T he first Conjuring, released in 2013 , was a profitable hangover from the previous decade’s Omen, Amityville and Exorcist retreads, goosing 21st-century audiences with things-going-bump-in-the-night tricks copped from comparable 1970s theatrical and TV movies. Yet despite sequels that went big ( 2016’s The Conjuring 2 , converting the Enfield poltergeist saga into a 4DX-ready theme-park ride ) and then sideways ( 2021’s true crime-adjacent The Devil Made Me Do It ), the series’ underlying mechanics have proved stubbornly resistant to change. The current multifaceted horror renaissance makes this an apt moment for the franchise to exit stage right; facing these upstart punks, the generally sluggish Last Rites presents as something akin to dad-rock horror, doing with jump-scares

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