Horror movie franchises are a unique form of cinema — they combine the thrill, gore, and blockbuster appeal of standalone movies with the series aspect that allows viewers to follow characters and plots over time. Most often, the continuity of these movies is predicated on the “good guys” barely staying alive and the “bad guys” narrowly escaping death or jail. This recurring theme can be great, as it allows for consistency in characters and the creation of the franchise’s fan base, but especially in the horror movie category, it also exposes frustrating tropes within horror movie films.
Earlier this fall, I went to watch The Conjuring: Last Rites. This movie was the last installment of The Conjuring universe, and garnered $84 million during its North American debut. As a big fan of this universe, I watched it during opening weekend, excited and sad to see Ed and Lorraine Warren’s story was finally coming to a close.
The story centred around an antique mirror—one that was present at Ed and Lorraine’s first investigation—that is now haunting the Smurl family. In addition to helping the family exorcize a demon from their home, The Conjuring: Last Rites highlights the Warrens’ daughter, Judy Warren, now grown-up and grappling with the depth of her own clairvoyant abilities.
The movie undoubtedly met its criteria for a terrifying yet wholesome finale to The Conjuring anthology. However, while I sat watching Ed almost get killed by a demon for the millionth time, it occurred to me that there is a ridiculousness to the ever-expanding Horror Movie Multiverse. In standalone horror movies, you can root for the protagonist, be scared senseless of the killer or demon-like entity, and even perhaps roll your eyes at some of the characters’ reckless actions, but usually it all finishes nicely with the ‘evil’ being defeated and everyone having a version of happy ever after.
This one-and-done storyline cannot exist in franchises. To a degree, franchises continue successfully because their plot premises on the careless behaviour of its main characters that allows evil to remain present—really, Ed, you’re going to attempt another exorcism after you almost died performing one three movies ago?
In the case of the Conjuring, Ed and Lorraine repeatedly put themselves, and sometimes their daughter, in harm’s way when investigating demonic activity. While for them, helping individuals and families cursed with evil spirits is their divine responsibility, they seem not to learn from any of the mistakes they made in prior cases. In The Conjuring 2, the movie begins with Lorraine having a clear and disturbing vision of Ed’s imminent death. Yet despite this clear warning, they decide to take on a case without any resources from the Catholic Church, a case where the existence of demonic activity hasn’t even been proven. This display of courage is admirable, and potentially justifiable if Conjuring 2 wasn’t followed by many other stupid decisions.
In Anabelle Comes Home, Judy Warren, her babysitter Mary Ellen, and their friend break into Ed’s locked room of evil artifacts and awaken several of the spirits. After the three girls spend a night fighting for their lives, it is astonishing that the Warrens do not take the necessary measures to ensure future safety. The forbidden room of curses remains in their house, when in reality, the Catholic Church would likely be better equipped to contain the spirits safely. Notably, Annabelle Comes Home is not the first time Judy Warren has been put in danger. In the very first Conjuring, Judy is attacked by the spirit Bathsheba, the main antagonist haunting the Perron Family. Her parents rush home, concerned for her safety, but ultimately leave her behind to go and confront Bathsheba.
This frustrating trope isn’t unique to The Conjuring Universe. Franchises such as Scream and Halloween all highlight characters with similar impulsive tendencies. If you take a step back and look at the recurring patterns in each movie, it’s difficult not to judge not only the characters for their thoughts or lack thereof, but also yourself for finding these movies so appealing.
Now, let’s talk about the Scream franchise. The general premise of Scream surrounds a serial killer wearing the “Ghostface” costume, who terrorizes the young residents of the town of Woodsboro, California. The serial killer who becomes Ghostface changes every movie, but the main characters, Sydney Prescott and her frenemy Gale Weathers, remain central protagonists in all but the last two movies. Scream is a classic slasher film, and all six of its released movies follow roughly the same plot. Given that Sydney and Gale live through all periods of Ghostface terror, you would think that by at least movie number four, they, and the terrified residents of Woodsboro, would have figured a few things out. Sure, Sydney eventually isolates herself to stay safe from Ghostface, but that doesn’t last long—midway through Scream 3, she leaves her fortress and travels to Hollywood to the very location that Ghostface has already killed three people. Not just Sydney, every other teenager in Woodsboro behaves as if the past years of mass murder simply will not apply to them this time. Halloween for Woodsboro residents should be the one day a year where people are extra cautious; instead, they choose to walk alone at night, attend costume parties after being warned by the police to stay home, and tell their friend they’re going to the basement, saying, “I’ll be right back”. One of the characters in the original Scream, Randy Meeks, even created “rules” to survive horror films based on the killing patterns, but his friends don’t really heed his advice—eventually leading to many of their deaths.
The Halloween movies are but another example of impulsive, reckless behaviour. This franchise follows Michael Myers and his obsession with Laurie Strode. The movies were not released in chronological order, nor do they actually follow a particular order at all. Some jump back and forth in the fictional timeline, sometimes offering alternative story lines to previous movies. What I want to emphasize is the absurdity of Michael Myers’s inability to die and how the other characters refuse to prepare accordingly. This man is shot, set on fire, and injected with tranquillizers, but somehow, he always survives. To clarify, Michael Myers is no demon from The Conjuring with extraterrestrial powers; he’s simply an unstable and tortured human with unrealistic omnipotence. But Laurie, Dr. Loomis, and the other residents of Haddonfield, Illinois, don’t seem to acknowledge his immortality. Almost every single time he’s “killed,” no one takes precautions to ensure he’s fully dead, and little effort is made to dispose of his body in such a way that he can’t be resurrected. On Laurie’s part, although being aware of the acute danger that Myers poses, she consistently exemplifies the classic audience question, “Why don’t you just leave or call for help?” In the first movie, she goes upstairs after her friends are killed and searches through dark rooms and closets to find him. In subsequent movies, she stubbornly refuses to receive help from law enforcement, and instead is adamant to face Myers alone. In Halloween H20, Laurie locks her son and his girlfriend in a room to go hunt Myers down with an axe. I think if Laurie thought about it for a minute, she might realize that a man who can survive being burned alive can likely pick a door lock.
Once again, it’s important to emphasize that all these tropes and irrationalities would be acceptable in a standalone horror movie. It’s the repeated behaviours across upwards of five movies that make you question the sanity of some of the characters. Perhaps that’s the purpose of horror movie franchises; maybe writers and producers have concluded that audiences enjoy these careless mistakes for the entertainment they provide—I certainly do. All criticisms and eye rolls aside, I love horror movies. I can’t help but acknowledge the plot inconsistencies and unrealistic storylines with fondness. I live for franchises, so you can bet that I’ll be at the premiere of each new movie every single time.