Sinister (2012)

Blumhouse Productions – of Paranormal Activity notoriety – inadvertently prove that their ethos of low budget, high-concept filmmaking is as challenging to execute coherently as it sounds. Scott Derrickson’s hybrid found-footage haunted house chiller, Sinister, displays no clear train of narrative thought beneath its spook house gag exterior; instead, it attempts to manufacture some semblance of authenticity from an unusual amalgamation of human neuroses, ancient occultism and consumer videography. But it never quite makes you believe, despite Ethan Hawke’s considerable facial acting chops.

The story chronicles a once-prosperous true crime writer, Ellison (Ethan Hawke), probing for his next bestseller in his new family home that just so happens to be filled with super 8 films containing disturbing content. Just who left the reels and who captured the events becomes the focus of his research, with every pallid digit pointing phantasmatically at a Babylonian creeper who resembles the lead vocalist in a shock rock band.

Young Clare Foley and her personal ancient evil

If you’ve failed to sense Sinister’s originality from even a cursory glance at this slightly flippant synopsis, it’s probably because said “originality” is derivative of at least a half dozen films before its time that have explored either celluloid-based found footage or imagery as a medium for navigating parallel dimensions. Allegorically, the realms of Schumacher’s 8MM and some kind of Thomas Harris biographical crossover to do for film stock what The Ring did for VHS cassette.

An admirable ternary mode of plot progression that seamlessly moves from formulaic thriller; to gimmicky shocker before finally settling at its supernatural roost, is the Derrickson capstone. Beyond that, Sinister, from its overbearingly loud jump cues; to its punchy one-word title and grisly cover artwork, has a single objective – and that's to shallowly entertain the audience for 90 minutes, which it does.

Rating: 3.5/5

The Conjuring (2013)

A red carpet interview was conducted at the LA premier for Warner Bros' latest horror jaunt, The Conjuring, with the author whose alleged true account was translated to the big screen, Andrea Perron. In the interview, she claimed that the making of the film was plagued by “a presence” known as “Bathsheba's Curse”. Aficionados of the genre will have heard of similar occurrences happening during filming for The Exorcist; crew supposedly succumbing to mysterious deaths; cast suffering physiological breakdown and, indeed, there was the fire that ravaged the original lot.  Compared to those circumstances, Bathsheba's Curse seems little more than an explainable draught; in fact, that's probably what it was till Perron eloquently sensationalised it – now, it’s “a supernatural wind” that sent the film equipment “flying”. Ironically, such plagiaristic post-production gimmickry signifies the foundation for The Conjuring’s commercial success.

Past the spoilery trailers and priest-on-standby placards of the marketing team’s induced hysteria lurks an actual film, you know! Set in 1971 Rhode Island, Ed (Patrick Wilson) and Lorraine (Vera Farmiga) investigate alleged paranormal activity in the Perron family’s newly inhabited farmhouse. 

Lili Taylor in The Conjuring

As the situation steadily worsens, the assortment of ghoulies hone their appreciation of scare timing…true story! Or maybe that’s just director James Wan’s interpretation of events. Oddly – considering all the effort spent imposing the reference text’s legitimacy – The Conjuring spends most of its duration honouring the supernatural titles of bygone decades, nostalgically reproducing the clichés using inorganic CGI effects. Engaging characterisations notwithstanding, you just don’t know whether to believe this frightening tale that’s all too evocative of a product that circuited the Hollywood horror conveyor belt. 

Clearly, despite Andrea's revelation that the ghosts were pleased that she told their stories, the cinematic adaptation of the experience serves a less moralistic purpose; one in which those so-called pleased spirits encompass a combined 25 seconds of screen time for cheap chills, the film takes over $80million in its opening weekend and Andrea ‘The Shill’ Perron obviously pockets a huge royalty cut. 

Rating: 3/5