Of the three in Pablo Larraín’s unofficial trilogy surrounding the rise and fall of Augusto Pinochet, No is without a doubt my favorite. Given where we started in Tony Manero, that might not be saying much.
No manages to solve all the criticisms I had leading up to it: that the director paid too much attention to the political narrative around the corner, not enough on what was right in front of us; that he chose stories that hooked us but told them through the wrong protagonist; that his protagonists were simply too grotesque and simultaneously uncharismatic to allow us easy entrance to the most important elements of the narrative. While Post Mortem certainly offered more to think about, neither of the first two films were approachable.
No follows the work of René Saavedra (Bernal) as he agrees to take on the promotion of the anti-Pinochet referendum in 1988. Bernal’s facial micro-expressions carry the weight here, leading us through both the story of his political and professional allegiances and the complexities of his broken family.
Alfredo Castro is back as Lucho Guzmán, René’s partner and boss. I feel so much better equipped to connect with his performance here coming off his roles in the prior two films. His characters were, after all, the reason I had so much trouble with them. Here, he plays a vastly more world-wise and charismatic person, his political allegiances visible for once, his relationships with René shifting unpredictably between friend, partner, and adversary.
The first two films were particularly interesting observations of the influence of American culture on Chile. The first, a celebration of American disco brass thanks to Saturday Night Fever. The second, more of a critique of American political weight thanks to the unspoken force of the CIA in the overthrow of Allende’s rule. Here, we’re offered a view of perhaps the most vapid of the three influences: the role of American advertising imagery and its ability to drive action through emotional influence. It’s sad, this connection; insofar as the story ends on a high note regarding the transition of political power, hollow American-inspired cultural imagery spreads like a weed in the cracks of this new Chile.
Larraín does something clever with archival footage. Watch closely as behind the scenes transitions to broadcast in what appears to be a switch from actors to archival footage of the period. The move highlights the dark comedy of the time, in spite of the actual darkness.
The problem? It’s a tough film to watch, literally. The treatment of the final image is so heavily manipulated to match the 3/4" broadcast tape source to align with the period that fringing, flares, and noise make it difficult to keep my eyes on the screen in places. The visual fidelity to the period is a noble cause but ultimately one that proves to be a distraction.
I admit it, I’m a sucker for movies about spin. For me, No belongs in the company of Wag the Dog, Speechless, and Argo. No, it’s not romantic or overtly funny, but it’s smart, structurally clever, and unlike the films that came before it, entertaining.