Remember that evil doll from “The Conjuring”? It’s the kind
of hellish looking children’s toy that you think no one would ever possibly
give to a real child because just looking at that nasty smile would give it
nightmares. Obviously, the first thing you thought walking out of James Wan’s
film was, “that creepy doll needs its own movie,” right? Didn’t everyone think
that? It sure seems that way, because that’s exactly what we now have with the
prequel “Annabelle.” And if you think making a feature-length movie out of the
backstory of a sinister doll—from the director of “The Butterfly Effect 2” no
less—might be stretching the concept a bit thin, you are correct.
Honestly, if you stumbled across this in a video store—if
there’s still an open video store within a 50-mile radius of where you live—and
picked up this movie you’ve never heard of on a grainy, warped VHS tape, you
might have discovered a minor classic. “Annabelle” feels like a slapdash, early
1970s, grindhouse-y attempt to capitalize on the success of better movies, like
“Rosemary’s Baby” and “The Exorcist,” both of which are continually referenced
here in the most heavy-handed manner. The apartment building the two main
characters move into even looks just like John Cassavetes and Mia Farrow’s
place from the Roman Polanski classic.
The problem is that this is 2014, and “Annabelle” feels as
stale and stilted and bland as is if was 35 or 40 years old and had been
forgotten. It isn’t terrible or offensively bad, but it’s so generic and
paint-by-numbers that even as you watch it, you’re painfully aware of exactly
what’s going to happen. Mia, another nod to “Rosemary’s Baby,” played by
Annabelle Wallis (you can just imagine the producers high fiving each other
after they cast a star named Annabelle their movie called “Annabelle”), and
John (Ward Harris), are the most vanilla, idyllic couple ever rendered on film.
She’s pregnant, he’s about to finish med school and become a doctor, they’re in
love, and they live a peaceful, only-in-the-movies perfect life.
Mia also collects horrendously eerie dolls, and when John
gives her a gift, a doll that she’s been searching years for, you know things
aren’t going to end well. Just once I want someone in a horror movie to say, “Oh
great, you got me a hilariously creepy doll, no thanks,” and have that be the
end. But when a satanic, Manson Family-style cult breaks in, things take a turn
for the worse. In a move straight out of “Child’s Play,” the doll gets
possessed and the film runs through every last genre trope you can think of.
A mobile starts spinning on its own, record players and
sewing machines start working when no one is in the room, rocking chairs rock
themselves, ghostly figures walk past doorways behind the characters, and try
as they might, they just can’t get rid of this damn doll. Even after they move
and have the baby, Mia continues to be haunted by this ghost or demon or
whatever. They turn to their family priest (Tony Amendola) and their wise black
neighbor (Alfre Woodard), who even says, “I’m old, I know things.” At a point
it becomes comical, and you wait to see what lazy cliché they dust off next.
Demons on the ceiling? Check? Elevator doors that close too slow? Check. But
after it’s funny for a moment, it gets tired, drags the pace of the film down
to snail’s gait, and lumbers through the finish.
This oversimplification infects the entire movie. No one—not
the husband, not the priest, not the neighbor—ever, for one second, has any doubt
that evil forces haunt Mia and the baby. In one scene John suggests maybe
there’s some post-partum depression, or something similar going on, Mia says, “no,
it’s demons,” that’s all the discussion there is, and they start reading books
that conveniently have all the answers they’re looking for. Handy.
As a horror fan, it’s hard to knock any genre release that
actually makes it to movie theaters, especially R-rated horror (this most
certainly does not need to be rated R). There are so few
anymore that the immediate impulse is to champion this, the logic being that if
“Annabelle” is a success we’ll get more options to choose from. But why did it
have to be this movie? Even if they tried something different and failed in
spectacular fashion, that would be better than “Annabelle.” Everything is so
rote, you see every last jump scare coming—there’s one solid attempt, but it’s
appeared in damn near every trailer and TV spot, which ruins the impact—and
it’s all so easy and lazy that it’s like there’s nothing here.
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