James Wan’s filmography did not begin with the most idealistic debut: Saw, to date, is recipient to the larger sample in the collective dismissal against the modest filmmaker. However, none of this should imply that Wan’s inauspicious debut is plainly schlock—a plot(?) surrounding a mysterious killer that entraps the morally-fractured on elaborate, sadistic death-sets—in fact, throughout, his ideological visions for the film are made clear. Saw, however, as many have perceived it (including history) is considered an advent of grotesque exploitation in the 21st century, what with the weak scripting and—despite of—a plethora of sequels and spin-offs that succeed it.
I feel the need to say that Saw is a significant part of Wan’s work in the sense that it is telling of his sincerity as a craftsman for horror. It begins a history of refinement for someone who has a decent understanding of the genre and the language it uses. Though somewhat flawed, Insidious finally reflects this upon Wan’s work, whose manipulative use of filmic space and sensible narrative choices has set his film apart from those of his contemporaries. Continuing with the striking and evocative real life-based horror film The Conjuring, Wan has finally established himself as a knowledgeable filmmaker who first services his audience the straightforward exchange of their admission—frisson, and thorough storyline.
Annabelle is not directed by James Wan, but is inspired from the same-name porcelain doll that appeared in The Conjuring. It is about two young expecting parents (Annabelle Wallis and Ward Horton) who get caught up in a horrific murder involving a satanic cult. The thing is pieced together to seem familiar and innocuous until the narrative takes the family to move to an apartment—an arc which might show enough promise but meets with the most contemptuous follow-through.
The Conjuring, James Wan’s best work so far, is electrifying and somewhat assured. To compare a film only drawing inspiration from another film’s framing villain might be moot and unwarranted, but it is important to note that Annabelle is also the creation of people who are responsible why The Conjuring came to be. And where Wan proved an able marionette for both ‘haunters’ and ‘hauntees’ in his film, paying due homages from Spielberg to Wise (of Poltergeist and The Haunting, respectively), John R. Leonetti’s obvious odes to Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby are made in vain: the increasingly successful husband; the mysterious friend intimate with knowledge about the occult; the ever-kinetic camerawork; the nostalgia of that green stroller; the familiar Polanski-like symbolism. It is no incident that the principal character’s name, the wife, is also Mia, is it?
This is a studious build-up of which I am appreciative, yet in making his film reminiscent to Rosemary’s Baby, Leonetti puts his film in a narrative crisis. This is largely due to the script by Gary Dauberman, who traced along the lines of Polanski’s 60’s classic, almost entirely copying the film. It is dreadfully uninspired, especially for it is an origin story, which should be open to a whole lot of opportunities.
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We arrive finally to a fruitless story about Demons and not one that truly traces back to Annabelle’s genesis; the story in addition rids the pig-tailed terror of mystery, devolving her into mere instrument rather than an individual of true evil. Those who have seen her in Wan’s film knows her pig-tails are the thing from nightmares; taking away her mystery makes Annabelle mere porcelain and fibre, which I would not have counted on, but is what is exactly done here. I find that for a film that is framed out of The Conjuring, Leonetti’s Annabelle is lacking the sheer sincerity distinctive of Wan’s horror.
ANNABELLE
John R. Leonetti / USA / 2014
Horror / 98 min. / R
