Generations of Latin children were terrified by threats of this ghost, but the white writers mostly miss the point in this effective but misguided effort
When I was about eight years old, my little sister and I developed a habit of sneaking out of our bedroom in the middle of the night to go watch TV in the living room. We weren’t the most stealthy kids, so obviously we were caught a few times. The last time we snuck out, it was our grandmother who found us watching Looney Tunes in the middle of the night, and as she yelled at us in Spanish, told us that if we continued to misbehave, La Llorona would come to snatch us both, and take us to be with her forever, because she looked for little kids who didn’t listen to their parents.
For many nights after, my sister and I lied still, staring at every shadow, jumping at every tiny sound, and wondering if La Llorona would get us if we dared get out of our beds. It’s that fear that I, like many other Latinx people, recall whenever we hear the name “La Llorona.” And it’s that fear that the film “The Curse of La Llorona” completely neglects, opting instead for predictable jump scares, a white-savior narrative, and an oversimplified script from writers who have no connection to Latin culture, which may be its ultimate demise.
Anna Tate-Garcia (Linda Cardellini) has a lot on her plate: She’s a Child Protective Services caseworker, a mother of two children, and a widow of an LAPD cop. One of her cases, Patricia (Patricia Velásquez), has missed check-ins and appointments, so Anna has to make a surprise home visit. What Anna finds is a terrified Patricia, who has placed candles and charms all over her apartment, and locked her children in a closet covered in drawings of an eye (or as Latinos may know it, “el ojo”) to hide them from La Llorona. Anna removes Patricia’s sons from their mother and places them in a temporary shelter until they can determine if they are safe to go home, despite Patricia’s protests and screams that “she” will get them.
