Sad, splatty, history lessons: My Weekend in Latin American Horror
Written by Jess Sweetman
Would you believe me if I told you that you can learn as much from a culture by its horror movies as its sweeping dramas? What better way to understand a culture than by exploring its shadow side.
In this spirit, last weekend, I binge watched horror movies from Argentina, Colombia, Mexico, Guatemala, and Peru.
My original idea had been to cover Latin American Horror films, which is impossible without a lot of drugs and watching everything at 5x speed - and I’m far too sensible these days for that sort of thing. Latin America is made up of 33 countries with varying languages, histories, politics, stories, levels of wealth, and industries, each with its own story of colonialism past and present, but certainly no monoculture.
Since I’m someone who speaks only English and B1 German, there are limits on the films that I was able to find - especially in such a short time - which were available with subtitles. In addition, last weekend showed me that often the films that gain international acclaim and distribution seem to focus on the tragic sides of countries - in their history or present, which perhaps says something about how Europe and the USA wish to see their poorer cousins - rather than giving a true view of a country’s shadow side as shown by its filmmakers. All of the countries I watched movies by have domestic film industries producing a wider range of sub-genres of horror for those closer to their home.
So take my word as one of a tourist in a rush, wishing to dip a toe into the ocean over one weekend. I personally have found this exploration to be a perfect jumping off point from which to begin a lifelong obsession:
Argentina
“cuando acecha la maldad” (“when evil lurks”) demián rugna, 2024
My brain may never recover from watching “When Evil Lurks”. The bloody supernatural folk horror won an Argentinian Film Academy Award as well as accolades on the global festival circuit. It’s a film about human ineptitude in the face of a curse. It’s also a film about bloody, squelchy, icky, explosive GORE.
The story, according to the director, grew from his reaction to the Argentinian government’s silence in the face of pesticide poisoning in rural communities. The characters are poor, live in the countryside, and nothing is coming to save them. And the film does not hold back, and children, animals, and adults are all dispatched in some very creative and disgusting ways. This article in Polygon Mag sums up the horror so well.
This story about a witch finding her deepest powers in order to save her child could have been a gender-reversed and feminist version of “Taken”, (teenage girls who have been kidnapped by sex traffickers with parents who go scorched earth in order to save them). But I feel “Bruja’s” mix of occult, fear, and politics, makes it a deeper exploration of patriarchy, corruption, power, and the lasting impact of violence.
As our heroine, known and shunned in her community for being a witch, fights to find her daughter, there are echoes of the sacrifices of the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo, who were made pariahs in their communities by protesting for the return of their missing children during Argentina’s military dictatorship from 1976-1983.
It takes a witch’s power to fight a weaponised bureaucracy and a violent state, portrayed by corrupt cops and smarmy politicians.
It’s at this point in my movie marathon that I start measuring how many crying fits I have per film. This one gave me 3.
The black and white, 90’s indie looking “Habitaciones para turistas” is a film about male violence against women, bodily autonomy, creepy houses, and murder. It’s ostensibly a slasher film, but, in its dreamlike sensibility, it leans arthouse.
Ultimately, the slasher set-up is a punishment to the girls for stepping outside their patriarchally presumed roles with their sexuality, ambition, haughtiness, and queerness, there to be stamped out violently by the men.
I found out about this film from this podcast featuring Valeria Villegas Lindvall and May Santiago in conversation on May’s podcast Horrorspiria. You can check out the full conversation here.
Crying fits? A measly 1. And now I’m off to Mexico.
The heartbreaking Mexican / Guatemalan fairy tale horror film “Tigers Are Not Afraid” is a film about children surviving amid a drug war, in the face of abandonment from their murdered parents and the non-existent state, and the hope inherent in realising your own power.
According to director Isa Lopez, she chose the subject because: “There’s an abundance of stories about the cartels and the drug lords and it’s even been romanticized. But one thing you don’t see is the cost of that, and especially with children.”
There are lots of great discussions about this movie - this piece on ArtPost is good.
Crying fits: Just one - but it lasted the entire way through the film and continued for a while after. Which led to my next decision…:
Okay. I’m not able to deal with any more dead children today, so I’m changing my own rules. It’s time for an 80’s slasher / action movie and, like any good 80’s horror film, - “Hell’s Trap” is worth it entirely for the extremely shiny curly mullet sported by our hero Nacho (Pedro Fernandez).
