Based on Sheridan Le Fanu’s 19th-century gothic vampire novella, Carmilla adds a tender coming-of-age twist to what some argue has become a tired YA trope. It skirts around its nosferatu roots, aiming below the neck and into the heart of first love.
Moody 15-year-old Lara (Hannah Rae) lives with her father and strict governess, Miss Fontaine (Jessica Raine). Trying to keep Lara’s idle mind busy and her left hand immobile, she ties Lara’s hand to her back, forcing her to use her ‘clean’ socially acceptable right. Fontaine scolds, whips, and reprimands in equal measure. Her goal is to guide Lara to proper womanhood to the point of female subjugation.
Pigeonholed to a life forced upon her by her father and Fontaine, Lara can’t wait for a girl from a neighboring town to stay for three months. But the girl’s sudden illness and cancellation sink Lara into melancholy. Hope finally arrives in the form of Carmilla (Devrim Lingnau), an alluring stranger who turns Lara’s world upside down. The victim of a stagecoach crash, Carmilla is allowed to recuperate under the watchful eye of Fontaine. Like a moth to a flame, repressed Lara is immediately drawn to her new visitor—both sexually and socially.
Having come upon Lara and Carmilla in each other’s arms, Fontaine appears unable to save her charge from the evil grip of Carmilla’s seduction. She seeks help and refuge in the arms of Dr. Renquist (Tobias Menzies), who appears knowledgable about all things vampire. A book discovered in the crashed carriage carrying Carmilla reveals the forbidden details of her existence and instructions for her demise.
The mystique and power of vampirism are only obliquely utilized in Lara’s relationship with Carmilla. Blood lust and the promise of eternal life are vaguely addressed. And omitted entirely are the downsides of vampirism—the dangers of sunlight, mirror avoidance, the need to return to a nightly resting place, even fear of crosses.
Emily Harris’ sole directorial debut comes on the heels of 2009’s Borges and I and 2015’s Paragraph. The pacing is tight and the Barry Lyndon lighting offers the right visual tone. But given the film’s lack of star power—other than Tobias Menzies (Game of Thrones, Outlander)—Carmilla’s story is forced to do the heavy lifting here.
Its narrow focus aside, the look and feel of Carmella are noteworthy. Cinematographer Michael Wood (Let Me Go) seems to revel in atmospherics, underscoring the film’s emotional beats. Wood’s efforts dovetail nicely with the skillful art direction and production design.
Carmilla is moody and sensual, which draws you in. Visual metaphors often raise more questions than answers. Images of bugs crawling and those depicting natural decay appear as head-scratching non-sequiturs.
Carmilla ambitiously addresses a number of women’s social issues, but its follow-through in fully exploiting its vampire trope may limit its popularity to a YA female audience.
