The ninth Conjuring movie and the end of the series — after The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It — takes another real-life event, the haunting of the Smurl family of West Pittston, PA, and brings it into the universe of these films.

The Smurls believed that a demon was bothering their home, causing loud sounds, foul smells, throwing their dog into a wall (this happens in the movie, and, as always, when a horror movie attacks a dog, it’s cheap heat), and physically and sexually attacking nearly everyone. By 1986, Ed and Lorraine Warren came a calling, as was their wont, finding a dark mass in the home.

According to Wikipedia, Professor Paul Kurtz of State University of New York at Buffalo and then-chairman of the Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal, when consulted, claimed that the Warrens “weren’t objective, independent, or impartial investigators and characterized the Smurls’ claims as a hoax, a charade, a ghost story. Kurtz said that the family’s claims were possibly due to delusions, hallucinations or brain impairment, and advised that they submit themselves to psychiatric and psychological examinations.”

Later, it was reported that Jack had surgery to remove water from his brain in 1983 due to a case of meningitis in his youth.

Along with the Warrens and newspaper writer Robert Curran, they wrote a book titled The Haunted, which was adapted into the 1991 TV movie of the same name.

But hey, let’s talk about this movie.

Somehow, this works the Smurl story into a never-told Ed and Lorraine (Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga) piece of lore. In 1964, an evil mirror almost killed them and caused the stillbirth of their daughter Judy, who came back to life, which was a miracle. Fast forward and Judy (Mia Tomlinson) is getting ready to get married to Tony Spera (Ben Hardy), Ed has heart issues and Lorraine doesn’t want them to do their job any longer.

It takes the death of Father Gordon (Steve Soulter) and their daughter going to the home of the Smurls — Jack (Elliot Cowan), Janet (Rebecca Calder), Heather (Kíla Lord Cassidy), Shannon (Molly Cartwright), Dawn (Beau Gadsdon), Carin (Tilly Walker), grandma (Kate Fahy) and grandpa (Peter Wight) — to bring them into the story. That said, the demon that has come into the house via a haunted mirror (is this Mirror, Mirror 5?) and has made teenage girls throw up blood really wants Judy.

Also: This triggered me because I have moved many large and heavy objects like that mirror and nearly dropped it onto people’s feet. It made my back hurt watching this.

Director Michael Chaves has been in charge of this series since The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It, as he also directed The Nun II. The first two movies in this series are exceptionally well-made because James Wan knew what he was doing. The art direction was great and new characters like Annabelle — who appears in this for no apparent reason, multiple times, other than for fan service — could have been spun off. Here we are with a creaky, way too long film that seemingly never knows when to end. I mean, at 2 hours and 15 minutes, it takes forever to get to the haunting parts, and those just end up being expected. It’s a slow decline to what started off so string.

Speaking of fan service, at the wedding of Judy and Tony, you can see Carolyn and Cindy Perron (Lili Taylor and Mackenzie Foy) from The Conjuring, Peggy and Janet Hodgson (Frances O’Connor) from The Conjuring 2 and David Glatzel (Julian Hilliard) from The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It. James Wan is also there; earlier, you can see the honest Judy and Tony at Ed’s birthday party.

A Judy and Tony spinoff feels like it’s definite. Maybe real life will kill more people so we get new stories, because comedian Matt Rife and YouTube personality Elton Castee bought the Warren estate and will be the legal guardians of all the artifacts until at least 2030. Rife claims that people will be able to spend the night in their museum. This came quickly after a tour with Annabelle led to the death of its handler, Dan Rivera. Maybe we shouldn’t mess with demons. Did we learn nothing from these movies?

This doesn’t mention the negative side of the Warrens — like Judith Penney, who lived in the house for years as Ed’s lover — other than to say that the Warrens were controversial.

As a professional wrestler, I was taught to always have my gear with me at all times, because you never know when you may need to wrestle. When the Warrens arrive at the Smurl house, and they’re not even supposed to be there, Ed goes into the trunk and he has his bag packed, just in case. What a worker. Every wrestler and conman (the same thing) can learn that from this movie.

Sometimes, the familiar is a warm blanket feeling. But here, it feels like old sweatpants covered with stains. They feel OK, but you feel like a moron wearing them. I went into this expecting nothing and as a famous mad scientist once said, I received it in abundance.

According to the filmmakers, “Legendary 1970s Mexican horror film auteur Juan F. Moctezuma II reportedly influenced the work of mega-directors Guillermo del Toro, Robert Rodriguez, Sam Raimi and more. But the last film Moctezuma made and his first in Hollywood, produced by Roger Corman, 1000 Paths of Death, was surrounded in mystery because it was shot in complete secrecy. And then he disappeared with the footage. Did his nemesis, the famous luchador Scorpion, sabotage his work yet again? Discover the truth in this fun film that delves into every level of the Mexican exploitation industry as it unfolds its obsessive tale.”

