El Conde (2023) Horror Movie Review

Narrated in an almost fairytale-like English voiceover, the film follows Pinochet's malevolent adventures under a different name, spanning from the years before the French Revolution to various historical events worldwide. Always aligning with oppressive elites and thwarting left-leaning movements, Pinochet not only satisfies his thirst for blood but also indulges in his fondness for fascism, collecting morbid relics from his travels.

The film's isolated lair, crafted by production designer Rodrigo Bazaes, exudes an authentic, lived-in feel with a collection of relics that seem to have weathered the ages. Cinematographer Edward Lachman adds to the allure with stark black-and-white images, capturing striking moments like a shadowy figure in military regalia taking flight over a seaside city.

Pinochet, possibly the flying killer himself, turns still-beating organs into a pulp using powerful blenders, comically undercutting his mythical magnetism. The gruesome feeding process, beautifully silhouetted, becomes shockingly mundane, resembling an office worker chugging a protein shake in the morning.

As news of Pinochet's horrifying hunt makes headlines, his middle-aged children, a group of greedy yet listless individuals, become alarmed. Desperate to maintain their comfortable lifestyles, they visit Dad's secret home to uncover his finances and future plans. Larraín and co-writer Guillermo Calderón play up the family's idiotic squabbles and self-serving concerns, delivering some of the script's most acerbic and laugh-out-loud lines.

Jaime Vadell, a regular in director Pablo Larraín's films, portrays the blood-drinking Pinochet with a charming obliviousness, almost as if he's unaware of his own villainous deeds. Fed up after being labeled a thief, Pinochet doesn't desire to live anymore. On the other hand, Fyodor (played by Alfredo Castro), the general's most loyal sidekick, expresses a disturbing admiration for the former leader's atrocious acts. Castro's versatility shines through, making him a scene-stealer whether beheading enemies or reluctantly carrying luggage.

Larraín uses gallows humor and grotesque elements to strip the old murderer of any sanctimonious virtue. While impunity remains a harsh reality, there's a morbid satisfaction in watching a fictionalized Pinochet realize that history will forever shame him. Despite his irrelevance in a decrepit body, he still acts like a winner, refusing to admit taking lives but vehemently denying theft accusations.

To untangle the mess, Carmen (played by Paula Luchsinger Escobar), a young nun, confidentially assists the family in assessing their assets. Carmen's quirky enthusiasm in learning abhorrent details sparks a marital dispute and a romantic entanglement with Pinochet. A shot of the nun levitating, reminiscent of Dreyer's "The Passion of Joan of Arc," adds a touch of deviant sensuality.

In contrast to Larraín's previous films like "Jackie" and "Spencer," where he humanized emblematic women, "El Conde" aims to depict the dictator as a pathetic parasite driven by self-preservation. The film draws parallels to Larraín's earlier work "The Club," addressing seclusion and transgressions of Catholic priests. While criticizing the Church's collaboration with perpetrators, "El Conde" leans towards a farcical tone rather than a meditative exploration of its sociopolitical and historical roots.

This wickedly funny, blood-soaked portrayal of a decaying tyrant coincides with the 50th anniversary of Pinochet's coup against President Allende. Larraín doesn't offer false hopes of eradicating ideologies but instead warns that evil transforms to poison new minds, persisting through time.