“A harrowing, gritty story of vengeance.”

In August of 2013, the relatively peaceful border town of Ciudad Juárez in Mexico was introduced to a figure that would become part of their local folklore. On two occasions over the course of a few days, a mysterious woman stepped onto one of the many buses running that morning and, without warning, shot the drivers dead. A few days later an email was received by local journalists, in which the figure identified herself solely as “Diana, Hunter of the Bus Drivers”, without any additional information that could lead to her capture. Ever since, her identity remains entirely unknown, as do her motives. However, speculation has mostly led to the belief that the culprit – as described by the shell-shocked onlookers – was an ordinary, nondescript middle-aged woman, not standing out from the crowds of people making their way across the city at the time, and was very likely committing these acts out of revenge. This town had been terrorised by a string of sexual assaults and acts of murder going back decades, and many posit that it was likely a victim or one of their relatives who decided to take matters into her own hands, regardless of the cost. The story has fascinated the local community for over a decade, with many speculating about her identity and what led her to commit these crimes. Suzanne Andrews Correa is one of many people with whom this story has resonated and who brings her interpretation of “Diana” to the screen in the form of The Huntress (La Cazadora), in which she imagines the suspect as Luz (portrayed by Adriana Paz, in a very impressive performance), the victim of a brutal rape,  who has been traumatised to the point where she struggles to function. Especially when she notices her teenage daughter is starting to become curious and independent, which Luz believes will only lead to her becoming a victim herself if she’s not careful.

The Huntress is relentlessly unambiguous in its intentions – recent statistics show that roughly 3% of murder victims in Mexico are the result of gender-based violence, with Ciudad Juárez having one of the highest rates of femicides in the country. This is not a trivial story of someone seeking revenge, but rather a bold and uncompromising attempt to shed light on what is essentially a social and cultural epidemic. Correa chooses to focus on a particular story that is not only one of the most well-known cases in contemporary Mexican culture (which lends it an immediate credibility, since it allows the director to base the story on real events), but that encompasses the crisis and the nuances that are often missing when we look solely at statistics. The focus is on personifying “Diana”, whose identity we still don’t know, but who was very likely either a victim herself or someone who existed in close proximity to a woman who did experience such a brutal act. Building from the skeletal premise of the “rape-and-revenge” sub-genre, albeit taking a more nuanced and deliberate approach to the protagonist’s quest for retribution against the perpetrators of these heinous crimes, the film provides unique insights into the mind of a woman who has grown tired of living in fear and chooses to risk everything to protect her community. As a character says late in the film, “the most dangerous animal is a mother with nothing left to lose”, which is an appropriate description for a film that shows someone who has made a bold decision, regardless of the cost.

The director is very specific in how she approaches this subject matter, and extremely cautious, aware of the potential for controversy with a story that is essentially a psychological portrait of a cold-blooded killer. While revenge thrillers are undeniably popular, Correa is not interested in resorting to techniques that would show the actions of this vengeful person as in any way thrilling or entertaining. The two murders that bookend the film are difficult to watch, shrouded in an intentionally dense, uncomfortable veneer which places us in the position of not only the protagonist, but also the observers. They find themselves witnessing a brutal act without any context, which will only come later (if at all, as this film doesn’t provide many answers to its core questions, an intentional choice on the part of the director), one of the many acts of murder committed in this community. The film is layered with tension and despair, and the director refuses to make The Huntress anything less than a daunting experience, something that may prove divisive amongst those who feel conflicted about the themes being explored. Yet it is a well-crafted thriller, one in which the slower, deliberate pace reflects a quiet tension at the heart of the film. It presents an intimidating but provocative portrait of a woman burdened with the pain of doing what is difficult, but what she views as essential to bring about meaningful change in her community, directly addressing the shadows of the past and fighting for the memories of those people who live within them.

A harrowing, gritty story of vengeance, The Huntress is a well-made film by a director who may be making her feature-length debut, but is already self-assured enough in her craft to tell this haunting story with precision and a steadfast dedication to a challenging subject, even if it can be slightly ambiguous in terms of its motivations at certain points. The aim of this film is not to be some enthralling depiction of one woman’s journey through retribution, but rather to show that revenge is not always about skill, but rather the desire to see change, regardless of the consequences of these decisions which she views as essential. In a community where sexual assault and murder have become so common that they don’t even stir a strong reaction unless they are committed in plain sight, such responses need to occur to evoke some progress. Violence begetting more violence is, unfortunately, a reality in many communities, but when fear and despair for one’s fundamental safety calcifies into unhinged anger, the desire to exact revenge on those who inflict suffering becomes too overwhelming to ignore. Correa is aware that this story is not resolving the crisis, but rather showing a single chapter in an ongoing social epidemic. Through looking at the subject from the perspective of someone who has grown far too angry to allow herself to stand idly by, we’re presented with a harrowing depiction of trauma and retribution, which shows how trauma can dwell within the soul indefinitely and lead seemingly ordinary people down unexpected paths, from which true escape is never entirely possible.