‘The Conjuring’: Demons or Real Family Tragedy?
When The Conjuring exploded onto screens in 2013, nobody expected the Warren-verse to mushroom into the most lucrative horror franchise ever.
Nine films later — including spin-offs like The Nun and Annabelle — the supernatural universe keeps drawing crowds. But behind the jump scares and shadowy figures is a grayer, more human story: the real families whose trauma became fodder for blockbuster scares.
According to NPR, Director Michael Chaves, who’s helmed three entries in the series including the new The Conjuring: Last Rites, says he’s painfully aware of that line between entertainment and lived experience. While making Last Rites — which centers on the Smurl family’s claims of violent demonic activity in their home — Chaves says he worked closely with the grown Smurl daughters.
“It really left big scars on their family,” he’s said, noting how much the Warrens’ belief meant to them in a time of skepticism.
That belief is exactly what transformed Ed and Lorraine Warren from local investigators into national figures. The couple turned alleged hauntings into lectures, books and media appearances, and their name now powers a multi-billion-dollar film franchise. But critics argue that the Warrens’ mix of showmanship and spiritual certainty sometimes obscured ugly, human realities.
“People involved in these cases often had long histories of trauma — mental health struggles, substance use, abuse,” says author and cultural critic Grady Hendrix. He and other skeptics worry that quick attributions to demonic forces can short-circuit proper care. In several famous cases — including the one that inspired The Devil Made Me Do It — symptoms that today might prompt psychiatric evaluation were instead framed as possession, with life-altering consequences.
Those consequences aren’t hypothetical. In the Cheyenne Johnson case, which the films dramatize, a real murder and a high-profile trial followed accusations of possession — and the media circus that surrounded it left lasting wounds for victims’ families.
The family later sued over coverage, alleging exploitation; the suits were dismissed, but the questions about ethics remain.
Defenders of the Warrens insist there was no malice — that they genuinely believed they were helping people. The film franchise leans into that perspective, making the Warrens heroic exorcists who bring relief to desperate families. But even filmmakers admit the moral complexity. Chaves has said he struggled with telling the story of a murderer as if supernatural forces fully explained the violence.
At its best, the Conjuring series is expertly made horror; at its worst, it flattens messy human suffering into jump-scare beats. For audiences, the takeaway is complicated: you can enjoy a terrifying ride — but remember the people whose lives inspired the scares. Their tragedies are not special effects.
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