The Conjuring: Last Rites

The Weight of Silence

There is a moment in *The Conjuring: Last Rites* where the screaming stops. It is not the silence of peace, but the airless vacuum that precedes a thunderclap. For over a decade, the *Conjuring* universe has operated on a specific frequency—a blend of Catholic dogma, carnival-ride jump scares, and the comforting, unwavering competence of Ed and Lorraine Warren. But here, in what is billed as the final chapter of the mainline series, director Michael Chaves attempts something riskier than a mere exorcism: he tries to perform a eulogy while the body is still warm. The result is a film that feels less like a horror movie and more like a melancholy meditation on legacy, aging, and the terrifying realization that some evils cannot be prayed away, only endured.



Visually, Chaves has finally stepped out of the shadow of James Wan. Where Wan favored the kinetic—the camera that zooms through keyholes and pans across ceilings—Chaves and cinematographer Eli Born opt for a suffocating stillness. The film, set in the mid-80s, is drenched in the sepia-toned anxiety of a fading era. The production design by John Frankish renders the Smurl family home not just as a haunted house, but as a pressure cooker of domestic decay. The terror here isn't just the demon in the mirror; it’s the wallpaper peeling in the heat, the clutter of a life interrupted, and the claustrophobic framing that traps the characters in boxes of their own making. The use of analog technology—scuzzy VHS footage and the static of CRT televisions—creates a texture of dread that feels tactile, dirty, and profoundly human.

At the center of this storm, as always, are Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga. It is impossible to overstate how vital their chemistry has been to this franchise’s longevity. In *Last Rites*, they play the Warrens not as superheroes of the supernatural, but as tired warriors looking for the exit. Ed’s heart condition—a narrative thread carried over from *The Devil Made Me Do It*—hangs over the film like a blade. Wilson plays Ed with a touching fragility; his physical strength is waning, forcing him to rely on a desperate, sweating faith. Farmiga, conversely, is the film's emotional anchor. Her Lorraine is no longer just a conduit for the divine, but a mother terrified that her "gift" is actually a curse she has passed down to her daughter, Judy (Mia Tomlinson).



This generational trauma is the film's true antagonist. While the plot concerns a mirror demon terrorizing the Smurl family, the real conflict is internal. The script wisely pivots to Judy, allowing Tomlinson to shine as a woman trying to reconcile her normal life with her parents' abnormal crusade. The scene where Lorraine realizes she must stop protecting Judy and instead teach her to weaponize her clairvoyance is the film’s emotional climax, far more powerful than the inevitable CGI showdown that follows. It transforms the narrative from a standard "haunted object" story into a poignant allegory about parenting: the realization that we cannot shield our children from the world's darkness, but we can teach them how to navigate the shadows.

However, the film is not without its stumbling blocks. The third act, mandated by the laws of blockbuster horror, descends into a chaotic spectacle that threatens to undo the quiet dread built in the first hour. The subtle terror of a reflection that moves a second too late is replaced by telekinetic violence that feels rote. Yet, Chaves manages to reel it back in for a finale that feels earned. By focusing on the "passing of the torch" to Judy and her fiancé Tony (Ben Hardy), the film acknowledges that the Warrens' watch has ended, not with a bang, but with the quiet grace of a job finished.



*The Conjuring: Last Rites* is an imperfect but deeply felt conclusion. It lacks the sheer, visceral innovation of the 2013 original, but it replaces it with a soulful weariness that resonates. It suggests that faith is not a magic wand, but a burden to be carried together. As the screen fades to black on the real Ed and Lorraine, we are reminded that while the demons may be CGI, the love that fought them was real. In a genre often defined by cynicism and slaughter, that sincere belief in the power of family remains the Warrens' most enduring trick.