‘It is not possible that Carmelita did this barbarity.’
A long-lost son returns to his mother at her hacienda in Mexico. When she becomes ill, he takes her to a hospital in the United States, but she dies. Her will leaves him everything, much to the surprise of his sister and everyone else…
Post-war family intrigue with a horror slant, courtesy of writer-director Mauricio Magdaleno. Paquita de Ronda headlines opposite Tito Novaro with notable support from Juan José Martínez Casado.
Life on the hacienda couldn’t be finer for Ana María (de Ronda). Business is booming under the command of her mother, Doña Carmelita (Lola Tinoco), and the matriarch has just agreed to her marriage to the dashing Juan Ramón Ortega (Novaro) despite his lowly origins. However, on the eve of the marriage, a letter arrives from her long-lost brother, Rafael (Martínez). Reported dead in a factory accident, he has spent the last year recuperating in a Canadian hospital. Tinoco delays the wedding ceremony pending the homecoming of Martínez. When he arrives, he takes over running the ranch and befriends foreman Tom López (Enrique Cancino), who has his eyes firmly fixed on de Ronda.
Much to de Ronda’s horror, Martínez forbids her union with Novaro and fires him from his job. Unfortunately, Tinoco cannot object as she has fallen seriously ill. When medical help proves ineffectual, Martínez takes her to the United States, hoping to find a cure. However, when he returns, he brings sad news: Tinoco is dead and buried, the cost of treatment meaning that he did not even have enough money to bring her body home. The subsequent reading of the will reveals that de Ronda has been left nothing by her mother, the entire estate passing to Martínez. That night, the bereaved daughter encounters a mysterious woman dressed entirely in black, moving swiftly through the house and wailing at the top of her voice.
The folk tale of La Llorona is one of the most persistent legends of Latin America. The story has many variations, but essentially, it tells of a poor woman who becomes the mistress of a nobleman and bears his sons. However, he is unfaithful, so she drowns the children as revenge before committing suicide. After death, her spirit is damned to roam the Earth searching for her lost offspring, usually near bodies of water. The tale was first brought to the screen by director Ramón Peón as ‘La Llorona/The Crying Woman’ (1933), a film which is generally accepted as Mexico’s first horror film. That entry followed the legend fairly closely, something that no one could say about Magdaleno’s film.
Given that the legend of La Llorona has many different iterations across many other regions of the continent, a straight remake of Peón’s film would be a disappointment, so it’s to Magdaleno’s credit that he avoids that trap entirely. However, although his take on the tale is very different, it’s deeply unsatisfying. The film’s first half is a pretty straightforward family drama with a hint of a dark side. It’s acceptable enough, even if the characters are so one-dimensional and the story developments so predictable that events are drained of any dramatic impact. It’s a shade before halfway that La Llorona makes her belated entrance, scaring de Ronda half to death. Sadly, it’s pretty clear almost at once that the spirit has been relegated to the role of an almost entirely superfluous plot device and that she won’t be taking an active part in proceedings.
As the mystery unfolds, and my use of the word is generous, matters deteriorate into long scenes of various characters creeping around the darkened passageways of the hacienda to no apparent purpose. The prominent role of comedy relief, Cirilo (Agustín Isunza), is also no help as he and Novaro form a half-hearted ‘Abbott and Costello’ partnership at one stage, minus the American star’s more exaggerated shtick. The basic story setup was popular enough to be resurrected for ‘The Living Coffin/El grito de la muerte’ (1959), with far more accomplished results in every department. Another version based more closely on the source material arrived almost simultaneously with René Cardona’s ‘La Llorona’ (1960), and it wasn’t long before director Rafael Baledon delivered ‘La Maldicion De La Llorona/Curse of the Crying Woman (1963). All of these films are of far more interest than Magdaleno’s effort.
It isn’t easy to find many positives to this project, bar the adequate performances from its professional cast. Almost the entire film takes place on the hacienda, which indicates a restricted budget. However, a skilled director could have turned that to his advantage, using creative techniques to conjure a sense of suspense and claustrophobia. A lack of time and resources may have been against Magdaleno, but everything here feels flat and lifeless, save for a couple of nicely framed shots which have been carefully lit. Actually, there’s a valid argument for this not being a horror film at all. Its credentials in that regard are very slim, especially given the dreadful double cop-out ending. It’s likely ended up on various ‘horror’ and ‘folk horror’ film lists due to its title rather than its content.
Novaro was born in 1918 and debuted as an uncredited bit part actor on the Mexican big screen at the age of 18. From humble beginnings, he carved out a career that lasted over half a century, comprising over 150 acting credits and 27 films where he sat in the canvas seat as the director. In this latter capacity, he delivered his most celebrated works, including the romantic comedy ‘Trampas de Amor’ (1969) and the television film ‘Ni Chana, ni Juana (1984). For cult film fans, though, his participation in the all-in wrestler extravaganza ‘Robbery of the Mummies of Guanajuato/El robo de las momias de Guanajuato’ (1972) will be best remembered. As well as directing the picture, he appeared as evil mastermind Count Cagliostro, and the film proved so popular that a sequel was produced a year later.
Almost unbearably tedious horror mystery without any horror.