I love horror movies.
Something ingrained in me causes me to gravitate towards the genre. Don’t get the wrong idea — I’m not like some Norman Bates-esque psychopath serving up Billy Loomis circa 1996-level insanity.
I’m more of a Randy Meeks from “Scream” kind of guy. And, while I love and appreciate horror films, I am not blind to their faults or, in many cases, apologetic of their overall shittiness.
That being said, when I found out James Wan would be producing a spin-off/pre-quel to his masterpiece, “The Conjuring”, based off of the terrifyingly creepy, dirty-faced porcelain doll that still causes my teeth to chatter, I was all ears (and slightly shielded eyes).
Via: HorrorBoom
“Annabelle” follows a pregnant mother and her rarely present medical student of a husband, who, after being attacked by some cult-crazed intruders, starts to experience weird, inexplicable occurrences.
It starts with doors opening and closing themselves, appliances turning on and off and a few anxiety-ridden scenes involving a sewing machine, but it quickly escalates to more than subtle hauntings.
So I’m sitting in the theater clutching my pearls and that’s when it hit me: “Annabelle” is really nothing new.
And it didn’t need to be new. It didn’t need to jumpstart some groundbreaking revolution in the realm of horror cinema. It didn’t need to turn the genre on its head and shake the change from its pockets. It just needed to be good, and it was.
Jump scare after the jump scare, intense terror sequences, slow-panning shots of that creepy fucking doll sitting in that white rocking chair, lifelessly staring at the terrified audience. All brought this movie and Annabelle herself to life.
Via: Twitch Film
“Annabelle” manages to promote a level of anxiety throughout the duration of the film, similarly to the scene in “Final Destination 5″ where the girl is on the balance beam, her bare feet dancing around a nail while the audience gets more and more uncomfortable: shielding their eyes, gripping their chest, squeezing their partner’s hand, but she never steps on it. She, instead, latter flies off the asymmetric bars and bends over herself like a rolled up yoga mat.
Annabelle never twitches or turns to the camera or blinks; she never gets up and scurries across the room or looks into the camera and cackles like Chucky; she doesn’t do anything and that’s what makes it so fucking creepy.
You sit there the whole movie expecting her to move, to twitch, to blink, but it never happens and, instead of feeling let down, you’re thankful; thankful that you’ll be able to sleep tonight without worrying about that pig-tailed doll scurrying across your bedroom floor; thankful that you didn’t pay $40 to watch a “Child’s Play” remake.
The strength of “Annabelle” lies in the fact that it didn’t go there. It is creepy in its own right. It is a horror movie that doesn’t try to be something it isn’t. It is scary for the sake of being scary, which is exactly what I want out of a horror movie.
Via: Movie Hole
Featured photo courtesy of: WeLiveFilm
