The Nun II: Bad Habits Die Hard

Or, a critical look at how simplistic narratives of faith and morality undermine The Nun's potential to delve into the nature of faith and its intrinsic relationship with the human experience.

Simply put, The Nun II had very small shoes to fill in terms of audience expectations. The first Nun movie, while not offensively terrible, was still a relatively mediocre entry in the Conjuring cinematic universe (or CCU for short). Although it provided decent entertainment, it could hardly be considered a competent horror movie, especially compared to other offerings within the genre released that year, including Possum, The House That Jack Built, and of course, Hereditary. Directed by Michael Chaves (The Curse of La Llorona, The Conjuring 3: The Devil Made Me Do It) and written by Akela Cooper (Hell Fest, Malignant), Ian B. Goldberg (The Autopsy of Jane Doe, Eli), and Richard Naing (The Autopsy of Jane Doe, Eli), The Nun II, in both tone, execution, and style, felt as though the screenwriters plugged the prompt “write a horror movie about a scary demon Nun in France” into chatGPT and then ran with it.

The Nun II opens four years after the events of the first film and can essentially be summed up in one sentence: a demonic nun with a major bone to pick with the Catholic Church decides to cause chaos in a convent located in the French countryside. Shenanigans ensue. In addition, the titular Nun (known as Valak) barely appears in the movie, and when she does, it is either to stare menacingly into the camera, bare her jacked-up teeth, or (attempt) to burn a major character alive.

The scariest thing about Valak is her appalling lack of dental hygiene.

The Nun II operates on the logic that simply having a scary antagonist will make the movie inherently scary, rather than actively working to earn each scare through building tension and developing relationships with the characters. The film was appallingly bad compared to other horror releases of 2023, specifically Talk to Me and Cobweb, as it was riddled with plot holes and character inconsistencies, and worst of all, wasn’t even particularly scary.

Furthermore, the post-credits scene in The Nun II featuring Ed and Lorraine Warren points to a greater problem within the CCU: its tendency to whitewash the problematic backstories of its central protagonists while heavily pushing a pro-Catholic agenda. While there is something to be said for how religion, specifically Catholicism, is used as a tool to instill fear in horror cinema —asking us exactly why we believe what we do, which has proven effective in modern and classic films — the Conjuring Universe weaponizes Catholic guilt as an excuse to promote a pro-Church narrative. This is especially apparent in The Conjuring 3: The Devil Made Me Do It and both Nun movies. Unlike The Exorcist, which established many of the tropes present in the modern possession film, the Conjuring Universe's weak point is its depiction of religion, pointing to a larger issue of whitewashing the complex history of its protagonists to serve a pro-Catholic agenda. This results in a final product that often feels more like Christian propaganda than an effective horror film.

The CCU tends to downplay the Warrens' unsavory backstories to promote its narrative, depicting Ed and Lorraine Warren (played by Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga) as moral paragons of Christian virtue who happen to be paranormal investigators, rather than the fraudsters they truly were — preying on vulnerable families, including children. Aja Romano’s Vox Media article “From Amityville to Annabelle, the Warrens on film are a lie” highlights that the infamous Amityville haunting was “greatly exaggerated” and notes that while the Warrens’ “exorcism skills are debatable, their self-promotion skills are unmatched.” In contrast to the franchise's portrayal of the Warrens as “sweet, demon-shooing soulmates,” skeptics assert that they are “a pair of conniving, reality-distorting, shamelessly grandiose self-promoters.” This perspective is echoed in the Netflix documentary The Devil on Trial (2023), which suggests the Warrens were “swindlers who preyed on vulnerable families for fame and fortune,” particularly exploiting the Glatzels, the family at the center of The Devil Made Me Do It, as cannon fodder for their book, which generated over $81,000 in book sales compared to the Glatzels’ paltry $4,500.

Moreover, the Warrens' noisome actions extended to grooming an underage girl in the early 1960s. According to Kim Masters and Ashley Cullins in The Hollywood Reporter article “War Over ‘The Conjuring’: The Disturbing Claims Behind a Billion-Dollar Franchise,” Ed Warren initiated a relationship with a 15-year-old girl named Judith Penney, with Lorraine’s knowledge. Now in her seventies, Penney claims she was Ed’s lover for four decades, asserting that he began an “amorous” relationship with her when he was in his mid-thirties. While CCU portray the Warrens as deeply devoted Christians, the reality is starkly different: Ed was a groomer and pedophile, and Lorraine allowed this abuse to continue—ultimately leading to coercing Penney into an unwanted abortion —painting an stark image incongruous with the characters portrayed by Farmiga and Wilson.

