The Conjuring 2 says it's in craftsmanship. Director James Wan helms a good old-fashioned scarefest, with a penchant for mischief and toying with its audience.
Instead of a '70s farmhouse in the bayou, we're given a '70s English townhouse where the Hodgson family - mother Peggy (Frances O'Connor), oldest daughter Margaret (Lauren Esposito), younger daughter Janet (Madison Wolfe), older son Johnny (Patrick McAuley), and youngest son Billy (Benjamin Haigh) - resides.
To the tune of The Clash's "London Calling," we see England in tumultuous spirits: liberty-spiked punks walk the street; a newspaper headline warns of England's bread shortage; government protest rage on. Turmoil carries to the Hodgsons: dad is gone, and on Peggy's income, it's tough to feed a family of five.
Negative energy, Ed says, facilitates paranormal activity.
"They like to kick you when you're down," he says.
Janet starts seeing and hearing things go bump in the night, and not before long, the episodes escalate to more physical manifestations. One of the film's funnier scenes sees the police investigating disturbances in the house when a chair, before their very eyes, slides down the hallway and into its rightful place at the dinner table. Needless to say, this is beyond law enforcement.
While Janet is plagued, Lorraine continues to struggle with the consequences of talking with spirits. It's her character, and Farmiga's earnest, understated performance, that really distinguishes the Conjuring franchise from other horror movies.
She's afflicted by visions of a nun-faced demon and premonitions of her husband's death. Could these visions be connected to London? Have you seen a haunting movie before?
James Wan is the perfect marriage of William Castle and John Carpenter.
The former put the "show" in spookshow. In screenings of House on Haunted Hill, Castle would plant a skeleton on the ceiling. When it was time, he would cut a cord and the skeleton would swing into the crow, barely missing the audience's heads.
Of the latter, Guillermo Del Toro praised Carpenter's ability to direct scares with mathematical precision, knowing just the right time and manner to catch the audience off-guard and maximize the jump out of their seats.
When these two forces meet, you get a prankster who's skilled enough to truly get you. Wan will direct a scare you've seen in other movies, but subvert it enough to become new. We'll call this Scare A. In Scare B, the scene will guide you to think it's Scare A, but then shift and get you in another manner. And the same is true for all of them, but the great thing is that with each scare, the moments in Scare Z that remind you of Scares, A, E, and L are convincing red herrings.
Where other horror films rely on muted blacks, grays, and blues, this movie's '70s setting allows for vibrant uses of yellows, oranges, and reds. Where other films use violins to jolt and sting, Joseph Bishara's angular score lets the mood sink into your bones, twisting the metaphorical knife in your gut as you anticipate the scares.
From day one, The Conjuring found its strength where all good horror movies find them: their characters. In recent years, Hollywood has interpreted from the "torture porn" boom that audiences only care about the spectacle. The Human Centipede lauded its "medical accuracy"; the Paranormal Activity series, with each installment, grasped for gaudier gimmicks to get teens to hop out of their seats; The Gallows made its camera-wielding protagonist utterly loathsome so we'd anticipate a swift death.
Here's the problem. Watching these movies are like wading through a dungpile for a diamond ring. Eventually, I'm gonna get there, but in the end, is it really worth it?
Carey and Chad Hayes, credited for the characters, understand that the more our heroes feel like us, the easier it is to immerse ourselves in their story. These people - the strong-willed, but tired Peggy, the cheeky, but good-hearted Janet, the Warrens, who complement and love each other so much it's damn palpable - are people that we, in some aspects, are. We care for them because in some way, we see reflections of ourselves. Therefore, when they're in danger, we're in danger, and the movie (listen close, Hollywood) becomes scarier as a result. You're going to get your jumps, your shrieks, and your relieved hyper-giggling. But the effort MUST come first.
And so, Wan and crew are proven right. It's been so long that I've seen a "3,000-plus theatres" horror movie where the audience felt genuinely happy to be there, happy to share in the spooks and laughter, immerse themselves in the creepiness and the struggle of the characters. With The Conjuring 2, James Wan has made mainstream horror fun again. So go out and support this in the theaters, 'cause money talks, and if you want more smart, inventive, exciting, and downright fun scary movies, you gotta put your wallet on the line.
Thank you all for reading. I'm the Man Without a Plan, signing off.
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