Pablo Larraín: A Cinematic Exploration of Monsters, Memories, and Dictatorship

By Daniel Andrés Ruiz Sierra (@TatoRuiz)

Pablo Larraín's cinema has always relied on narrating the monster; the monster of obsession, of power misused, the deepest and most personal fears, and, of course, the monster of dictatorship, which is a very large one and continues to awaken various sensitivities.

It is on this theme that Larraín has built his filmography, not solely focusing on denunciation or anecdote. The director has managed to convey all of the above through melodrama, employing farce, black comedy, the plastic, and the subversive, as well as collective and individual memories, or rather, personal memories, even for his fictional characters. It is this authorial individuality that makes him one of the most authentic and suggestive directors (also a screenwriter and producer) in Latin America.

Today we talk about Pablo Larraín, in light of the international recognition he is receiving from the Huesca Film Festival, which will award him the Carlos Saura City of Huesca Award, while showcasing one of his latest films, "Spencer," starring Kristen Stewart as Diana, Princess of Wales, at the moment she decided to end her marriage to the current King of the United Kingdom.

The prize, which has been awarded since 1991, recognizes the remarkable professional trajectory of young figures in the film world who also project a promising career. In Larraín's case, perhaps his projection had been evident for a long time. Maybe it started with his first film, "Fuga," a large-scale production that, for a newcomer, in a region where making films is, to say the least, quite a quixotic endeavor, was viewed with skepticism. Larraín's debut film was not only ambitious in terms of its narrative, but it also had a cast that included names from the Chilean jet set, an international protagonist, and a budget that exceeded one million dollars at the time.

Pablo Larraín Matte was born in 1976 into a privileged family in Santiago, Chile. His father is Hernán Larraín, a conservative Chilean politician, former president of the Senate, and former Minister of Justice in the second government of President Piñera (yes, the same government during which the social outbreak erupted). His mother, Magdalena Matte, was Minister of Housing and Urbanism in Piñera's first government. Both (father and mother) are members of a Pinochetist political party. This provides context and perhaps a brief explanation of the discomfort that the debutant filmmaker caused within the national film industry when his first film was released, but above all, with his subsequent trilogy composed of "Tony Manero," "Post Mortem," and "No," films that are key in the contemporary history of cinema in his country. Apart from documentaries, Larraín has been one of the few directors to address dictatorship and post-dictatorship in the realm of fiction.

In "Fuga" (2006), Larraín tackles the story of two men obsessed in different eras. Specifically, it narrates the pursuit of a mediocre musician (Gastón Pauls) towards one who seems more talented but is schizophrenic (Benjamín Vicuña), in order to reconstruct the rhapsody whose sheet music is missing. With this film, Larraín received very negative reviews in Chile and Argentina, the latter being a co-production partner. As mentioned before, the film had an enormous budget, and the team had the privilege of two months of shooting in 30 locations and 50 sets, including the cities of Valparaíso and Santiago. Notably, the film featured the highly talked-about presence of the Municipal Theater of Santiago, a space that is likely not easy or affordable to obtain. The harsh criticism at the time was compounded by that of Maite Alberdi, who was also a newcomer experimenting with short films and apparently serving as a critic for the digital film magazine lafuga.cl.

The director, whose most recent documentary "La memoria infinita" (2023) was produced precisely by the Larraín brothers (founders of the renowned production company Fábula), stated at that time that "Fuga" was "out of context, an excessive and grandiose chord among young Chilean filmmakers at this moment." The director compared the ostentatious debut film of her future producer with what other directors like Matías Bize ("En la cama"), Alberto Fuguet ("Se arrienda"), or Sebastián Lelio ("La sagrada familia") were doing at that time. These directors opted for a less spectacular cinema in terms of visual approach, leveraging the limited resources they had to enhance their storytelling in an authentic manner. Alberdi also wrote, "It should be about artistic processes, but creativity is never discussed. Everything is given, and aesthetic theories are set aside to present two musicians who only care about advancing the plot. And the intricacy that it could have – given its apparent theme – fades away since we never get to know the true nature of these artists."

However, despite the national criticism that targeted Larraín's work (and the privilege he enjoyed), fortunately, it did not deter him. After "Fuga," which was recognized as the Best First Feature at the 47th edition of the Cartagena International Film Festival, came "Tony Manero," a film that participated in festivals such as Torino and Havana. In this film, Larraín collaborated again with Alfredo Castro, this time as the lead actor (in "Fuga," Castro had a supporting role), portraying a man obsessed with the character John Travolta played in "Saturday Night Fever." With "Tony Manero," Larraín inaugurated his famous memory trilogy, and as a result, he received more criticism, but this time not for narrative pretentiousness or the resources used to make the film, but for his social and economic position. It was his privileged background.

Compared to most representatives of the Chilean artistic scene, whose realities included resisting dictatorship or experiencing arrests, assassinations, or exile, Larraín was seen as an intruder or opportunist. "They said I was selling Chilean history and profiting from our painful past," said Pablo Larraín in an interview with "The Economist" regarding the worldwide premiere of his 2019 film, "Ema."