In contrast to the CCU, The Exorcist portrays the Catholic Church and its related traditions as frustratingly outdated and stagnant, serving as a prime example of how Catholicism is used as a means to evoke fear in possession films. Unlike The Nun II, The Exorcist is a faith-based horror film that portrays the Church as morally ambiguous rather than wholly virtuous. It implores viewers to examine the nature of faith itself, where the stakes extend beyond mere life and death to encompass the triumph of evil over good, as well as modernization over tradition. Matthew Walter’s essay “The Ultimate Horror Movie Is Really About Heaven and Hell” asserts that The Exorcist “depicted a world in which the modernizing element of the Catholic Church was a point of spiritual weakness,” compelling viewers to confront a more conventional understanding of religion in all its preternatural aspects, setting the stage for the film’s lasting significance within our cultural canon.

Furthermore, The Exorcist encourages an examination of our faith not only in God but also in the devil, connecting archaic traditions with the modern sensibilities of the 1970s. William Friedkin, the film’s director, stated in a 1973 interview that The Exorcist is “primarily about the mystery of faith.” It posits that “we live in a moral universe in which the stakes are not life and death” but rather “heaven and hell.” This concept is a common trope among modern possession films and can even be observed in the first Conjuring movie. When Carolyn Perron (Lilli Taylor) becomes possessed by a demonic entity, the stakes are framed not merely as life and death but as a crisis of faith; will her soul be saved, or will she be cursed with eternal damnation? A similar motif can be found in The Conjuring 2, which centers around a spiritual battle with Valak. The stakes in both The Exorcist and The Conjuring emphasize the triumph of good over evil, The Exorcist takes a more ambiguous, questioning approach, as compared to the CCU’s rigid, absolute depiction of the nature of faith.

However, whereas The Exorcist presents the Catholic Church and its associated traditions as being frustratingly archaic and slow-moving, the CCU argues that the Church is the paragon of moral virtue; a veritable light in the darkness of extreme spiritual upheaval. Jack Ross’s essay “How Christianity is represented in modern horror movies: A textual analysis of The Conjuring and The Conjuring 2,” asserts that “Christianity is used as a weapon not only to vanquish not just supernatural evils but that of the character’s physical and moral worlds.” This message is further compounded by The Conjuring 3: The Devil Made Me Do It, in which the antagonist of the movie, Isla (Eugenie Bondurant) is an occultist raised by a Catholic priest; The Warrens’ faith and love for each other exists as a weapon against her pagan sensibilities. When Ed Warren is briefly under Isla’s curse, Lorraine breaks the curse by reminding him of their love for each other, a love which, as, depicted by the previous Conjuring movies, is rooted in an all-abiding faith in God and the triumph of said faith over the forces of evil, or, as argued by The Conjuring 3, the faithless.

The Conjuring and The Nun’s overtly moralistic storylines ultimately serve as their downfall; whereas The Exorcist asks us why we believe in God and examines the very nature of faith itself, the CCU and The Nun II present a simplistic black-and-white view of religion, arguing that those who blindly believe will be rewarded while those who do not will eternally suffer. This argument is particularly evident in The Nun II, during a conversation between Sister Irene (Taissa Farmiga) and Sister Debra (Storm Reid) on a train to Tarascon. When Sister Debra confesses her disbelief in miracles, Sister Irene replies, “the most extraordinary parts of our faith are only real because we believe in them.” Although it may seem like a throwaway line, The Nun II fully embraces and develops this concept, illustrating how Valak is ultimately defeated through the power of prayer, which saves Sister Irene from being burned alive. The film argues that this victory is only possible because of Sister Irene’s blind faith in God, and in turn, she is rewarded for this faith by surviving her encounter with Valak.

The CCU continuously disappoints on multiple levels due to its adherence to an uncompromising perspective on faith and morality. While The Exorcist asks its audience to contend with the complexities of belief and the nuances of good and evil, The Nun II simplifies these themes to a mere doctrine of blind acceptance, suggesting that unwavering faith alone guarantees protection from evil. This reductionist approach undermines the horror genre's richness and its ability to explore the intricacies of faith, doubt, and the human condition. Ultimately, The Nun II’s insistence on portraying Catholicism as an unqualified beacon of virtue does not merely cheapen its narrative but also distances it from the deeper, more resonant questions that define truly effective horror films. The multiple inadequacies present within The Nun II and the surrounding cinematic universe serve as an admonition; horror can, and should, strive for complexity rather than rigidity, thus inviting viewers to reflect on the nature of their faith (or lack thereof) rather than accepting dogma unchallenged.