Perhaps, it’s the moment for righteous revenge. Laura Casabé’s The Virgin of Quarry Lake certainly struck a chord with me. The horror film offers a particularly alluring fantasy for this moment, showing as it does, teen girls coming of age during the 2001 Argentinian crisis and enacting their will upon the world.
Based on two of Mariana Enríquez’s stories, the film’s protagonist is Natalia (played by the soon-to-be-famous Dolores Oliverio). She’s a de facto orphan, both her parents gone. She’s being raised by her grandmother (Luisa Merelas, equal parts tough and supportive) in the outskirts of Buenos Aires. Power outages are common. TVs blare, promising quick cash. And water is rationed, available only by the bucketful.
But Natalia’s 19 and eager to get her grown-up life started. She’s set her eyes on her childhood friend, Diego, who’s given her just enough encouragement to keep her hooked. Rounding out their group of friends are three other girls, two from childhood who mostly follow Natalia’s lead and an interloper Silvia, who’s older and more experienced.
“I want to reflect how harsh [the crisis was] when you are a teenager… how harsh it was for us when we see that everyone around us is falling apart,” director Casabé tells Latina Media Co in a bilingual interview at Sundance. She’s particularly close to her subject, having been a teen at the time and place she’s depicting.
“We use archetypes from the fantastic – witches and demons,” she explains. “The real demon? Actually, it’s not Natalia, the girl. The real demon is that social crisis and how harsh it is in the everyday life of people.”
Casabé achieves this kinship with her main character (and her misplaced rage) through an uncanny closeness with Natalia. It’s not just the director’s personal experience or how the short stories “talk about feelings – so honest, so raw.” It’s also the camera and color work. “I didn’t want to be grotesque,” recounts Casabé. “We want to use normal lenses, but the camera to be really close. Something [is] going on that is weird at some points, but you cannot define it.”
“Let’s go through realistic tones and realistic toner colors, and let’s portray the summer. Let’s portray the hotness and how intense and how disturbing it can be when you have a crisis and you have shutdowns and everything,” she elaborates. “These two worlds coexist. The world where this violence and something extraordinary happens. And [the world of] the friends. This energy between [them] is flowing and realistic. You travel from real to unreal.”
Throughout The Virgin of Quarry Lake, Natalia oscillates from a normal teen to a paranormal agent of revenge. Close-up shots of violence burst out of the frame, bookending the film. But then they recede, allowing a slow build of tension. In fact, the film’s vibe is more unease than blood, despite there being plenty of both.
The unease pairs with empathy, thanks in part to the casting. Oliverio was just 18 at the time of filming, and Casabé reports that it was important to her that none of her young cast were over 20. At that age, “your body is telling the story… You’re still a child. [You’re] just starting to become a woman, and your body tells that.” Natalia and her friends are in this moment of transition and their journey is, of course, marked by the unrest surrounding them.
Like the most infamous horror coming-of-age heroine, Carrie, Natalie is oppressed and grappling with her sexuality. But her real problems are geopolitical in nature, something even paranormal abilities won’t help her address. Instead, she focuses on the regular teenage stuff of first loves, gossip, and losing her virginity. She’s never a helpless victim like Carris, so when she acts out and does something truly horrible, there’s no pity in the audience’s reaction. The ending of The Virgin of Quarry Lake feels righteous and powerful and strong, partly because Natalia’s revenge is unneeded and completely of her own making. Natalia is in control of herself in a way that Carrie never approaches.
And Natalia’s problems are so relatable. Who hasn’t been passed over? Who hasn’t wanted to blow everything up when it doesn’t go your way? Of course, a lot of adulthood is finding other ways to deal, but it feels good to indulge in a fantasy of what would happen if you had the power and ability to act on your baser instincts.
Natalia’s decision is wrong. But in Laura Casabé’s hands, it feels so right. So while Natalia can’t solve Argentina’s crisis, un-orphan herself, or even save the little boy who stays with her and her grandmother for a while, she can get romantic justice. And that feels damn good.