The slasher in this movie, Jesse, is an American who started killing after moving to Mexico on his release from the military, having served in Vietnam. Yes folks, it’s an anti-war slasher movie. I’m in!
Not only this, but Jesse is also a person of colour who is wearing a white mask and blonde wig, which I choose to believe is a commentary on American racism, classism, and imperialism in one go. This film is a little bit slasher, a little bit Rambo, and a lot of fun.
Crying fits - NONE! Hooray! Just mullety joy!
BONUS SHORT - which Guillemo Del Toro picked up to make full length, English language version of:
Guatemala
la llorona (jayro bustamante, 2019)
“La Llorona” has been released to international acclaim - it won a Golden Globe, among other accolades. It not hard to see why, it explores the profound impact of genocide, the banality of evil, complicity, and the respectability politics of fascism. It, like others on this list, reveals a state that would rather protect evil than do good. The supernatural is imprinted over true events, giving an alternative reading of a painful history. It also rewrites a Latin American supernatural figure, La Llorona, the Weeping Woman, into a political story.
Check out Kate Sanchez’s description of the political backdrop of the Mayan Genocide for more insight on this film.
In several moving scenes, La Llarona, who haunts the central family (the family of a war criminal) by making the wife dream from the point of view of a mother who was massacred, along with her two children, in an action ordered by the Patriarch of the family. Once the entitled, coddled wife, an expert at ignoring her husband’s crimes, is made to FEEL - she cannot return to ignorance.
It reminds me of the power of cinema to spark understanding through empathy. Those feelings that arise when you watch a film from a place you might not know, but understand what it is to be a human there - that is the genie that will never go back in the bottle. That's the importance of the films I've watched today. While I did not know much detail about the history of mythology of Mexico, Argentina, and Guatemala, I come away having felt the work of several of their artists now and it has changed my perspective.
Crying fits: 4. I’m going to bed!
day 2. a lot of a googling later - peru
After a 9a.m. start, I spend several hours looking for Peruvian horror movies to stream. I feel taunted, because I’m pretty sure I would love the folk horror “El Banquete”, the trippy “Videophilia (and Other Viral Syndromes)”, and the ouija board horror “Cementerio General” - but nothing is available in my location.
“the dream of ariana” (2023, evelyne pegot-ogier)
By [1], Fair use
After a couple of hours I stumble upon the 2023 virus / zombie / horror / drama on Youtube with auto generated subtitles. In Lima there’s a zombie virus outbreak and once more the unhelpful state is there to botch a response, represented by faceless shooting cops and smarmy politicians. There’s also a twist of adding the dangers of social media to the mix in encouraging violence and bad information (fun fact, filming of this movie was postponed during COVID.)
And - well I’m not sure if this was lost in translation, but there’s a thread where sub-par medical student Ariana wants to use plants, rest, and sunlight to treat the afflictted, pitting her against her tutor and a fellow student who speak over her in their need to develop a vaccine. Is this some RFK Jr stuff? I cannot find any interviews with the director to back it up - which means I need to dedicate my life to watching more Peruvian horror.
Crying fits: I don’t think I have any tears left after yesterday.
Colombia
luz: the flower of evil (2019) juan diego escobar alzate
According to Wikipedia, the astoundingly gorgeous-looking fantasy horror “Luz: The Flower of Evil” gained “68 official selections at international film festivals, secured 24 awards out of more than 40 nominations.”
I wonder if this film is a metaphor for colonialism, too, as the brutality against the bucolic setting is such a huge feature. The father of the group forces himself on the local village women in order to father more Jesus’, who he then mistreats to their death. Meanwhile his daughters - his Angels - are hidden from the world, sheltered from the brutality, but forced to work on the farm as good servants of a patriarchy. The religious overtones ring out, without having to decide where to land.
But, according to this write up by Pete Woods: “The director has stated that its purpose “is to question the viewer and their own morality and faith” and that it is not “a crowd-pleasing film.”” So there!
Puerto Rico and Haiti
I was looking forward to seeing some Puerto Rican or Haitian horror movies. Lord knows that both places and their lore have been used as objects in foreign horror enough. But to answer the question of why I can’t find anything, I turned to Film Scholar, podcaster,filmmaker, artist, and Latin American Horror expert May Santiago.
