In 2013, audiences everywhere were sharing one emotion … terror. The Conjuring scared life back into the horror genre with its vintage setting, strong sympathetic performances and genuine old-school scares. With virtually no strong language or sex (like most horror films have), The Conjuring was rated R merely because of its sheer and effective terror. In my opinion, this was one the most compelling horrors in recent memory. Sadly, that has all come to an end with its tacky prequel/spin-off, Annabelle.
Where The Conjuring stayed ahead of the game by making the audience wait in agony for its demons to be released, instead Annabelle borrows cheap and clichéd scares from other far-superior horror films. Yes, Annabelle did make a spooky appearance in The Conjuring but a couple of good jolts from her does not mean she is worthy enough to receive her own film. Set in 1967, loving husband John (Ward Horton) buys an eerie vintage doll for his pregnant wife Mia (Annabelle Wallis).
The family his happy, but one horrific night will change all of that. A satanic cult invades the beloved family’s home, attacks the couple and leaves a bloody mess. In the wake of the chaos one of the cultic members, Annabelle, sets off a malevolent spirit to Mia’s precious doll. Now, a demon is awakened inside that very doll. Wait, what? Yep, that’s right, a couple drops of blood from this bitch and bam! The doll wakes up. Annabelle then proceeds into cliché after cliché after cliché of other horror movie staples. In the end, where The Conjuring mystified, Annabelle stupefies.