Having inspired everything from extreme gothic metal to a series of manga books, Sheridan Le Fanu’s 19th-century lesbian vampire romance Carmilla was about due a modern movie adaptation. Vampires and forbidden love have, over the past decade, grown to be teen cinema’s bread and butter, and the queer context of the central story speaks to a new generation of cinemagoers while adding an extra veil of oppression to the already heavily regulated life of our frustrated protagonist.
Unlike previous big-screen revamps that have transported Carmilla to South Carolina (The Unwanted) or 20th-century Italy (Blood And Roses), filmmaker Emily Harris — who also wrote the screenplay — moors her version of the story in the British countryside, where Lara (Hannah Rae) wanders between the shadowy interiors of a stately manor and its lush, sun-dappled grounds. Under the strict if well-meaning dictatorship of Miss Fontaine (Jessica Raine), Lara — motherless and with a largely absent father — allows her solitude to swell to the point of despair, until an upturned carriage brings the chaotic, bloodthirsty Carmilla (Devrim Lingnau) into the fold.
Both actors carry the relationship from its tentative beginnings to its heady climax commendably; Rae — best known for Broadchurch — bottles the longing that drives Lara and holds it just beneath the surface, while Lingnau harnesses the beguiling magnetism that makes Carmilla so desirable.
The problem lies in the surrounding film’s inability to keep up with the two. Harris is visibly operating on a small budget, but her tendencies to drown scenes in darkness to the point of distraction and rely on metaphorical storytelling (namely stylised shots of neighbouring wildlife) feel heavy-handed against the subtle evolution of the girls’ relationship. As a result, Carmilla, much like its protagonist, feels stifled, straining to nurture a tender love story that falls just out of reach.