In your Horrorspiria (May’s podcast - listen here) discussion Of Latin American horror films, you talked about the issues facing Puerto Rican filmmakers, especially around distribution. Would you mind summarising this for us?
Unlike other Latin American countries, Puerto Rico is still actively a colony. Furthermore, resources that are available to other Latin American countries, including self-governance of their own funds, is non-existent in Puerto Rico because there is a Financial Oversight and Management Board for Puerto Rico made up of mostly US appointees that have exacerbated Puerto Rico’s debt brought through colonization, to begin with.
Long story short: there is very little money in the Puerto Rican economy, and very little of it is allocated to the arts. In the United States, the Hollywood and B-movie industries are funded through capitalists or independent entities with a much stronger economy and network that allows most films made in the United States to be seen. Puerto Rico’s film industry is a colonized film industry that has been plundered by both Hollywood and the Puerto Rican Film Commission, which favors Hollywood projects. The few independent films made yearly in Puerto Rico rely on funds provided by other entities, such as European film funds or co-productions with Latin America, all of which can be difficult to come by when your competition for such sources of funding is literally the entire world.
Even once the films are made, their exhibition runs are very dependent on the distribution deals they made, which can vary from 1 weekend in 2 Caribbean Cinemas theaters or buried on Prime Video with little promotion or awareness that the film is streaming. After putting so much work into a film barely anyone has seen, many filmmakers are tired and discouraged to either continue promoting the film or starting the arduous process again for minimal awareness.
Has the situation improved or changed since recording that episode?
In many ways, it’s only gotten worse. Puerto Rico continues to be plundered by a pro-statehood, right-wing ruling class that just recently won another election. However, there are pockets of resistance, particularly with the youth. And artists in Puerto Rico will somehow always persist.
Do you see similar problems with Haitian horror getting an international audience? If so could you elaborate a little?
The only perceived advantage the Puerto Rican film industry has is a tenuous connection to the Hollywood film industry. Haiti’s film industry struggles due to immense exploitation and a crumbling infrastructure. That being said, as of this year, many Haitian filmmakers and local government officials are trying to start a new filmmaking initiative called Lakaywood. It’s hard to tell how this will have legs in the long run, but I do think an initiative like this shows promise and awareness as opposed to the struggles that still remain in places like Haiti and Puerto Rico.
An international audience can’t watch films if they’re not being made. This is a huge reason why so many Caribbean natives move into media diasporas. Otherwise, it’s difficult to see how they can access consistent media and film productions.
That said, have you managed to find and watch any to date? Any recommendations?
Unfortunately, I have not been able to find any Haitian-directed horror films. Instead, there is a gross fascination and appropriation of many Western filmmakers who turn to a fetishization of Voudou and claim that they’re doing Haiti a favor by popularizing information about the practice. I do want to note as well that if there were any DIY projects in Haiti, they would be in the French language or Haitian Creole dialect. I am not fluent in that language, so the capabilities of my research are limited.
conclusion
Despite (or because of) all of the tears, I loved wandering through the work of so many interesting artists. Like a tiny child vampire after her first drops of blood - I want MORE!
It was refreshing to see horror films placing an uncaring, violent, or bureaucratic-to-the-point-of-death State as the co-antagonist - aside from films focussing on an experience of otherness, like the resurgence of black horror in the USA, or immigrant and refugee stories in Europe - and I wonder if it will become more of a factor in more films at some point in the future.
Looking at the filmmakers’ ways of dealing with violent colonial histories, the imposition of patriarchal religion and the subjugation of the colonised culture through horror brings a terrifying dimension, one that is also truly relatable. There’s a lesson to be felt in watching and understanding many of these films. One that the filmmakers assume we probably won’t learn.
In all, I’m on the upswing of the Dunning-Kruger graph, having viewed a few films and feeling very smug about some similarities, but I feel any further watching - and there WILL be further watching - will allow me to question my own assumptions and learn more as I go along.
If you’re interested in finding out more, please follow May Santiago’s Blog and other works, plus the hilarious and enjoyable++ ¡UY QUE HORROR! A LATINX HORROR MOVIE PODCAST, and reading Valeria’s book. And if you see a Latin American horror is playing at a festival near you - RUN TO IT! And then tell me all about it.
