Rating: ★★★ (3/5)

“The Conjuring: Last Rites – A Farewell Wrapped in Shadows”

Creating yet another film in the Conjuring franchise is no easy task. The series has already delivered three main installments and several spin-offs filled with cursed nuns, haunted dolls, and shadowy monsters that leap out at you. With so many scares behind it, the big question becomes: what new tricks can still make audiences uneasy when they’ve already seen so much?

The Conjuring: Last Rites chooses not to go louder, darker, or more extravagant. Instead, it shifts the tone. Rather than focusing only on startling viewers, the film aims to leave them with a feeling of closure. Acting as a kind of swan song, it leans more toward family conflict and emotional stakes than nonstop horror thrills. This creative risk makes the conclusion stand out—though it may not satisfy everyone, it certainly leaves a distinct impression.

At the heart of the film is the case that ultimately shattered Ed and Lorraine Warren. This investigation marked the moment they walked away from the field for good. When the story begins, the couple is already retired, enjoying a calmer life away from exorcisms and midnight calls. Yet, one unexpected incident pulls them back into the darkness they thought they had escaped forever.

From the very first act, the film makes it clear this isn’t just another haunting. It frames the narrative as the final chapter in their journey. Yes, the demons, possessions, and rituals are present, but they serve a deeper purpose this time.

These horrors act as triggers, revealing the heavy toll of decades spent confronting the supernatural. Watching the Warrens falter, fight, and ultimately surrender is a sobering reminder that even the strongest warriors eventually wear down. It’s not portrayed as a collapse, but rather as an inevitable conclusion.

The story begins with a flashback to 1964, where a young Ed and Lorraine Warren take on one of their earliest cases while Lorraine is pregnant with their daughter, Judy. What appears to be a routine investigation quickly descends into tragedy, resulting in an early delivery. From that moment, Judy becomes forever tied to a sinister presence that refuses to let her go.

Rather than relying on immediate jump scares, this opening establishes the film’s emotional core—a family crisis. Judy is portrayed not simply as the child of paranormal investigators, but as someone marked from birth. Through montages and glimpses of her later years, the audience sees her struggle into adolescence and adulthood, always haunted by the feeling of being watched.

Lorraine’s attempts to comfort Judy, using lullabies and gentle reassurances, suggest that the fear exists only in her daughter’s imagination. Yet the viewers know better. The lurking shadow never truly leaves Judy, no matter how much her mother tries to convince her otherwise.

As Judy grows older, she finds love in Tony—a partner who embraces the burdens of her family’s dark legacy. He knows the history of exorcisms, whispers of hauntings, and lingering rumors, yet he chooses to stay by her side and marry her. His presence offers Judy comfort, but it also sparks one of the film’s most compelling questions: can anyone truly live a normal life with demons lurking in their family history?

From here, the story shifts into long stretches of family drama. Conversations, relationships, and emotions take center stage, often overshadowing the scares. Viewers expecting relentless horror may find themselves restless, but for those invested in the Warrens as people rather than just ghost-hunters, this approach draws them in. Instead of being a showcase of monsters, the saga transforms into a chronicle of a family haunted by both love and loss.

One of the script’s smartest choices is its symmetry. The very demon that tormented Lorraine during Judy’s birth returns as the final adversary. The Warrens’ journey begins and ends with the same shadow, closing the circle with poetic inevitability. The film frames this not as defeat, but as closure. Their undoing comes not from a new terror, but from the same force that has stalked them from the beginning. It resembles a myth—where the hero returns to their starting point only to discover the ending was always waiting there.

Of course, fans don’t buy tickets to a Conjuring movie expecting pure family drama. They come for fear. On that front, the film’s 135-minute runtime offers only a handful of chilling moments—the cursed mirror, the baptisms steeped in dread, and a few eerie long-shot reveals. Beyond these, the movie remains restrained. This isn’t failure so much as deliberate design. If judged by jump scares, it falls short; if measured by how well it brings the Warrens’ story full circle, it succeeds.

The absence of constant horror is both its weakness and its strength. It may disappoint thrill-seekers on a Friday night, but it allows the conclusion to resonate as a genuine farewell. Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga anchor the film with quiet power, portraying Ed and Lorraine not as fearless ghost-hunters but as weary souls who’ve carried too much darkness. Their chemistry gives weight even to the softer scenes, turning them into guardians of these characters rather than just performers.

The filmmaking mirrors this restraint. Long takes, deliberate framing, and practical set designs create a lived-in world rather than a haunted funhouse. The score mostly simmers in the background, occasionally rising but never overwhelming, helping sustain a reflective mood that fits a closing chapter.

By the final act, it’s clear The Conjuring: Last Rites isn’t designed to terrify, but to conclude. The last five minutes lean into nostalgia, reminding viewers of the decade-long journey that began with the first film. It may feel sentimental, but it also feels right.

Whether this works depends on expectations. If you demand nonstop scares, you’ll likely leave unsatisfied. But if you’ve been waiting for closure, you’ll find it here. The film cannot be both things at once, and it chooses its path with conviction.

Final Verdict
The Conjuring: Last Rites may not be the scariest or most inventive entry in the series, but it is the one that finally says goodbye. By placing characters above creatures, it offers an ending that feels less like a scream and more like a sigh. You may not walk away terrified, but you will walk away with something rarer in horror franchises—a sense of completion. Imperfect, yes, but undeniably final.