Democracy will soon once again flex its muscles in Latin America. Chilean President Gabriel Boric’s time in office is almost over due to limits on consecutive terms, and recent polling shows the top two candidates to replace him are the left-wing coalition candidate Jeannette Jara, a longtime communist, and José Antonio Kast, a right-wing hardliner making his third bid for the seat and whose father was a literal Nazi who fled Germany after World War II. (While most sensible people agree the sins of the father are not those of the son, this is quite the factoid to have on your Wikipedia page.)
With neighboring Argentina’s President Javier Milei bailed out by Donald Trump as the United States continues to blow up boats of Venezuelan citizens, a shift in power in the region could make for one of the more substantial elections in Chile’s recent history. The time is ripe, therefore, for a look at Pablo Larraín’s outstanding recent(ish) movie No, which examined the inner workings of the country’s unusual transition back into democratic governance that began with the 1988 presidential referendum vote—a vote in which the people essentially voted on whether or not they should vote.
A man simulates to cast a vote in a ballot box used in the 1988 plebiscite in Santiago on Oct. 5, 2018.Martin Bernetti/AFP via Getty Images
Fifteen years after his 1973 military coup against the democratically elected socialist Salvador Allende, General Augusto Pinochet was facing increased international pressure. (Though it may betray my childhood naiveté, I first learned about the disappearances of Chilean political dissidents from the song “They Dance Alone (Cueca Solo)” by Sting; considering it was a different Sting song from the period that introduced J. Robert Oppenheimer to young Christopher Nolan, I don’t feel so bad.) To appease his critics, the film implies, Pinochet decided to call for a simple up-and-down vote in 1998, though such a move was written in the constitution in 1981. If you want to keep Chile the way it is (economically stable!), vote “sí.” If you’d like to see the faction who detained and tortured an estimated 40,000 people out of power, vote “no.” Each side was allowed 15 minutes of free non-prime television time over the course of 27 days to plead their case. Of course, these 15 minutes were the only departures from official state positioning allowed in mass media—which, the movie shows, turned out to be more than enough.
No is a film that takes a little extra effort to search for on the internet thanks to its rather blunt title, but it’s certainly worth it. While the 2012 release—the first Chilean movie nominated for the best foreign language Oscar—details the last days of Pinochet’s military dictatorship, he isn’t on screen, except for in archival footage. Instead, our (initially reluctant) hero is René Saavedra (Gael García Bernal), a composite character meant to represent the real marketing folks who convinced a nation to stand up to their own fears—or their apathy or their disbelief—and discontinue Chile’s military dictatorship. The democratic overthrow was fueled not by marches or Molotov cocktails, but by the power of satire and sexy television commercials. The Saaverdra character and his colleagues sold the nation on progress as a brand.
Indeed, the first scene of the movie shows Bernal’s Saavedra in a pitch meeting straight out of Mad Men, hoping to hook a client by explaining that the people of Chile are ready for change. The punchline is that he’s selling them his concept for a soft drink called (no joke) Free. A visit from an old chum, however, begins his slow initiation into leading the campaign to oust Pinochet. While Saavedra seems at first to be living a happy, bourgeois lifestyle—showing off his new microwave to his son—we learn that his out-of-the-picture wife (and possibly his father) were committed leftists who suffered under Pinochet’s harsh rule.
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Whether it’s a genuine desire to change Chilean society or just the love of the advertising game, Saavedra takes up the cause. At the beginning, he’s informed that Pinochet’s team is so confident that they’ll win they aren’t even bothering to cheat. The truth of that little tidbit is difficult to determine, but it does make for a very amusing story contour.
Before he can convince the populace to reject Pinochet, though, he’s got to get the diverse collection of opposition groups to approve his messaging. Anyone who has tried to figure out toppings on a pizza order for a set of strong-willed individuals knows that negotiations can sometimes be brutal, and that’s especially the case for left-wing groups still mourning fallen, tortured, or disappeared comrades. It is understandable, then, when some find Saavedra’s sunny, Hollywood-like approach to be glib and inappropriate.
But this is his (and No’s) genius. Anger and retribution can only go so far. The lure of “happiness” (a familiar political term thanks to our friend Thomas Jefferson) proves the winning formula, and once everyone is on board, No turns into a scrappy “putting on a show” type movie. It’s like Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland are savin’ the family farm, and that farm is human rights in Chile.
The bulk of the picture shows Saavedra and his ragtag team romping around with movie cameras, capturing imagery that can be worked into his music-video-style television packages. It’s one whiz bang example after another of watching the ends justify the means. The “no” vote is meant to appeal to common people struggling with poverty, so the advertisers dazzle them with elaborate, bountiful picnics. Some in the coalition argue that the arpilleristas—the grieving mothers, daughters, and wives who performed symbolic solo dances (see Sting’s protest song referenced above) must be represented. But how will this flow with a montage of prurient comedy bits and MTV-ready lithe young things cavorting on the beach?
Meanwhile Saavedra, who skateboards to and from the office (Larraín perhaps cribbing a bit from the Jesse Eisenberg’s super-casual Mark Zuckerberg vibe in The Social Network), still has his day job—where his boss has been recruited by Team Sí once the opposition’s programming starts to catch on. Soon the filmmaking crew finds themselves being followed, with threats being made to their families.
Gael García Bernal as René Saavedra in No.Sergio Armstrong via Filmgrab
No was Pablo Larraín’s fourth feature length film and preceded several well-received titles based on the lives of notable people during clutch moments in their lives. Neruda came out in 2016, and focused on the Chilean writer Pablo Neruda’s decision to flee the country during a political suppression of communists in 1948. That same year, Natalie Portman starred as Jacqueline Kennedy in Larraín’s Jackie, which detailed how she essentially “produced” her husband’s state funeral. Continuing the trend was Kristen Stewart as Princess Diana deciding whether or not to leave Prince Charles in 2021’s Spencer, and Angelina Jolie as opera diva Maria Callas during the last week of her life in 2024’s Maria. One can consider No part of this greater corpus if you interpret “the voters” approaching the polls as the ultimate protagonist of the film.
While no actor puts on a uniform to pose as Augusto Pinochet in No, Larraín did get around to putting words (and much more) in the late dictator’s mouth with 2023’s El Conde, a marvelously funny and (intentionally) vile movie that presents the Chilean general as a vampire. Shot in high contrast black and white, Pinochet as we know him is revealed to be hundreds of years old and a counter-revolutionary on the wrong side of history for several world conflicts. There are numerous scenes in which he engorges himself on human organs and a midway twist introduces an undead Margaret Thatcher. Larraín deployed the legendary American director of photography Edward Lachman to capture the outrageous imagery, resulting in a cinematography Oscar nomination.
Oddly enough, the one artistic choice in No that bugged me back in 2012 and again so upon revisiting was Larraín’s decision to shoot cheap-looking, late 1980s-style video. This was a bold stylistic decision—perhaps so he could seamlessly interweave period footage and actual No clips. Either way, it’s a distancing technique you should be aware of when you stream the movie. “Do not adjust your television set,” as they say, but do be properly informed before making your decision. The odd look of No, however, ought not to be enough to keep you from choosing sí with your remote control.