For those who were part of the artistic and cinematic scene in the southern country, what Larraín was doing was cultural appropriation. "I represent that privilege, that class, that ideology (...) they (opponents of the regime) thought that someone from my background would never believe what I think. They thought my ideas were false or irrelevant," Larraín also said to the journalist from "The Economist," a profile that titled itself questioning whether he (Larraín) was the ideal person to tell the stories of that dark Chile.

Returning to strictly cinematic matters and what each of those films in the trilogy conveys, there is a new, unprecedented, and unique perspective in all of them. It is what "had not been seen," what probably happened behind closed doors in any household in the country. In other words, there are stories that transcend the portrayed memory, the collective and known memory that Chileans could only glimpse during and after the dictatorship.

In "Tony Manero" and "Post Mortem" – especially in these two – there is an interest in reflecting on more inward lives, on what the military coup and subsequent dictatorship fractured in ordinary citizens and how the violence unfolding in Chile captured them to the extent that they end up being both perpetrators and victims. It is violence upon violence, an unstoppable whirlwind that manifests in "Tony Manero" through a man with dreams of recognition.

In "Post Mortem," that manifestation appears in a man who works as an assistant in a morgue where the body of Salvador Allende arrives. On the other hand, in "No," there is a more visual (and pop) representation of something much closer, specific, and visible: the national plebiscite campaign in '88 that sought to overthrow the regime and ultimately succeeded.

All three films contain a great deal of truth, extensive research, and also a lot of artifice presented through storylines that focus on narratives of couples and love relationships that are not particularly hopeful. This is something that Larraín's detractors use as an argument to try to minimize the importance of these cinematic works, which have become icons when discussing the social and political conflict of the country, memory, truth, and what can be articulated and denounced through the film industry and contemporary fiction. With the promotion of "No," perhaps the most popular of the three (it was nominated for Best Foreign Language Film at the 85th Academy Awards in 2012), a journalist from a left-wing magazine claimed that it was a whitewashing of the past for an international audience, turning Larraín into "a political puppet."

The Oscar nomination would then be the gateway to other opportunities outside his country. In addition to the subsequent films "El Club" (2015) and "Neruda" (2016) (a somewhat inaccurate but undeniably original and stimulating biography), Larraín captivated producers and international audiences with "Jackie" (2016), a revision of the hours following Jacqueline Kennedy becoming a widow. It is a work that exudes elegance and narrative efficiency but presents itself with a slight coldness compared to the director's more personal works of the past. It is a film that feels distant and 'handled,' impeccable in its packaging and perhaps even politically correct. This feeling of being a cold and impersonal work (in other words, it shows that it was a commissioned project) also applies to the most recent revision of Lady Di's private life.

In addition to these two, Larraín also directed the Apple TV miniseries "Lisey's Story" (2021), starring Julianne Moore and Clive Owen, based on the eponymous work by the ever-adaptable Stephen King. And in the midst of all that international involvement that seemed to have calmed the waters among his 'Chilean' detractors, Larraín ventured to tell a story with reggaeton and a cast mostly unfamiliar to the generation he used to portray. A queer film, a sort of "premonition." With "Ema" (2019), starring Mariana di Girolamo and Gael García Bernal (once again), he departs from the past to depict the present through the lens of the transformation of the family unit in the "new" Chilean society and, unintentionally, offers a (false) vision of a turbulent future in Chile. The film, which is incendiary, somewhat extremist, and fiercely feminist, was shot in Valparaíso during the second half of 2018 and premiered worldwide in 2019 at the Venice International Film Festival (August).

In October of that same year, the social unrest erupted in Chile, which included, as in the film, fires and riots in Valparaíso. Just like in the movie, there was also a feminist uprising that continues to leave no one indifferent, with the protagonism and leadership of a generation born and educated in the new century that expresses itself without compromises. No room for lukewarmness, we could say in Colombia. "In our culture, certain signs were noticed, although in no way did I see it coming. I didn't have the premonition. Just like the rest of Chile, I woke up that day. There may be connections from the film, in its way of addressing society with elements like fire, but that's because this generation is like that. Chile collectively moved, and I can't claim anything," the director responded to El País newspaper, regarding questions about premonition. In the same interview, he also pointed out that he "only understands cinema as a fireball."

Perhaps the one who was born with a silver spoon, with privileges foreign to the average Chilean, will once again awaken bitterness and criticism in his own country. Alongside Netflix, he is preparing his next film, which will likely be released this year, in commemoration of the 50 years since that September 11, 1973, when conservatives, "military personnel," and people frightened by the socialist government found it easy to bow to a dictatorship that lasted for almost 17 years. The new film is titled "El Conde," a dark comedy with historical elements revolving around the dictator, transformed into a 250-year-old vampire. The controversy it will generate is inevitable! Personally, I can't wait to watch it. We will wait and see what unfolds with that authentic fireball.

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