Obviously, Juan F. Moctezuma II doesn’t exist, even if someone went and made an IMDB page, adding credits for his films Una mujer sin precio 1961, Las fieras 1969, Demonoid 1971 and 1000 Paths of Death, films that he shares directing credits with the director of this film, Alaric S. Rocha. I appreciate this ruse, as they added him as a key grip on The Black Gestapo and Scream Bloody Murder, as well as an assistant art director credit for Sisters of Death.

There’s also a Fandom page, which goes into the story beats of the life of the director, such as his found footage — well, more to the point taking footage from other movies — film Tiempo de morir, which reads a lot like the plot of Cinema Paradiso, as well as working on a Cantinflas movie, losing the love of his life to luchador El Escorpión, working with Alejandro Jodorowsky on Fando y Lis, trying to win Lisa back on the set of Demonoid — not that Mexican Demonoid — and how his script for The Legend of Hell House (the movie claims Horror Express) was stolen by the real filmmakers. And hey — a Geocities-looking fansite, too!

It’s a cute idea, to be honest, in how it takes the world of Mexican cinema and American exploitation film through the years and weaves in this Zelig-like director, except that for all it gets right, there’s plenty that seems off. The movies that we’re shown pieces of appear to be modern-looking low-budget streaming cinema efforts, which ruins the illusion that the movie works so hard to craft that this is an actual documentary. And for all it gets right, claiming that Lloyd Kaufman, Yoram Globus or Roger Corman wanted to make Moctezuma’s last film, 1000 Paths of Death in 1977 rings hollow. Kaufman hadn’t even started to produce that much, Globus — with his cousin Menahem Golan — was still making films for AVCO-Embassy, and the two wouldn’t purchase Cannon until 197,8, and this movie claims that Corman was American-International Pictures when, in truth, he left AIP with his brother Gene to form New World Pictures in 1970. And as for AIP ripping off The Legend of Hell House, that was made by James H. Nicholson working out of 20th Century Fox as Academy Pictures Corporation. By 1977, AIP wasn’t even making the kind of movies that a Mexican horror director would come to the U.S. to make. Instead, they were putting out bigger budget films like C.H.O.M.P.S., Meteor, The Amityville Horror and Cooley High. As for Mexican horror cinema, movies as diverse as Tintorera, The Bees, The Bermuda Triangle, Mary Mary Bloody Mary, The Mansion of Madness (under the name Dr. Tarr’s Horror Dungeon) and Cyclone all played American grindhouses and drive-ins (and some multiplexes). Strange Mexican cinema could get played here.

I hate taking a movie to task like this — as well as showing off what a huge nerd I am — but I am the audience for this. If I can see through these moments, it makes me reconsider how much I like it. And that’s before the film explains to us that when El Escorpión and Moctezuma had their mascara contra mascara in Arena Mexico — in a year where Fishman, Mil Mascaras, Alfonso Dantes, Perro Aguayo, and El Faraón were the headliners — Moctezuma refused to shake hands… and then they show them shaking hands.

Also, while I’m being a geek, they mention selling a film to K. Gordon Murray by including full frontal nudity. That wouldn’t have gotten played on mainstream screens in the mid-60s, and other than Shanty Tramp, Murray was known as the King of the Kiddee Matinee. As for the Mexican films he did buy, he’d chop them up into one film and ensure they were sold to creature feature TV horror hosts. Full frontal would not have worked for him.

Getting a movie made is a miracle, much less one that has so many moving pieces and has to look and feel authentic. And many will look past that at this film, which gets Brian Yuzna, Isaac Ezban, Arturo Ripstein, Álvaro Rodríguez, John Penney, Paul London and others to speak at length about a filmmaker and where he fits in. It’s also a film that can’t decide if it’s subject was a maverick filmmaker who would go in debt to the cartels and destroy politicians all in the name of love, yet appear to be a slovenly rudo in the wrestling match at the end, almost a comedic figure (who would have instantly been DQ’d in the first fall for that low blow and why is a mask vs. mask match just one fall?) and not the heroic ideal we’ve been told that he was?

The ideas behind this are laudable, as is much of the execution. I just wish that it had gone all the way, because good is the enemy of great. Maybe I’m just upset that this isn’t about Juan Lopez Moctezuma, who made The Mansion of Madness, Alucarda and Mary Mary Bloody Mary. He also worked with Jodorowsky on Fando y Lis and El Topo, just like the director in this.