SummaryPablo Larraín's new film is a satire that portrays a universe in which Augusto Pinochet, a 250-year-old vampire who, tired of being remembered as a thief, decides to die. [Netflix]
SummaryPablo Larraín's new film is a satire that portrays a universe in which Augusto Pinochet, a 250-year-old vampire who, tired of being remembered as a thief, decides to die. [Netflix]
A chamber-sized display of cinematic razzle-dazzle, and convoluted political allegory filled with gallows humour and broad polemics, Pablo Larraín’s El Conde re-imagines the Chilean dictator as the 250-year-old vampire star of a 1930s horror movie.
The cruelty at the core of this vivacious vampiric farce is blended up with sharp yet silly gallows humor, ensuring the grim absurdities Larraín gracefully teases out increasingly take flight even as he continually drags us into gruesome and gory depths.
Fusing cinematic genres can be tricky, especially if the mix doesn’t mesh. But the latest from writer-director Pablo Larraín successfully pulls off a brilliantly original blend and does so just about perfectly. This metaphorical account of the life of former Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet (1915-2006) (Jaime Vadell) portrays the onetime-strongman as a vampire a la Dracula (hence the title and the character’s nickname, “the Count”), shot in the style of F.W. Murnau’s black-and-white silent film classic, “Nosferatu” (1922). The story charts the immortal’s life from his birth as orphaned royalist Claude Pinoche in late 18th Century France through the many military campaigns in which he fought to put down radical rebellions before finally rising to power as the right-wing dictator of Chile through the 1973 coup d’état of left-wing President Salvador Allende. But much of the narrative actually follows Pinochet in the years after he was himself out of office, living a life in seclusion after faking his death. It’s a time when he is being stalked by various parties seeking to get their hands on his illegally amassed fortune, including his wife (Gloria Münchmeyer), his longtime butler (Alfredo Castro), a nun/exorcist posing as an accountant auditing his assets (Paula Luchsinger) and his five adult children. And, ironically, as all of this is transpiring, Pinochet himself is in the throes of ennui, trying to make up his mind about whether or not he wants to go on living. Many story threads emerge and become intertwined, satirically invoking wry observations about despotism, greed, power, lust, immortality and religion. On top of all this, there’s an articulate, faceless narrator with a pronounced British accent who tells the tale and makes an unexpected appearance late in the film, taking things in an entirely new direction with deliciously twisted plot developments. Add to all this the film’s stunningly gorgeous monochrome cinematography, superb production design, fine performances and positively sparkling screenplay, along with just enough restrained campiness in the dialogue and special effects to make viewers giggle with delight without becoming silly, and you’ve got one finely crafted production, perfectly integrated and nicely balanced. Admittedly, the pacing drags a smidge late in the second act, but that’s easily dismissed considering how well everything else works together. Also, the film is quite graphic in a number of sequences, so squeamish and sensitive viewers would be wise to avoid this one. But, if you’re not faint of heart and have an appetite for the macabre, give this Netflix exclusive a look. Director Pablo Larraín’s pictures keep getting better and better with every outing, and this is the latest in a string of releases that have firmly established him as one of the finest auteurs in the business these days. Tune in and see for yourself.
Una mirada fresca al género de vampiros, poniendo a un infame tirano precisamente como si fuera uno; sus puntos fuertes son una sub-trama familiar bastante ácida y los efectos especiales, que no necesitaban ser espectaculares.
A true original and deserving winner of the Best Screenplay at the Venice Film Festival, El Conde’s heart-feasting, sexual subplots and accusatory banter coalesce into an extended and unmissable Grand Guignol finale.
A stylishly pessimistic portrait of one man’s villainy and, just as stingingly, the way in which it infected all that he touched—as if through the very blood.
El Conde isn’t big on subtlety (Lachman’s rich cinematography offers the film its only shades of gray), and so it feels like a missed opportunity that Larraín didn’t squeeze more juice from the all-too-relevant fact that deposing a fascist from power isn’t the same as defeating them.
This is another powerful addition to Larraín’s movies about the ongoing agony of Chile, and the Chilean people’s struggle to confront the past, armed with the hammer and the sharpened stake.
The concept behind the film is an amusing, if obvious, one-note gag stretched out to nearly two hours, and not a gag that’s particularly novel or one that offers Larraín much to expand upon. As a would-be political satire and a vampire film, El Conde simply doesn’t have much (sorry, sorry, I know) bite.
Para justificar a associação entre o ditador chileno Augusto Pinochet e a sua "draculização", o filme opta por uma edição rápida de sua biografia, remontando à Revolução Francesa na época da guilhotina, fazendo ótimos jogos de palavras entre um personagem que literalmente "suga" a alma e a riqueza da população, aliás, a ironia dos diálogos persiste ao longo do filme.
Infelizmente o desenvolvimento que é visto em seguida não faz jus ao primor inicial, tornando-se um filme melancólico, muito porque seus filhos não tem personalidade alguma dentro da história, e ao optar por um conjunto de personagens desinteressantes, o roteiro passeia entre eles e sua mulher, o mordomo, e a jornalista, de modo que há um sério problema aqui do propósito que o filme quer mostrar, dos pontos de tensão, prejudicando até mesmo o clímax.
Ainda assim, há um texto ligeiramente afiado, incluso críticas ao imperialismo norte-americano, aos governos liberais, às ditaduras de esquerda, ou mesmo ao cristianismo (essa ganha destaque ao final). Embora as motivações estejam bem explicadas, o número de reviravoltas e o trato como fantoche dos personagens em momentos chaves, quebra toda a tensão até então construída, não passando apenas de um jogo bem elaborado.
Gostei de como inseriram a Margareth Thatcher, o que comprova que o material tem certas limitações em extrapolar seu enredo, vinculando-o a personagens óbvios do imaginário da direita, ao mesmo tempo que é didático e deliciosamente irônico em muitos momentos. Por mais que as resoluções se mostrem frágeis, é interessante ver essa metáfora em tela, e a fotografia em preto e branco ajudou também a dar um ar mais clássico.
Destaque para a cena em que sua "amante" sai voando pela cidade abandonada, ficou linda, mas não perfeita. Com um enredo esquemático, é possível se divertir com certas piadas, mas não é aqui que teremos um entendimento claro dos impactos que ditadores podem ter no mundo, muito menos está longe de ser uma representação confiável de um arquétipo de personalidade, uma vez que o roteiro usa de conveniências comportamentais, como por exemplo, as mudanças de postura do próprio Conde e demais personagens, ponto mais fraco do filme.
Weird, fun, and nicely produced. The problem with El Conde though is that it is all style over substance. The black-and-white cinematography is gorgeous but the narrative never decides if it wants to be all out humorous or horrifyingly shockingly.
'The Count' borns from a satirical concept as promising as seeing Augusto Pinochet as a long-lived and capricious vampire. It has the occasional funny moments, but in general the comedy never quite lands. Furthermore, the critical discourse of power becomes diluted early on, and none of its twists are particularly relevant. In the end, it all feels very superficial. Thankfully, the photography is wonderful.
Buen intento Metacritic, pero no te servirá de nada borrar las reviews negativas, ya que es lo único que se merece esta basura hecha por un cineasta zurdo y resentido cuyo único buen trabajo fue Spencer, lo demás es pura ideología trastornada.