Review: ‘La Llorona,’ a plea for a reckoning

Guatemala has the third highest rate of femicide (gender-based murder against women) in the world. As New York Times reported last year, “the homicide rate for women is more than three times the global average.” Such bleak statistics stem from a long history of violence and oppression of indigenous peoples, including a 36-year civil war characterized by mass genocide and rape of women. Firmly rooted in this startling, grim reality, La Llorona is a political and social drama knotted with very deep, oozing sores of classicism, racism, and femicide ⏤ neatly tied together with the tortured spirit of La Llorona, a moralist tale that still haunts much of Latin America.

Director Jayro Bustamante draws upon his youth and heritage to reassess La Llorona’s role in “mandating the behavior of women,” he writes in his director’s statement. He excavates the fear the myth still elicits and reapplies it in a new context, shedding light on Guatemala’s tragic and recent past. In using classic horror conventions, he is able to drive home the savagery of real life through squeamish, unnerving imagery.

La Llorona, thankfully very light on jump scares, follows Enrique Monteverde (Julio Díaz), a retired former General (not unlike real-life dictator Efraín Ríos Montt), and his wife Carmen (Margarita Kénefic), daughter Natalie (Sabrina De La Hoz), and granddaughter Sara (Ayla-Elea Hurtado). When the past finally catches up to him, Enrique is put on trial for knowingly giving orders that led to mass murder. “Telling the truth helps heal all wounds from the past,” the presiding judge says before handing down her final ruling. Following 80+ witnesses, including a very broken older woman, whose testimony is enough to chill the soul, his guilt is pretty evident. He is then convicted for his crimes.

Or so you think. The court soon annuls the verdict and any possible sentence altogether, sparking outrage throughout the community and surrounding area. As the family is confronted with Enrique’s crimes ⏤ Natalie especially struggles to reconcile her parents’ beliefs and what she knows in her heart ⏤ the entire servant and wait staff, except for Valeriana (María Telón), flee for their lives. A mysterious maid named Alma (María Mercedes Coroy), allegedly a former colleague of Valeriana’s, suddenly arrives to help keep the home in order. Of course, perceptions are not always what they seem. Enrique, whose physical and mental health is in swift decline, might pay for all the pain he has caused after all.

La Llorona towers over The Curse of La Llorona, the 2019 film embedded in The Conjuring universe, and emerges as a plea for a long-awaited reckoning for justice, healing, and peace. Bustamante artfully and carefully handles the material, discarding the Hollywood way of doing things and opting to “contribute to the dialogue about the unconcluded process of reconciliation in Guatemala and thus free us from weeping for our dead children for all eternity,” he says.

La Llorona burns with a slow, methodical approach. It’s far less about quick, fleeting terror than it is about the kind that drills into the back of the head. Real life is far more horrifying than any fiction set to screen. Jayro Bustamante’s offering will make sure you never sleep properly again.

La Llorona hits Shudder this Thursday (August 6).

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