by Joshua Skye:
Vampire tales are among the most plentiful of the horror genre. From erotic passions to profound treatises on morality, the pale, often sharp-toothed demigods have connected with terror fans unlike any other fantastical creature. The appeal even transcends the genre’s devoted fan base. There’s a deviation and style to suit any desire.
The popularity of vampires, no matter how flooded with them the realms of horror become, will never fade away. They are our fantasy just as much as we are their own. Subsequently, it is rare to come across a vampire story that is unique and lives up to the dreary lore of the undead being itself, not to mention the creator’s individual promises.
Lemora: A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural, I am pleased to say, does.
The very title suggests a particular ambiance, an aura of the gruesome and the extraordinary, perhaps a bedtime story venturing straight to hell, gleefully guiding us there. Writer/director Richard Blackburn dared to welcome us to an inimitable otherworldly vampire-dominion, and he did it with a knowing and all-too mischievous grin.
Dark and haunting, the film tells the tale of the angelic Lila Lee, an innocent teenage girl raised in the strict, oppressive atmosphere of a small, backwoods church. Trapped in a cage of social construct, the young lady finds herself confused by the jealousies of the women and the lustful advances of the men all around her. In the span of only a few moments, Blackburn masterfully depicts the eerie disquiet of religious piety and hypocrisy, a sect populated with routine sinners who become newborn saints on Sunday mornings.
One night, the naive teenager receives a strange letter from the mysterious Lemora beckoning her to her father’s side, to his deathbed. With childlike abandon, Lila Lee sets out on a progressively unsettling journey to be reunited with her lost father. The excursion is nothing short of nightmarish, where the iniquities of her everyday existence bloom around her, building to an unnerving crescendo aboard a bus on route to the very depths of misery.
Once in the home of the mystifying Lemora, Lila Lee’s descent is not over. Indeed, her father is there, but the truth of his condition has not been revealed. It seems he’s not dying, he’s transforming into something animal, something like the sinister figures she’s seen running among the trees in the shadowy woods. And none of them are alone, an endlessly peculiar assembly of children lives there, too. Slowly, Lemora manipulates Lila’s naiveté, pressuring her into ever more demoralizing situations and behaviors.
What are Lemora’s real reasons for summoning Lila Lee to her gloomy home? Discovering them might just be the girl’s final corruption.
Though Lemora: A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural has its faults and limitations, there is no doubting its uncanny and often hypnotic power. We genuinely feel lulled into its dreamy arms, embraced by its disconcerting mood, and ultimately we are spellbound by it. The crude make-up effects, strange editing, and occasional plot inconsistencies only add to the dream-like feel of the film. It is an awe-inducing experience.
Bathed in darkness, oozing with imagination, and tenderly cultivated, Lemora is a film unlike any other. I realize this is a powerful and over-used sentiment, but in the case of this classic genre piece it is absolutely true. My only wish is that this film had been more successful upon its initial release so that Richard Blackburn could have crafted more tales for us. With this as merely a glimpse of his abilities, one can only imagine the other worlds he could have shown us. Still, he leaves an indelible mark on the horror genre.
Bravo, Mr. Blackburn. Bravo!
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