Film Review: Annabelle

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I confess, dolls scare the freaking Jesus out of me. I don’t know if it’s some hidden childhood trauma of being eaten by a porcelain doll when I was a foetus or having my mind curdled by a clown at my twelfth birthday (neither of which happened, by the way), the glass doll eyes that stare at you in the dark and the apparently inanimate postures is high octane stuff of nightmares for me.

Which is why I chose to watch Annabelle, because of the freakish doll on the front – the same reason I watched Dead Silence (which by the way is one horrific doll fest, and I will review that in the future.)

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