Director: Michael Chaves

Cast: Vera Farmiga, Patrick Wilson, Mia Tomlinson and Ben Hardy

Rating: ★★

Back in 2013, James Wan’s The Conjuring gave audiences a welcome jolt by dressing up retro haunted-house tricks in a slick modern package. The series quickly grew into an extended universe of cursed dolls, haunted nuns and demon-plagued families, but at the centre of it all were Ed and Lorraine Warren, played with unshakable conviction by Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga. After more than a decade, Last Rites is pitched as their grand send-off. Unfortunately, what should have been a chilling farewell feels more like a laboured sermon — one that runs long, creaks often and barely musters a handful of effective scares.

The film opens in the mid-’60s, as the Warrens juggle a demonic encounter with the birth of their daughter Judy (Mia Tomlinson). That cursed mirror from their past resurfaces years later, haunting the Smurls, a Pennsylvania family whose real-life ordeal once made headlines. The Warrens are called back into action in 1986, now older, out of step with the times and doubting their relevance. As the investigation unfolds, the haunting edges closer to home, pulling Judy and her fiancé (Ben Hardy) into the crossfire.

What begins as a case study in demonic interference devolves into a predictable face-off where the Warrens’ faith and marriage must, once again, conquer evil.

The good

There’s no denying Patrick and Vera’s commitment. Even when the dialogue dips into sermonising, the two carry themselves with a sincerity that has always been the franchise’s strongest asset. Their dynamic — his steadfast belief, her psychic visions — still lends a human warmth to otherwise flat material.

A few images land well: Judy lost in a hall of mirrors while trying on her wedding dress, or a cursed reflection that hints at infinite dread. For a moment or two, you glimpse the franchise’s old ability to blend emotion with unease.

The bad

But those moments are fleeting. For the bulk of its bloated runtime, Last Rites feels like a rehash of every haunted-house cliché in the book. Creepy dolls, shadowy staircases, distorted faces in mirrors — all deployed with the kind of rote precision that telegraphs the scare long before it arrives.

Director Michael Chaves, who already underwhelmed with The Devil Made Me Do It and The Nun II, again struggles to inject urgency. His set-pieces overstay their welcome, deflating instead of building tension. The Smurl family, supposedly central to the plot, fade into irrelevance, leaving the narrative skewed entirely towards the Warrens. That narrow focus turns the film into a sentimental family drama thinly disguised as horror.

The script also oversells its sense of finality. Marketed as a devastating chapter for the Warrens, the film delivers little more than reheated melodrama. Faith, prayer and love once again triumph without any real cost. Even the soundtrack choices feel stuck in another era, adding to the sense of a franchise playing the kind of boomer-horror for an audience that no longer is merely satisfied with just surprises.

The verdict

By the time the credits roll, The Conjuring: Last Rites has confirmed what many suspected — this franchise has run its course. What began as a sharp, atmospheric series has calcified into formula, with scares you can predict, characters you’ve already seen tested and resolutions that feel like foregone conclusions.

Patrick and Vera remain compelling, but even their presence can’t disguise the film’s creative fatigue. Instead of a spine-tingling farewell, Last Rites plays like a hollow ritual, performed out of obligation rather than inspiration.