On December 10, 2006, Augusto Pinochet (Jaime Vadell) died at the age of 91; 33 years after his violent assertion to the presidency of Chile and 25 years after his regime lost the plebiscite vote ushering in the end of his rule. But what if he did not die and instead went into hiding? Not for political or military reasons, but because he is a centuries-old vampire who is unable to die but weary of life. What would happen to Lucia (Gloria Münchmeyer), his mortal wife whom he will need to leave behind? His estate? His five children? To help settle his affairs, he brings in Carmencita (Paula Luchsinger), a young nun with a knack for numbers, but she has her own reasons to visit “the count” with the motive to eliminate him on behalf of the church. 

Pablo Larraín returns to the well of rightful criticism against Augusto Pinochet, grappling with all of the horrendous acts his regime was responsible for in the lead-up and his rule over Chile, this time through the lens of dark comedy.  El Conde, a 110-minute black-and-white shot satire, co-written with Guillermo Calderón, premiered at the Venice Film Festival almost simultaneously with its release on Netflix only 2 weeks later. Elegantly shot by Edward Lachman, the film retains the same affinity for luster that Larraín loves to bring to the muddier aspects of our history, and while he dresses these dark moments and characters in luxury, he does not let this collection of riches absolve them from the harm they have done. 

The metaphor at the center of El Conde, that Pinochet is a blood-sucking vampire, is quite brilliant and works incredibly well. Unfortunately, though, once it is deployed, Larraín seems to have little else to say or introspect on and the film would work better as a short or it would need to be expanded on. He picks and scratches at a few threads across the narrative setup like the reading of a will, yet the deceased is still in the room. It is an absurd concept rife for comedy that is not fully expanded upon, but it is still searing in its view on the incompetence of power, especially as it views Pinochet’s would-be heirs. Larraín frames his five children – who may or may not be named over the course of the film – as entitled brats who have done nothing with their lives except live under the Pinochet name. They are all hungry for their slice of the pie, and as they quibble and argue amongst themselves about an inheritance that may or may not even exist, Larraín does bring up a second observation that the only thing more parasitic on a society than its leaders are the children of those leaders. 

Of this cast of clowns, besides Pinochet and excluding Carmencita who is there for her own reasons, there are two that are the most intriguing of the bunch: Lucia and Fyodor (Alfredo Castro), who acts as Pinochet’s familiar harvesting hearts for the aged vampire. There is a twinge of jealousy at work here as Pinochet has bitten Fyodor to turn him, but refuses to do the same for his wife. Lucia, with the hazy support of facts, takes on a bit of a Lady Macbeth role here as they recount Pinochet’s violent rise to power and she takes claim for sowing the seed in her husband’s mind and prompting him to take action, but the film also posits that from before the time that Pinochet licked clean the guillotine the separated Marie Antionette’s head from her body, he wanted to be the bully of the play yard and find some land that he could rule over as king to ensure audiences do not become sympathetic towards this monster. Not much is really done with these two characters, but they do give audiences someone else to latch on to as they are the ones that have the most meaningful relationship with Pinochet while Carmencita busies herself interviewing the children allowing them to confidently display their incredible incompetence. 

It is hard to really define a traditional narrative structure in El Conde, rather it is an extended tear-down of Pinochet, but Larraín does have a surprise in store for audiences that stick with the film. Throughout the duration, El Conde is framed by narration by the gentle voice of a British female who is ultimately revealed to be Pinochet’s mother in this fantasy, Margaret Thatcher (Stella Gonet). It is a wild revelation but a fitting one that Larraín, after he has been treating the leader’s marred legacy with such casual and juvenile dismissiveness, delivers the final blow that this perceived tough guy is really a sniveling little mommy’s boy. Her inclusion does open the world of the film up in an unexpected way, and without sounding too “red pill” about it, it highlights this network of evil and corruption in the power structures across the world and across generations. El Conde would have benefited by opening up even more and lampooning the entire cabal of terrible leaders, but as it stands there are still plenty of universal themes that audiences across the globe can relate to even with just passing knowledge of Pinochet’s atrocities. 

El Conde is a belittling satire in its absurdity that works far better than it should, but it is more interesting than entertaining.  It is a dark film, but not one devoid of humor as it shows Pinochet dressing up in his military uniform and standing in the halls of the Palacio de La Moneda where his bust should be. Conceived from a great concept, Larraín does well in making sure the true evil this man enacted across Chile is never diminished; even by wrapping it up in fantasy the film never tries to lessen the severity of his corruption. The film just does not go far enough or deep enough to really leave a lasting impact. It hints at a more global mindset, but Larraín keeps his focus on Pinochet and Chile for the run time – understandably so – but this singular entry point is not enough to support the entire film.