With the release of The Conjuring: Last Rites – the final film of the Conjuring franchise – in September of this year, those chilling yellow words returned to the big screen: ‘Based on the true story.’ Ed and Lorraine Warren are certainly familiar names today, but I have recently realised that there are many with little to no knowledge of them. If you fall into this secondary bracket, then let me introduce you: the Warrens were demonologists who were widely acclaimed for pioneering paranormal investigations, founding the New England Society of Psychic Research (NESPR) in 1952, and investigating more than 10,000 paranormal cases. They visited the homes of people who believed they were experiencing paranormal activity, collecting evidence and finding a solution. They gained publicity over the years through involvement in well-known supernatural phenomena like the Amityville haunting and the Annabelle doll, and have been credited with helping countless families. However, some believe that the Warrens focused on appealing to a thrill-seeking public instead of acting out of genuine concern for the families involved. Is it possible that this is true, that the Warrens were really creating the problems they claimed to be curing? 

There is a clear contrast between the gravity of the message the Warrens conveyed – namely that the Devil and other spirits exist and affect us – and the way they conveyed it. In a video tour of the Warrens' Occult Museum (a room full of paranormal objects and spiritual conduits collected by the Warrens during their investigations), Ed explicitly states the danger of the room and the objects within it, even suggesting that simply touching something could have dire consequences. He recalls the story of a priest who mocked and threw the Annabelle doll and then got into a near-fatal car crash on his journey home. After this event, the doll was locked away in a glass cabinet, but to no avail: a young boy who taunted the doll through the glass did not survive the motorcycle ride home.  

Ed emphasizes the link between the events to stress the danger that these artefacts pose. Why, then, are they kept in a museum open to the public? He claims that the room is ‘one of the most haunted areas of the world’, and yet Halloween decorations and stories about the lights turning on and off of their own accord seem to contradict the seriousness of his message. Clearly geared towards eliciting a reaction, this video tour feels closer to the atmospheric make-believe stories told at Halloween parties or around campfires than evidence of a serious problem. 

This focus on atmosphere and scares carries through to the Warrens’ involvement with the Conjuring films themselves. Although Ed Warren had passed by this time, Lorraine Warren worked as a consultant for the first two films of the franchise. In an interview for Warner Bros., Lorraine states that ‘The Conjuring is very, very accurate’; but we must remember that it is a horror film ‘based on the true story’, not a documentary. The stories certainly get dramatised for shock value and jump scares, with some elements of the narrative inevitably cut, added, or altered: for example, Andrea Perron, one of the children from the case that The Conjuring was based on, stated in an interview that there was no exorcism in real life, despite its depiction in the film. Using these films to draw attention to their work is undeniably effective, but it is important to consider that there are different types of attention. When the subject of the paranormal is already at risk of not being taken seriously by the public, sensationalism and thrills are the last things they should want to be associated with.  

But why is sensationalism such a negative thing? The families the Warrens worked with were reported to have experienced terrifying occurrences, like the mysterious movement of objects, disturbing sounds, and sometimes even possession of family members. If this was the case, then surely this calls for solemnity and concern. The supposed possession of the young David Glatzel serves as a fine example of the dangers of feeding into exceptional situations without critically evaluating them. Although an assistant to the Warrens’ investigations insists that ‘Ed was really good at trying to rule out the logical, physical causes and explanations’, David’s brother Carl Glatzel gives a contradictory account in the documentary The Devil on Trial. He recalls how the Warrens visited the Glatzel home following a call by David’s mother, who was concerned by her son’s behaviour. The events were described to the Warrens, who diagnosed the boy with possession and prescribed an exorcism; sitting at the table with all the children present, they told the family to expect him to start cursing, spitting, and being violent. ‘A couple days later, David was doing just that’, Carl says, ‘word for word.’ He then tells the story of one evening on which David’s possession manifested itself in loud displays of yelling, swearing, and rolling around on the floor – his father, apparently having had enough, burst into the room and slapped the boy. Strangely enough, this put an end to the excitement. ‘Everything could have been done differently’, Carl says. It should certainly have been done with more diligence and scrutiny. 

Ed and Lorraine Warren acquired much fame and publicity in their time, but I can’t help questioning their morality. Just as they accused the demons they hunted of doing, the Warrens preyed on fearful and vulnerable people, making spectacles of the families they worked with and encouraging sensationalism around their investigations. They created something of a small-scale witch craze, feeding into emotional distress rather than using their authority to promote clarity. 

This is an important case today, in a time where all manner of ideas are fed to us through our screens. Critical consumption is more important now than ever, so we don’t get swept up into a sensationalist storm, without considering the gravity of the consequences until it is too late.