El Conde 2023

In the ending of El Conde, the satire layers don a bizarre yet thought-provoking picture of Augusto Pinochet’s supernatural afterlife. As the story approaches its climax, Carmencita, the exorcist, attempts to rid Augusto of his vampiric curse, believing that doing so will allow him to finally die peacefully. Throughout the film, Augusto’s relationships reveal his lingering influence—particularly his obsession with Carmencita, who he desires romantically, while his children and followers are depicted as greedy and morally corrupt, living off his legacy. When Carmencita starts the exorcism, Augusto’s true nature as a vampire comes to the surface, and he quickly turns her into a vampire herself, symbolizing how even those fighting against evil can be seduced by it.

The story then twists into a surreal reimagining, where Margaret Thatcher is revealed as Augusto’s vampire mother—a satirical jab on political allegiances and historical figures. As Augusto’s children plot to kill Carmencita, Fyodor, the vampire butler, finally bites Lucia—their shared former servant—and she becomes a vampire as well, aligning herself with Augusto’s dark world. Meanwhile, Augusto and Margaret drink vampire blood to regain youthful strength, turning back into younger versions of themselves and immersing in their insidious legacy. Augusto’s transformation into a teenage boy and his return to violence—once again targeting leftists in a school—suggests a cyclical return of fascism and violence, warning that these forces can resurface if they are not confronted.

In the final moments, Augusto kills Lucia and Fyodor, eliminating those who might threaten his power or betray him. Carmencita, having failed to exorcise the vampire, is killed by the family, symbolizing how the corrupting influence of fascism and greed ultimately crush those who oppose it. The film concludes with Augusto and Margaret turning into younger vampires and attempting to re-enter the political arena, subtly hinting that the cycle of tyranny and repression is never truly over. Overall, El Conde uses supernatural satire and absurd humor to critique the legacy of dictatorship, the cyclical nature of fascism, and how history’s darkest figures can persist in new forms if we do not actively resist them. It’s a surreal, darkly humorous reflection on power, corruption, and the enduring shadow of authoritarianism.

In a shadow‑streaked version of modern Chile, the film folds together gothic horror and razor‑sharp satire, bathing the streets in a perpetual twilight where the absurd collides with the oppressive. The world feels both familiar and off‑kilter: historic monuments loom like silent witnesses, while the whisper of ancient bloodlines and political legacies threads through every dimly lit hallway. Dark humor pulses beneath the surface, inviting the audience to laugh while they squirm, as the narrative teases the intersection of supernatural immortality and the lingering echo of a nation’s darkest chapters.

At the centre of this uneasy tableau is Augusto Pinochet, a 250‑year‑old vampire whose very existence is a living relic of a brutal past he can no longer escape. Once a figure of absolute authority, he now stumbles through a restless eternity, haunted by the weight of his former deeds and tormented by an unexpected craving for redemption rather than blood. His private world is populated by Lucia, his long‑standing companion whose presence grounds him in fleeting moments of tenderness, and Fyodor, a loyal butler whose own transformation mirrors the twisted loyalty that binds them all. Their interactions flicker between weary familiarity and the tense undercurrents of unspoken histories.

The arrival of a charismatic nun, Carmen, upends the fragile equilibrium. Her poise and fluency in the language of the old world act as a catalyst, stirring a rebellious spark that challenges the Count’s stoic resolve. Their tentative alliance hints at a partnership forged in intrigue, where ideology and desire intersect, and where the promise of a new purpose begins to surface from the shadows of the past.

Through its lush cinematography and a tone that swings deftly between grim dread and sardonic comedy, the film beckons viewers to contemplate the cost of power and the possibility of change, even for those who have walked the earth for centuries. The story lingers on the question of whether an immortal can truly rewrite the script of its own legacy, leaving the audience poised on the edge of anticipation.