Look, we all know the feeling. You’re sitting there in the dark, the floorboards creak, and suddenly you’re wondering if that’s just the house settling or if Valak is about to jump out of a painting. I’ve spent way too much time obsessing over these movies—probably more than is healthy—and honestly, the interconnected web James Wan built is genius. But let’s be real: it’s also a total mess if you try to watch them in order of release. It's like trying to solve a puzzle where the pieces are being handed to you upside down and covered in demon spit.
If you’re like me and you want to see how this evil actually started, we have to stop looking at the movies as standalone scares and start seeing them as one massive, tragic, and terrifying tapestry. We're talking about a multi-generational war where the stakes aren't just jump scares—they're literal souls.
Personal Rating for the Franchise: 8.5/10. (Some of the spin-offs are a bit "meh" and feel like they're just checking boxes, but when the mainline movies hit, they hit hard. Nothing beats the atmosphere of the first two Conjuring films.)
(Heads up: Spoilers ahead for everything except Last Rites. You’ve been warned! Seriously, don't read this if you haven't seen the movies yet, unless you like ruining the surprises.)
The Beginning: Where the Nightmares Were Born
Long before Ed and Lorraine were the power couple of paranormal investigation, the world was already a playground for some truly nasty stuff. The ancient history of this universe is what sets it apart; it feels like the evil has roots that go down to the center of the earth.
Valak and the St. Lucy Connection (304 AD)
I think we all collectively lost our minds when we realized Sister Irene and Lorraine Warren might be related. Back in 304 AD, St. Lucy (the patron saint of the blind) was murdered by pagans. They tried to burn her, it didn't work, so they gouged out her eyes before killing her. Her eyes became a holy relic, and her family escaped, carrying that "divine spark" through the generations.
This "holy blood" is basically the superhero DNA of this universe. It’s why Irene and Lorraine can see things we can't. It’s not just a gift; it’s a genetic target on their backs. Valak—the Defiler, the Marquis of Snakes—isn't just a random demon. It’s an ancient entity that specifically targets the holy because it wants that power for itself. When it takes the form of the Nun, it’s not just for a costume; it’s a psychological middle finger to the very faith that tries to contain it.
The O.G. Grudge: Bathsheba (1692 - 1863)
If you think your neighbors are bad, imagine living next to Bathsheba Sherman. In 1863, she lived on a farm in Harrisville, Rhode Island. She wasn't just "creepy"—she was a devout Satanist who sacrificed her own week-old baby to the devil. When she was caught, she climbed a tree by the dock, proclaimed her love for Lucifer, cursed anyone who would ever try to live on her land, and hung herself at exactly 3:07 AM.
That 3:07 timestamp is the "witching hour" we see throughout the films. Her curse didn't just haunt a house; it poisoned the land. It forced mothers to kill their children for over a century. It’s visceral, it’s mean, and it’s the kind of lore that makes you never want to buy a "fixer-upper" in New England without a priest and a background check.
The Mid-Century: When Things Got Weird (1940s-1950s)
This is the era where the modern nightmares really start to take physical shape. We move from legends to actual objects and vessels.
1943: The Doll We All Hate
We have to talk about Annabelle. In 1943, a toymaker named Samuel Mullins created a porcelain doll—which, honestly, looked creepy even before it was possessed. Who buys these for their kids?! After their daughter, Bee, was tragically killed in a car accident, the Mullins were so broken they’d talk to anything just to see her again.
A demon (Malthus) heard their prayers, put on a "little girl" mask, and asked for permission to move into the doll. This is a huge theme in the franchise: Evil needs an invitation. Once it got in, it wasn't a playmate; it was a parasite. Pro-tip: If a "spirit" ever asks to inhabit your property, your doll, or your body—swipe left. Immediately.
1952 - 1956: The Nun's Reign
This is where the timeline gets juicy and international. In The Nun, we’re taken to the Abbey of St. Carta in Romania. During WWII, bombings shook the abbey and cracked a seal that had been holding Valak back since the Dark Ages.
Sister Irene (our favorite badass novitiate) manages to "banish" Valak using a relic containing the actual blood of Christ. It’s a high-stakes, gothic horror finale. But then we get that gut-punch ending: Maurice (Frenchie), the guy who saved Irene, has an upside-down cross branded on his neck. He’s been tagged.
