There are four words in the title of the latest entry in the Conjuring universe, but only one sounds good. It’s the word “last.”
The Conjuring: Last Rites seems to finally nail the coffin shut on this part of the franchise, saying goodbye to a series that revels in timeless scary stuff — swing sets that mysteriously move, creaky floors, battery toys that suddenly turn on and doorknobs that rattle. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, guys.
Vera Farmiga and Patrick Wilson reunite to play renowned, real-life paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren, facing an “evil unlike anything they’ve ever encountered.” That evil? It lives in the Pennsylvania suburbs of 1986, of course.
Photo: AP
Last Rights — part of a universe that includes The Nun and Annabelle franchises — is a decent enough final cinematic prayer for this franchise, combining the personal story of the Warrens and their daughter, Judy, with a new paranormal possession that’s created a freaked-out family. It culminates in hope, love and a wedding. But first, demons and projectile vomiting.
Returning screenwriter David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick — aided by The Nun II scribes Ian Goldberg and Richard Naing — have crafted, with returning director Michael Chaves, the franchise’s signature alchemy: saccharine family hugging and laughter combined with ankle-level blood pools.
The evil thing this time is a full-length wooden-framed mirror with carvings of three children. It’s given as a gift to a girl’s confirmation — a mirror, really? — and soon makes family members levitate, yanks telephone cords (the movie’s younger viewers might laugh at a time when phones had cords) and turns dolls creepy.
Photo: AP
The time period gives the filmmakers great songs — Howard Jones’ Things Can Only Get Better, David Bowie’s Let’s Dance and The Cult’s She Sells Sanctuary — as well as a mention or two of the film Ghostbusters, used to mock the Warrens. There are also big shoulder pads, clip-on ties and huge, round glasses.
We start in 1964, where the young newlywed Warrens are investigating their first case — that possessed darn mirror again — but excuse themselves when a pregnant Lorraine Warren’s water breaks and Judy is born.
Fast-forward to the 1980s and the couple have sworn off investigating any more paranormal activities on account of Ed’s iffy heart. Plus, Judy, (a nifty Mia Tomlinson) who seems to have inherited her parents’ ability to sense evil, has a boyfriend. “Our family is not like other families,” dad warns her potential suitor.
This gives the moviemakers a chance to make a wedding dress shopping experience a truly frightening experience — if it wasn’t already — and a garbage disposal explodes in blood. The Conjuring has always taken pedestrian things and tried to turn them creepy but maybe jumped the shark last time with a possessed water bed.
The death of a recurring character connects the Warrens and the story of the poor Pennsylvania family with their horrible mirror. “It found us,” says dad, ominously.
There’s too much reliance on thunderstorms, quick cuts of grinning monsters, a slow buildup to the climactic final battle that drags in parts — how many delicate moving music boxes can we enjoy watching? — and Ed Warren should probably by now have committed to memory the correct Catholic prayer passages to banish a demon (Ed, man, get off book).
But you’d be a demon to not give Ed and Lorraine Warren their victory lap. At a time in horror when movies combine race commentary, explore politics or go full-out stabby-stabby, they were the ones who celebrated creaking floorboards and ticking grandfather clocks. It’s time to go but it’s also time to cheer this husband-and-wife team with the creepiest basement in the world.
Under pressure, President William Lai (賴清德) has enacted his first cabinet reshuffle. Whether it will be enough to staunch the bleeding remains to be seen. Cabinet members in the Executive Yuan almost always end up as sacrificial lambs, especially those appointed early in a president’s term. When presidents are under pressure, the cabinet is reshuffled. This is not unique to any party or president; this is the custom. This is the case in many democracies, especially parliamentary ones. In Taiwan, constitutionally the president presides over the heads of the five branches of government, each of which is confusingly translated as “president”
Sept. 1 to Sept. 7 In 1899, Kozaburo Hirai became the first documented Japanese to wed a Taiwanese under colonial rule. The soldier was partly motivated by the government’s policy of assimilating the Taiwanese population through intermarriage. While his friends and family disapproved and even mocked him, the marriage endured. By 1930, when his story appeared in Tales of Virtuous Deeds in Taiwan, Hirai had settled in his wife’s rural Changhua hometown, farming the land and integrating into local society. Similarly, Aiko Fujii, who married into the prominent Wufeng Lin Family (霧峰林家) in 1927, quickly learned Hoklo (commonly known as Taiwanese) and
The low voter turnout for the referendum on Aug. 23 shows that many Taiwanese are apathetic about nuclear energy, but there are long-term energy stakes involved that the public needs to grasp Taiwan faces an energy trilemma: soaring AI-driven demand, pressure to cut carbon and reliance on fragile fuel imports. But the nuclear referendum on Aug. 23 showed how little this registered with voters, many of whom neither see the long game nor grasp the stakes. Volunteer referendum worker Vivian Chen (陳薇安) put it bluntly: “I’ve seen many people asking what they’re voting for when they arrive to vote. They cast their vote without even doing any research.” Imagine Taiwanese voters invited to a poker table. The bet looked simple — yes or no — yet most never showed. More than two-thirds of those
In the run-up to the referendum on re-opening Pingtung County’s Ma-anshan Nuclear Power Plant last month, the media inundated us with explainers. A favorite factoid of the international media, endlessly recycled, was that Taiwan has no energy reserves for a blockade, thus necessitating re-opening the nuclear plants. As presented by the Chinese-language CommonWealth Magazine, it runs: “According to the US Department of Commerce International Trade Administration, 97.73 percent of Taiwan’s energy is imported, and estimates are that Taiwan has only 11 days of reserves available in the event of a blockade.” This factoid is not an outright lie — that