Most horror franchises don’t end well.

They repeat themselves into parody or collapse under the weight of spinoffs. Since the series’ 2013 premier, The Conjuring staked out a space that was gothic, grounded and anchored by two star performances that made the paranormal feel tactile. The Conjuring 2 doubled down, and the series reached the rarefied air of back-to-back classics. The third entry slipped a little, a product of its COVID-era release, but it still carried weight.

That sets the stage for The Conjuring: Last Rites. It is not the greatest of the four. But it is a perfectly suitable sendoff — a film that closes the Warrens’ story with dignity, maintains consistency of tone and resists the temptation to undo what came before.

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A franchise built on restraint

These films work because Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga commit fully to Ed and Lorraine Warren — characters who, in lesser hands, might have been caricatures of piety and intuition.

Wilson plays Ed as the bulwark: sturdy, plainspoken, reliable. Farmiga makes Lorraine the peculiar surgeon: precise, mysterious, a veiled well of empathy. Watching her glide through a room in “work-mode” — scanning, listening, cutting into the supernatural with poise — is one of modern horror’s great pleasures. Together, they elevate the material to something that can stand beside the classics.

Last Rites understands that its job is not reinvention. It’s closure.

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The sluggish open

The first act is slow to find its footing. It opens with a harrowing hospital delivery — young Ed and Lorraine bringing Judy into the world, demons circling the scene. A frightening sequence, though one burdened by heavy backstory.

It’s here the film reminds us of the supreme value of going in blind. Not knowing what’s at stake — even something as basic as whether that baby will survive — magnifies the tension. Spoilers or foreknowledge only blunt what works best in these films: uncertainty.

Then come the Smurls, introduced in long, single-take chaos: family members wheeling through tight spaces, bickering and expositing while the camera refuses to cut. These aren’t glamorous parts, but the “unknownsemble” rises to it. Pulling off such elaborate staging isn’t easy, and they sell the reality of a family under siege. The script even tips its hat to other entries in the so-called Conjuring Universe — Annabelle, The Nun — weaker films that distract more than enrich.

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Fractured reflection

Candyman. Oculus. Mirrors.

Yes, even Kiefer’s Mirrors belongs in this lineage. Last Rites joins that conversation with its own take on reflective terror.

As always, access is restricted by a retractable attic staircase. Early on, the audience witnesses the mirror’s safe disposal — convincingly gone, its threat seemingly over. Which makes its literal return all the more unsettling as the film edges toward its climax. The exploration of its orbit becomes the true draw: attic floorboards rippling beneath the fathers’ burden, the delayed consequences of disturbing its surface, its grip on Judy’s boyfriend that culminates in a deadly tug-of-war.

Not every beat works. A girl vomiting a torrent of blood after a shard teleports into her throat is silly horror writing, made worse by overzealous foley that pipes in cartoonish stomach noises. But elsewhere the mirror grounds the film — a tactile object the story bends around, lending shape and weight to its surreality. The ensemble thrives in these demanding sequences, holding rhythm through chaotic long takes without breaking character.

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The garbage disposal lurking

Midway thru, the film threatens to lose me. Too much backstory, too much padding, too much noise. And then Vera at the sink.

Soapy water fills an unstoppered basin. Looming behind is a menacing switch. She flips it. Whirrr. Tension mounts. Modern horror usually punishes its viewers here with a grotesque payoff. But not this time. She flips it back off, reaches in and retrieves…a locket. For a moment, intrigue replaces dread. Then the revelation lands with quick realism: Judy is in trouble.

This scene sat me back down. It’s a study in horror progression done right: set up a trope, invert it, twist it and resolve it without cheap cruelty. Crafted with restraint, intelligence and respect for the audience.

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Sound as sabotage

The volume is cranked just a touch too high, the jump scares amplified to the point of irritation. It’s a trend in modern horror mixing — sound treated like a carnival hammer, meant to jolt you in your seat rather than let dread seep under your skin.

The Conjuring series never needed this. Its scares come from atmosphere, pacing and the presence of its leads.

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Quartet anchor

What saves Last Rites are the performances. Wilson and Farmiga are as precise as ever, but the film also gives Judy (Mia Tomlinson) and her fiancé (Ben Hardy) room to shine.

Hardy is a particular surprise. His short bursts of backstory and his unquestioning trust in the Warrens make him instantly sympathetic. His dynamic with Wilson adds dimension, creating an arc of respect that pays off in the climax. Judy herself is no longer just a background child in peril — she becomes part of the Warrens’ legacy, a figure whose future matters.

The Smurls never escape their clunky introduction as characters, but the actors deserve credit. They hold their ground in elaborate blocking and difficult staging, making the household feel authentic.

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An inspired finish

The climax is not the series’ most inventive, but it is steady. The mirror’s literal return, the tug-of-war for Judy’s fiancé, Farmiga in full supernatural hunt mode — all of it lands with enough weight to feel like closure.

Crucially, the film avoids grotesque overkill. It doesn’t desecrate its own mythology. It doesn’t indulge in empty spectacle.

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The dreaded denouement

By the time the credits loom, the astute viewer braces for it — that final note of ambiguity. None of the earlier Conjuring films leaned into the cliché of “maybe it’s not over.” They closed their cases, restored order and sent the Warrens home. But this series has always thrived on bending horror convention, taking familiar narrative devices and twisting them into something new.

Naturally, a final chapter invites the suspicion that this time will be different.

And so Last Rites ends as the series always has: the Warrens together, the circle drawn. Whether it holds is another matter.

★★★★ ★★★★

Briefer takes at IMDb & Letterboxd.