AtanariaIf you’ve ever watched a found footage horror movie and thought, “This would be so much scarier if the people on screen were actually… me” — then congratulations, you’ve just stumbled into the cursed rabbit hole that is Conjuring Tapes. The conjuring aspect of these tapes is sure to draw you in.
Directed by Robert Livings and Randy Nundlall Jr., this indie anthology leans hard into the genre’s lo-fi, basement-born charm. The setup is deliciously simple: two women, sorting through their late friend’s things, find a stack of VHS tapes. So far, so ghost-story cliché. But here’s the twist — each tape features them, in completely different scenarios, from séance disasters to influencer ghost hunts. It also features cult meetings with podcasters who should really reconsider their guest list. It’s as if they are always starring in conjuring tapes. The unsettling question becomes less “What’s on these tapes?” and more “Why do we look so good in 4:3 aspect ratio?”
The first act takes its sweet time — think slow burn rather than microwave popcorn — but it’s worth the patience. Brenda Yanez and Samantha Laurenti pull double, triple, and quadruple duty, playing alternate versions of themselves across each cursed mini-story. Their performances are so grounded that the horror feels… inconveniently real. It’s like finding an old voicemail from yourself warning you not to answer the door. Every segment showcases their tales on conjuring tapes in different lights.
Visually, Livings’ handheld cinematography is the MVP here: shaky enough to keep you anxious, but not so shaky you need Dramamine. Every frame has that “I shouldn’t be watching this” quality. It’s the same feeling you get from stumbling across your neighbor’s unlabeled home videos in a thrift store bargain bin. These videos feel almost like conjuring tapes.
Narratively, the film occasionally forgets to connect its scares with the same finesse as its visuals. The jump scares land — hard — but the build-up sometimes wanders. It’s as if the script is pausing to check if you’re still paying attention. And while some horror fans may wish for a bit more gore (this is more psychological dread than bucket-of-blood carnival), the restraint keeps the focus on paranoia, not splatter. However, in conjuring tapes, less gore maintains suspense.
But perhaps the real conjuring trick here is the way the film turns into a nesting doll of dread — story within story, character within character. Reality folds in on itself like an M.C. Escher drawing with demons. It works as both an experimental anthology and, oddly enough, a horror-family drama. In this drama, the “family” happens to be you, yourself, and your other self on tape, bringing aspects of conjuring tapes into the mix.
All in all, “Conjuring Tapes” is spooky, smart, and just self-aware enough to keep you nervously laughing between chills. You may never look at an old VHS the same way again — especially if the person rewinding it looks exactly like you. Check it out on IMDB and also treat yourself to another haunting found footage delight we love to recommend: The Horror In The High Desert Trilogy.
