Around October, moviegoers must suffer through an endless assault of vampire retreads or lazy attempts to make a quick buck. Rarely do you see a take on a vampire story that feels like something you’ve never seen before. Turns out, the Chilean director who makes repressed political dramas has a much darker side than just the Royal Family. Pablo Larrain’s El Conde somehow walks its own strange route to somewhere weird, but also new and exciting. Maybe those powerful leaders are more sinister than you think.
For those who don’t know, Augusto Pinochet was Chile’s dictator from 1973 to 1990, famous for suppressing opposition through cruel and violent methods. El Conde posits that Pinochet’s story doesn’t start in Chile…it starts during the French Revolution in the 1790s. There, Claude Pinoche (Clemente Rodriguez) barely escapes guillotining after serving in the French military. Before too many people realize he’s a vampire, Claude relocates to South America, changing his name to Augusto Pinochet (Jaime Vadell). From there, Pinochet vows to avenge Marie Antoinette, and goes about ascending to power in Chile and keeping revolutions in check. Eventually, his zest for living fades and he grows old, even for 250 years old. This prompts a couple things: Pinochet’s wife Lucia (Gloria Munchmeyer) and his 5 kids start parasitically showing up, hoping their inheritance will finally bear $$$$; also, the church smells weakness, and sends their most devoted nun Carmen (Paula Luchsinger) to finally get rid of this endless dictatorial reign for good.
Larrain’s previous film was Spencer. I wasn’t a huge fan of the storytelling, but I was sufficiently unnerved everytime Diana walked into another chilly soulless estate room. Larrain takes that surreal, creepy energy and applies to El Conde. What results is beautifully macabre. The black and white gives the story a timeless essence that helps transport the viewer out of real time to a new, but unchanging, ephemeral dreamscape. Larrain unnerves in different ways without color: here he really plays with light and shadow. Whether it be single beams of light across a floor or sinister morning walks across Pinochet’s foggy estate, El Conde is constantly impressing the audience while also making them a little uneasy and restless in their seats, a tricky balance that perfectly fits the story Larrain is telling.
Starting with his brilliant premise: vampire dictator. Maybe its just me, but people in power do an excellent job of staying in power, slowly withering away until the very last minute. Larrain takes that basic idea and turns it into a dark farce a la Armando Iannucci, with Augusto waxing “poetically” about developing the strength to suppress all uprisings to make it up to Marie Antoinette. The Pinochet family is never really scared of their vampire father; if anything they’re angry at who he is, because they can’t suckle off the money teet as much as they would have hoped if he were dead. As such, all of them scheme and manipulate in every way possible to try to feed their greed. Carmen is a pawn for apparently everyone here, determined in her mission but WAY over her head when it comes to political capability. The family uses peasants like Carmen or Augusto’s faithful servant Fyodor (Alfredo Castro) until they serve their purpose, ready to discard them whenever a purer, more loyal peasant becomes available. This silly political intrigue is juxtaposed nicely with some truly sinister behavior from everyone involved. Gee, I wonder who the cannibal serial killer is in Santiago? That horrifying idea instills fear in the populous, keeping them from questioning anything the daytime Pinochet does, which is horrifying in its own right. Throw in a truly bonkers hidden in plain sight incredible twist in the third act, and Larrain has built an unholy combination of Nosferatu and Spencer, menacing in one moment and ludicrous the next, but completely its own, wonderful thing.
El Conde is one of those “why I’m glad I still subscribe to Netflix” movies. Every now and again, the streaming giant throws that big wallet around and gives really smart filmmakers a chance to make whatever their heart desires. While I like Pablo Larrain’s other films, he finally put it together with Netflix coin, a little Dracula, and a little uptight politics. If you keep making stuff like this Netflix, I’ll keep paying $25 or so a month. But not $30…that’s some Pinochet level greed.