The Conjuring extended universe is one of the – if not the most – preeminent examples of a modern horror franchise done correctly. Expansive, with spin-offs shooting off into this direction or that, and an absolute box office powerhouse (with almost two billion dollars in worldwide gross), The Conjuring’s terrifying rein is vast. And yet with three separate offshoots, including a full-fledged Annabelle trilogy, and more on the way, the haunting force of the series that began in 2013 comes sputtering to a decidedly indifferent halt with The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It.

There are a few notable things missing from this third installment of the central franchise. Most importantly is James Wan, the horror auteur who helmed the first two films in the series before moving on to direct Aquaman and its upcoming sequel. From his classic gothic aesthetics to his signature patience in building tension to discomforting heights, Wan’s delivery of horror is stately and lingering; operatically staged and want to seep into the marrow. Terror is his tool and he exercises it with precision.

With Michael Chaves (The Curse of La Llorna) stepping into the directorial chair, a Wan-shaped hole translates to a notable downtick in terror. For what is does get right, this third outing with the Warrens is notable lacking in scares and subtlety. Where The Conjuring and its sequel incites chills to race up and down your spine, drawing your focus to the negative space and asking you to fill it with your own nightmares, The Devil Made Me Do It forcibly tries to shake you but can’t summon the kind of bone-rattling scares the series is known for. Whatever that magic ingredient that differentiates a truly terrifying horror movie from one that merely postures at scares, Chaves’ film lacks the touch.

In some ways though, this third Conjuring needed to change things up. One can only get so much mileage from doing the same thing over and over ad nauseam and though The Conjuring 2 pretty much nails what many viewers ask for in a horror sequel (more of the same but bigger and more of it), the fruit of that particular formula had been sufficiently juiced. With The Devil Made Me Do It, the reinvention is hardly top-down but there is a noticeable shift in format and in tone with events playing out in non-linear fashion and the script from David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick (Aquaman, The Conjuring 2) attempting to find a bit more humor in the proceedings, gallows though it may be.

Things start, as they usually do, with an exorcism. Ed and Lorraine Warren (Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga) recite bible verses to liberate the soul of young David Glatzel (Julian Hilliard). In the midst of this violent exorcism, Arne (Ruairi O’Connor) shouts something to the effect of “Take me instead”, volunteering his soul to his would-be possessor in what is unequivocally a terrible move. Shortly after, in a haze of possessed confusion, he murders his drunken boss in cold blood. As Arne’s crime and plea of non-guilty by virtue of “demonic possession” becomes a media sensation, The Devil Made Me Do It attempts to do something new, blending conventional horror thrills with the likes of a courtroom drama and supernatural criminal procedural to mixed effect.

As Ed and Lorraine do all within their power to prove the innocence of Arne, they stumble upon a new kind of threat: sinister dark magic at the hands of their first human adversary. But set against a contrived and jumpy plot, the events of The Devil Made Me Do It tend to feel hokey and silly in a way that the other films never have. It’s rarely outright boring but Chaves’ take on his particular kind of scares feels toned-down and gimmicky while left this reviewer feeling uninvolved, not possessed by fear. Despite some eerie moments and a few disturbingly creaky instances of body horror to drive things forward and make audiences squirm, there’s notable pacing problems accompanied by a general failure to sustain dread that plagues the effectiveness of the film even with Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga offering committed, more personal turns.

They are the anchor to this story and this franchise, The Devil Made Me Do It focusing on the ties that bind them and the underlying love that cements their mission to exorcize. But taken as yet another new element to this overcomplicated and underwhelming trilogy capper, the reframing of the series as a demonic love story simply feels like another thing thrown at the wall that falls to stick.

CONCLUSION: ‘The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It’ is an underwhelming sequel that pales in comparison to its impressively haunting predecessors. It has its moments and tries out some new tricks but feels like a downgrade on too many fronts to ignore.