The Conjuring: Last Rites (2025) would sound like a non-cynical, fitting end to the nine-film franchise that revolves around the prolific ghost encounters of Ed and Lorraine Warren. Yet, you don’t become the highest-grossing horror franchise without overextending yourself. By some measure, Last Rites suffers from balancing the finale of the Warrens’ cinematic tenure with a forced narrative that introduces a new generation of Warrens taking their place, while also executing a haunted house thrillfest that calls back to the qualities that make these films so successful.
Ever since James Wan’s directorial departure (he’s remained as a producer for the franchise since his last outing with 2016’s The Conjuring 2), Michael Chaves has taken over as ringleader for the series, having directed the last three entries. While fans will bemoan that he lacks the cinematic “juice” Wan effortlessly infuses into his films, it’s clear from the quality of these films that Chaves has grown more confident in his directing with each installment, putting more thought and effort into the camera, how to create tension with effective lighting and framing that can come close to the majesty of The Conjuring (2013), and capturing the endearing, authentic chemistry of stars Vera Farmiga and Patrick Wilson.
It’s hard for these films not to feel repetitive of prior entries, as the writing never strays from the template of its cinematic universe (one that’s been profitable for Warner Bros.). Like prior Conjuring films, it intertwines the Warrens’ internal family dynamics, complemented by a famous “true” (in the loosest sense) haunting. It’s 1986, and Ed and Lorraine have stopped taking active cases and spend their time traveling to lecture halls, detailing their history to sparse attendance, as the profession of ghost and demonology is viewed through a lens of mockery by a snide Ghostbusters reference from an attendee.
Meanwhile, in West Pittston, Pennsylvania, the Smurl family experiences a terrifying haunting that propels them to invite a media frenzy to spotlight their predicament. While the Warrens initially pass on examining it, their past connection to a cracked mirror in the Smurl household beckons them back to confront the malevolent demonic presence connected to the birth of their daughter, Judy (Mia Tomlinson).
Judy is all grown up now and brings over a potential fiancé, Tony (Ben Hardy), who slowly learns the depth of the Warrens. Naturally, Tony gets caught up in the frightening investigation with the Warrens, and Judy learns how much she’s been keeping her mother’s clairvoyant powers dormant. That is, until the evil forces start to overwhelm her.
For what is meant to be a final outing (I’ll believe it when I see it), screenwriters Ian Goldberg, Richard Naing, and David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick cram as much as they can, ruining the film’s pacing. As Farmiga and Wilson depart their coveted roles, it seems the franchise wants to prepare Judy and Toby as the next successors, contextualizing Judy’s reluctance to embrace her otherworldly gifts while infusing humor with Ed’s lackluster confidence in Tony’s capability in handling the dangers of being a Warren. It’s a problem for any film operating in a cinematic universe: establishing new characters and threads to be picked up in the future.
The second act suffers from sluggish pacing, as the film can’t devote enough time to Ed and Lorraine’s plans for retirement, Judy’s coming-of-age as a clairvoyant, and the Smurl family’s reckoning that demons are plaguing their family. Unlike previous films, there’s a lackluster effort in endearing the Smurls as a cohesive family we can resonate with, as the scares have to ratchet up immediately.
When one of the daughters has bloody glass coming out of her mouth or the dad is levitating and being choked above his wife, they feel devoid of care. They’re reduced to screaming props. The Smurls feel ousted from their own haunting, which is a far cry from the Perron and Hodgson families of the previous films, as being the central focus allowed time to develop the family camaraderie as unique individuals rather than a group of scared, indistinct people.
The Conjuring films have always felt separated from the standard spook-house horror by the actors involved and the level of production value. They’re mid-budget films that have the backing of a major studio and are treated like blockbusters. They avoid the stigma of feeling cheap or rushed due to Wan’s recreation of a scared, unsuspecting America of the 1970s that was more susceptible to stories of hauntings and exorcism amidst the Warrens’ investigations.