By The Nun II in 1956, Valak is using Maurice like a meat-puppet to travel across Europe, hunting for St. Lucy’s eyes to regain its full angelic power. Even though Irene saves the day again with a wine-turned-blood miracle (which was a total "wow" moment), the victory is hollow. Valak is a cockroach—it doesn't die. It just stays dormant inside poor Maurice, waiting for the Warrens to show up decades later.
The Golden Era: Enter the Warrens (1970s)
This is the "classic" era that started it all. The 70s were the height of paranormal interest, and Ed and Lorraine were right in the center of the storm.
1970 - 1971: The One-Two Punch
The timeline here is a bit of a headache. The first Conjuring says they took the Annabelle case in '68, but the prequels say it happened in 1970. Let's go with the canon 1970 date. We see the Warrens take on Annabelle first—identifying her not as a ghost, but as a "conduit." They lock her in the blessed glass case, which is basically the high-security prison of the occult.
Then comes the big one: The Perron case in 1971. This is where we see the full power of Bathsheba’s curse. Watching Carolyn Perron get possessed and Ed—an unauthorized layman—perform an exorcism out of pure, terrifying desperation? That’s peak horror cinema. It’s the moment that defines the Warrens. Their power doesn't just come from the Vatican's permission; it comes from their absolute, unshakable love for each other and the families they protect.
Around this time, they also try to help Maurice (Frenchie) from the Nun movies. Seeing that grainy black-and-white footage of his exorcism in the first movie, knowing now what he went through in Romania? It adds a layer of sadness that really hits home. Maurice was just a good guy who got caught in the crossfire.
1972: Judy’s Worst Night Ever
Annabelle Comes Home is basically "The Breakfast Club" but with demons. While the Warrens are away, their daughter Judy and her babysitters accidentally let Annabelle out. This movie is a blast because it introduces us to the "Artifact Room" ecosystem.
We see the Ferryman (who puts coins over eyes), the Hellhound, and the Black Shuck. It reminds us that the Warrens aren't just fighting one demon; they’re living in a warehouse of concentrated evil. It’s a bit more of a fun "creature feature," but it raises a scary point: the Warrens' house is arguably the most dangerous zip code on the planet.
The Final Showdowns (1977 - 1981)
As we move into the late 70s and 80s, the threats become more personal and the "rules" start to change.
1977: The Enfield Poltergeist
The Conjuring 2 is my personal favorite. The atmosphere in that London council house is suffocating. Between the "Crooked Man" (who deserves his own movie, let's be honest) and the spirit of Bill Wilkins, it’s a non-stop barrage.
But the real meat of the story is Valak returning to torment Lorraine. Valak knows her name, her fears, and her premonitions of Ed’s death. When Lorraine finally realizes that knowing a demon's name gives you power over it, and she shouts V-A-L-A-K to banish it back to the pit? I wanted to stand up and cheer. It’s the ultimate payoff for two movies' worth of buildup.
1981: The Occultist and the Courtroom
Finally, we have The Devil Made Me Do It. This one felt like a major shift—less about creaky doors and more of a detective thriller. We follow the real-life case of Arne Johnson, the first person in U.S. history to claim "demonic possession" as a legal defense.
We move away from ancient demons like Valak and into a battle against a human witch named Isla (the Occultist). This adds a whole new dimension: humans can be just as scary as demons when they have a motive. The ritual required three souls—a murder, a suicide, and a victim. Seeing Ed struggle with his health while trying to save Arne made the stakes feel incredibly high. It proved that even as they get older, the Warrens' greatest weapon is still their bond.
Why We Keep Coming Back
When you look at it all laid out, the Conjuring Universe isn't just a collection of jump scares designed to make you spill your popcorn. It’s a massive, sprawling epic about the struggle between light and dark. It’s about a family (the Warrens) and a bloodline (St. Lucy) standing in the gap, protecting regular people from things that shouldn't exist.
It’s scary, yeah. The imagery of the Nun or the cracked face of Annabelle will stay with you. But it’s also strangely hopeful. It tells us that even in a world where a "Marquis of Snakes" is waiting in the shadows, there are people with flashlights, faith, and enough love to bridge the gap. It makes the unknown feel a little more understood, even if it doesn't make it any less terrifying.
What about you guys? Are you Team Annabelle (the classic conduit) or Team Valak (the ultimate defiler)? Personally, the Nun still makes me want to sleep with a crucifix and the lights on. Let’s talk about it in the comments—what’s the one scene that still haunts your dreams?
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