that may seem. I mean that to say that if Prisoners is a triumph of technical proficiency and a failure of cliches, then The Conjuring is a triumph of cliches and a failure of technical prowess. Nevertheless, it's easy to see why horror movie aficionados have latched onto it. The scares in this movie are both patient and intelligent, and I'd argue that this is what matters most in the context of a horror movie. This is an intense movie to watch, and even if it lacks some much-needed polish, it's fundamentally terrifying and emotionally taxing. I wouldn't exactly call it high art, but when it was at its best, the pencil marks of The Conjuring dug painfully deep.

The Conjuring - 7/10

Luke 11:24-28