Horror movies have officially reached peak bonkers.
Long gone are the days of subtlety; the curious days where demonic possession and mass murder occurred off-screen, and the audience was left to figure out for themselves exactly what happened.
See a horror film now, and you’ll notice one thing: any sense of nuance is blown to smithereens.
Annabelle: Creation tells the story of former doll-maker Sam Mullins, and his bed-ridden wife Esther. The couple lost their 7-year-old daughter in a tragic car accident, years earlier. In the film, the couple open their home to a nun and six orphans.
Terror soon unfolds, however, as the young orphans discover an old, locked up doll made by Sam that seems to have a life of its own.
Horror, a previously cunning and devious genre, is now a lot more straightforward. It's a recipe. A series of predictable steps each and every production company follows in order to create a film with slightly more shock-value than the last.
The goal of the modern day horror film, simply put, is to spook all over your face. In your ears. In your mouth. Everywhere. It beats you over the head with abhorrence and stuffs your throat with dismay.
Nothing is left to the imagination.
I would love to say Annabelle: Creation breaks this mould. I would love to say it delights and surprises and entertains with a degree of modulation; of subtlety.
But it doesn't, really. It's a 2017 horror film. It's stupidly loud and flops absurdity in your face; leaves nothing to the imagination. And as a result? It's... fine.
Leaving the film, this was the general vibe among cinema-goers.