More specifically, Eve's Bayou recounts a particular summer as seen through the eyes of little Eve Batiste, who solemnly declares in the film's opening voice-over, "The summer I killed my father, I was ten years old...." You're not sure whether to take the pronouncement literally or figuratively (and I'm certainly not going to give that away here), but suffice it to say that it quickly becomes clear that this is a memory piece, and all perspective will become agreeably and poetically hazy.

Early on, at a big family party, Eve catches her adored father, an established community doctor and unrepentant womanizer, in the carriage house with the wife of a family friend. The crux of the film has to do with how the knowledge of this incident, quite traumatic for the little girl, will affect the wider family network. That means Eve's older sister Cisely, her mother, and most importantly, her much beloved eccentric Aunt Mozelle, who presumably possesses psychic powers (others simply say she is crazy).

Part coming-of-age film, part tone poem, part elegy to Sisterhood (without a trace of didacticism, I hasten to add), Eve's Bayou functions as an imaginative and richly evocative portrait of women's intersecting relationships, with the film's reliance on the Creole culture's embrace of voodoo furnishing a particular picancy.

The ensemble acting is quite strong, and in its best moments, the film may have you thinking of a kind of Black Chekhov (notwithstanding the strong Williams touches). Ten-year-old Jurnee Smollett is impressive as Eve, as is Lynn Whitfield as Eve's mother and Diahann Carroll as Elzora, a voodoo High Priestess in competition with Aunt Mozelle. But it is Debbi Morgan's Mozelle herself who steals the show, not just because she is the most exotic and intriguing character, but also because of the particular intensity Ms. Morgan brings to the role. Sometimes, you really do think she's crazy. Other times, she is clearly the sanest in the bunch. The men in this world are of secondary psychological interest to Ms. Lemmons, despite their major role in the plot machinery. That Samuel L. Jackson brings as much sympathy as he does to the role of Louis, the womanizing father, is an indication in itself of this fine actor's skill.

Eve's Bayou has its slightly stilted moments, and there is no doubt that the very same film with the same script and cast made by a veteran director would come across as slightly smoother, less self-conscious. Still, it is an extremely impressive first film and Ms. Lemmons should not only be congratulated but also be given many more chances to refine her craft. I know I will be looking out for her work.