Often dismissed as schlock, trash, or worse, horror films in the right hands are surprisingly capable of an immense amount of depth. I’m not saying that every scary movie made in the last one hundred years has been a rich tapestry of hidden allegory and deep subtext, but with some digging, you can find a fair bit of intelligence and thoughtful observation hiding in the dark corners of the oft-maligned genre.
Horror (like cousins science fiction, westerns, and film noir) has the unique ability to address important issues without coming right out and saying, “this is an issue film.” And when this ability is used to its fullest, artistic extent, the results often feel more sincere than their dramatic counterparts and can produce a lingering effect that is hard to shake. Such is the case with Guatemalan-made La Llorona – a traditional chiller in all the best ways, but also a barbed condemnation of indigenous genocide and those complicit in it.
The film centers around a former Guatemalan dictator named Enrique Monteverde (played by Julio Diaz, and based on the real-life Efraín Ríos Montt) who, decades after the fact, is finally facing trial for human rights violations and the organized genocide of native Mayans in 1982. Unrepentant, Monteverde and his family live in a spacious estate, shielded from his past atrocities by wealth and privilege. Monteverde’s wife Carmen (Margarita Kenéfic) does everything she can to pass blame and downplay the crimes, while his daughter Natalia (Sabrina De La Hoz) begins to doubt the grand picture that’s been painted of her father all her life.
As the family struggles to maintain control over an increasingly volatile situation, strange things begin happening around the house. Eventually, the housekeeping staff – all native Mayans – quit out of superstitious fear, leaving the pampered family to mostly fend for themselves. With the appearance of Alma (María Mercedes Coroy), a young native woman hired on as a replacement maid, the odd occurrences increase – as do the excuses and victim-blaming. As paranoia and superstition grow, the family is forced to grapple with not only the crimes of the patriarch but their own enablement as well.
La Llorona doesn’t rely on jump scares to unnerve or rattle – it’s much too smart for that. Instead, director Jayro Bustamante uses a combination of mystery, political unrest, folklore, and the subtly supernatural to keep us both guessing and on our toes. Taking elements from Latin America’s famed “Weeping Woman” myths and mixing them with thinly-fictionalized accounts from the Guatemalan genocide of the early-1980s, Bustamante has crafted a frightening tale of spiritual revenge whose ethereal, karmic justice is doled out from some unexpected yet satisfying places.
James is a writer, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.