[5.8/10] *The Conjuring* is a series of good scares in search of a good movie. If you’re after empty calories that will make the hair on the back of your neck stand up, then you’re in for a good time, but if you’re interested in things like character, or dialogue, or anything beyond a good spook, you’ll mostly be hunting for scraps.

They’re good scares though! They almost hold the movie up. Whether it’s characters being pulled across the screen as though moved by some invisible force, or blurry figures in the distance moving unnervingly but never able to be fully discerned, or the images of pale corpses hanging over one’s shoulder as perceived from beyond the grave, the film knows how to deliver a good frightening sequence.

The problem is there’s next to no one worth caring about in any of those sequences. At best, all of the characters are archetypes, with only the faintest hint of shading to give them a little personality. The main characters, such as they are, are Ed and Lorraine Warren, a pair of “demonologists” who take various “cases” of hauntings and try to solve them. There’s not much to them beyond a generic “the last time we tried this, you ended up bad shape” emotional subplot that’s handled as clumsily and obviously as a ghost knocking around in the basement.

Then there’s the Perron family, a mom, dad, and five daughters who recently moved into a haunted house when things start going creepily wrong. Roger Perron is a standard father character, roaming around as flat as can be, and Carolyn Perron is just as generic of a mom, with no discernible characteristics beyond the fact that she loves her children (which is, apparently, something so novel that the film takes great pains to tell the audience about it in no uncertain terms, because we couldn’t understand the concept of a parent loving their child without the movie holding our hand throughout).

Those children she love so much are five indistinguishable, undifferentiated daughters. The oldest one is generically sullen and sarcastic, but otherwise they’re just props for *The Conjuring* to place in various scary situations and have them scream or gasp or call out in terror. They’re flanked by a barely there cop, an assistant, and the Warrens’ own daughter, all of whom are little more than sentient window dressing.

The “based on a true story” tale sees mysterious things happening around the Perrons’ house, which naturally leads them to consult with the Warrens. From there, there’s the standard “there’s an evil entity here” business, with the ghosthunting crew digging up the convoluted history of the place where, shock of shocks, some grisly events happened in the past.

The instigating event (spoiler warning, boys and girls) is a murdered Salem witch who possesses women to have them kill their children. The intention of this motif is clear and solid, with this witch (subtly named “Bathsheba”) finding particular resonance with the clairvoyant Lorraine, who sees visions of her daughter’s death, and Carolyn who is, inevitably, the one who actually gets possessed by the evil spirit. The rub is that *The Conjuring* hammers this point home again and again, to where the possession of Carolyn is as predictable as its solution.

But if you’re not walking into the theater because you care about story or character, *The Conjuring* can be a lot of fun. The cinematography is an integral part of the film, using unique perspective shots to give the appearance of something just beyond the frame, doing *Vertigo*-style zooms, and turning things upside down or using tracking shots to convey movement and uneasy situations. The cameraman is arguably the most interesting and active character in the film, feeling like a real presence that gives the movie what grace it can muster.

The other side of the coin is that the movie is just too much. It doesn’t just feature a few interesting instances of hauntings. It gives you every haunting cliché you’ve ever seen. There’s dead dogs. There’s dead birds. There’s gnarled old ladies. There’s creepy little kids. There’s people floating. There’s people sleepwalking. There’s pictures falling off walls. There’s mysterious cellars. There’s crazy laughs. There’s creepy dolls. There’s snarling and cackling and garble-voiced threats. If you’ve seen a haunted house movie before, chances are whatever dramatic scare you witnessed has been stapled into *The Conjuring* somehow.

The same goes for that engrossing cinematography. While the occasional long take or flipped perspective can add juice to an otherwise stock scenario and setting, the omnipresent use of all that showiness can make a scene feel too busy rather than the desired level of chaotic, like director of photography John R. Leonetti is throwing everything on the wall and seeing what sticks. The same goes for Joseph Bishara’s score, which tells you exactly what you should be feeling and when you should be feeling it in a similarly over the top fashion.

It was also striking to me to discovery that *The Conjuring* was directed by James Wan, soon to join the D.C. Extended Universe film with his upcoming *Aquaman* feature, because all of that “more is more” visual styling and tin-eared dialogue made me think of one man, who’s also dabbled in the horror genre before jumping to superheroes -- Zack Snyder. It’s not just the presence of *Watchmen*’s Patrick Wilson here; everything from the alternating washed out and then high-contrast colors to all the usual sound and fury signifying nothing.

But again, it’s good sound and fury. On a pure pound-for-pound basis, *The Conjuring* knows how to make you sit up and take notice of all the ways it’s trying to creep you out, and that’s certainly worth something. It’s just a shame that all the creativity that goes into breathing these (admittedly stock) scenarios to life in terms of the effects and the visuals doesn’t translate to crafting any characters worth giving a damn about, or creating an arc that doesn’t rely on the standard beats and clichés. You’re bound to remember *The Conjuring*’s creepy moments when you’re falling asleep at night, but you’ll quickly forget the rest of the movie.