(Chile/USA, 110 min.)
Dir. Pablo Larrain, Writ. Pedro Peirano
Starring: Gael García Bernal,
Alfredo
Castro, Antónia Zegers.
♫♪Chile: Happiness is coming! ♪♫♫♪Chile: Happiness is coming! ♪♫♫♪Chile: Happiness is coming! ♪♫
You’ll have the jingle from No in your head for days after seeing the film. It’s no wonder that
the story of the campaign it dramatizes was a victory that led Chile to
freedom. No is an easy checkmark on
the list of films to see this year.
Each side has fifteen minutes of airtime over twenty-seven
days to win the referendum. René shrewdly looks at the situation and assess it
much as one sells a pack of Lucky Strikes. It’s not so much the physical
product that an ad-man needs to sell, but the philosophy the product
represents. René, much to the chagrin of his colleagues, decides that the key
to the NO campaign will not be an end to the misery wrought by Pinochet’s
dictatorship. Instead, a vote for NO is a vote for the beginning of happiness.
Hence the catchy jingle “Chile: Happiness is coming!”
The NO campaign quickly catches the spirit of the Chilean
people. It’s their campaign, their stories, and their lives. René’s sparkly,
catchy ads prove that the message of a positive campaign trumps that of a
negative campaign. Hope, progress, and change are more compelling than fear-mongering
and mud-slinging. (Usually.)
The NO campaign taps into the heart of social divides.
Intentional or not, the rainbow-clad ads are a feat of subliminal advertising. As
the rich sit idly by and promise more of the same, the growing dissatisfaction
among the common people surges in a collective impulse to see the needs of the
majority trump the wants of few. The promise of Chile’s future, which builds
momentum throughout the campaign, entertains ample resonance with current
political movements.
Director Pablo Larrain masterfully dramatizes the campaign
by capturing the story through the same lenses that shot the original ads.
Shooting on arcane analog video camera (ie: the kind of crappy things on which
your parents shot your first birthday party), Larrain and cinematographer
Sergio Armstrong recreate the campaign in the same square 4:3 aspect ratio of
the ads that brought about Chile’s reform. The effect of the video blurs
archival footage and dramatic re-enactment. The effect is seamless, as it’s
virtually impossible to separate which parts of the film are past and which are
present. No feels historical and
current because the account looks wholly authentic.
The antiquated video, however, doesn’t lend itself well to
the big screen. Video, simply put, looks cheap and ugly. It doesn’t capture the
light nicely and it lacks definition. Moreover, it creates a dizzying motion
blur that might nauseate viewers sitting too close to the screen. As my own
placement in the screening room can attest, ye best stake a spot near the back
in order to appreciate No to its full
potential. Alternatively, this film might best be enjoyed on DVD and the small
screen of a home theatre, preferably on a standard TV where high definition
doesn’t betray the shrewd style.
Still, the aesthetic of No
adds a striking dynamic of formalist reality. It puts the viewers in the thick
of the campaign while also letting them observe at a distance. The sparseness
of the style likewise lends itself to minimalist traditions of Latin American
cinema, so No honours its origins
right down to the materials on which it is shot. No, inspiring and innovative, is a film of the people for the
people. This riveting political thriller sells an old story anew for the
contemporary current of revolution.
Rating: ★★★★ (out of ★★★★★)
No is currently playing in Toronto at the Varsity.