Chaves doesn’t quite match the level of Wan’s prowess, yet he does continue the visual continuity of balancing effective, tension-filled set-pieces with startling imagery and purposeful compositions. It’s tremendous to see Chaves feel more assured behind the camera since The Curse of La Llorona (2019). One personal favorite moment involves a Smurl daughter replaying a VHS tape to rewind and pause to catch another presence blowing out her celebratory cake. It’s a potent sequence that exemplifies why audiences will torture themselves to endure a well-earned scare.
No matter how far the quality of the Conjuring films may have dipped over the years, what hasn’t dipped are the excellent performances from Farmiga and Wilson. This is where horror movies can work solely due to the talent involved, as both actors have remained consistent in their loving, warm embrace of each other while conquering demons. There’s a cheesiness to how formidable their love can withstand the supernatural, yet the charming charisma exuded by both actors has been everlasting over the last twelve years.
Farmiga, in particular, gives one of her best outings as Lorraine, playing her with immense vulnerability and fear for the danger her daughter is in—there’s nothing quite like Farmiga’s scream of terror. Wilson remains steadfast as Ed, displaying enough strength to hide that his weak heart can only take so much (almost collapsing after a competitive ping-pong game with Toby). His bravery and unwavering determination are a testament to Wilson’s actorly presence.
The surprise performances in Last Rites are Orion Smith and Madison Lawlor as the 1964 versions of Ed and a nine-months pregnant Lorraine Warren. They appear in the film’s opening prologue, which sets off their first intense encounter with a demon that becomes entangled with Lorraine in the narrative. This close encounter sets off a decade-long journey of Lorraine and Judy coming to terms with their relationship of who they are when it comes to the supernatural. Both Smith and Lawlor are excellent as the younger Warrens, indicating early hints and semblances of the chemistry and dynamic Wilson and Farmiga would perfect.
Conjuring films feel almost outdated in the Ari Aster/Jordan Peele post-modern era of horror. They remain a lucrative business, as Last Rites looks to open big and operate in a special place that warrants the significance of the communal theatrical experience. Yet, they’re not interested in reinventing the wheel or subverting expectations. They understand their fans expect creepy faces, doors slowly opening, a slight jump scare preceded by high-strung violins and cellos (courtesy of composer Benjamin Wallfisch), and Ed defiantly reading from a bible as Lorraine undergoes a spiritual battle.
Last Rites doesn’t suffer from the expected old tropes laden in these films; they do too much to induce a feeling of grandeur than perfecting the fundamentals of horror—being scary. The climax feels more rushed and slapped-together than an organic battle of good and evil. Special effects become more prominent, thus robbing the film of its realism that made the previous climaxes impactful.
The franchise has varying degrees of quality, yet none of the entries have matched the explosive freshness that is James Wan’s near-masterpiece of premium horror. The Conjuring was a mid-budget film backed by a major studio and was given the blockbuster treatment. The original fared so well from test screenings that Warner Bros. changed the release to come out in the middle of summer, making it the first major horror film to premiere in the summer season since The Omen (2006). And it spawned an expansive franchise that, like all franchises, has worn out its appeal.
The summer of 2025 has seen kids get smashed into a pulp by a piano in Final Destination: Bloodlines and a wicked entity run and flail her arms as a gang of children try to rip her to shreds in Weapons. The Conjuring: Last Rites, though, feels nostalgic for an era where creaky doors and ghostly shadows appearing behind you could still get a jolt out of you. It’s respectful of a franchise that started it all while allowing the Warrens to go on one last adventure and remind us that sometimes old scares can still work, if finely tuned. Chaves mildly succeeds in the void of Wan’s presence, yet Wan’s authorial spectre will always loom over any future entry without his directorial stamp. One could say this franchise is cursed by that fact.
Review Courtesy of Amritpal Rai
Feature Image Credit to Warner Bros. via IGN
Recent Comments