On 11th September 1973, the Chilean Army’s Commander-in-Chief Augusto Pinochet seized political power from the President Salvador Allende in a coup d’état,‘ liberating’ the country from the world’s first democratically-elected Marxist leader. After Allende’s success in November 1970, the CIA (under instruction from Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger) spent $8 million to create the greatest conditions possible for an intervention to prevent “another Cuba”, but remained adamant that they had no direct involvement within the coup itself. Rising through the military ranks from the age of 17, Pinochet had only been Chief for three weeks before toppling Allende and forming a junta, with his first course of action to ban all left-leaning political parties. USA continued to fund the new regime despite publicly criticising it, aiding the junta whilst they kidnapped, tortured and killed roughly 13,000 citizens who politically opposed them.
Estimates predict over a million Chileans fled the country in the seventies, the majority remaining displaced despite Pinochet’s death in 2006. Director Patricio Guzmán was one of them, relocating to France where he continued making films highlighting Chile’s politics. Over 40 years later, Guzmán returned to his birthplace of Santiago, cataloguing the journey in his 2019 documentary The Cordillera of Dreams. Derived from the Spanish ‘cuerda’ meaning ‘rope’, Cordillera translates literally as mountain range, which in this case refers to the Andes. At 8,900 kilometres wide and an average height of 4,000 metres, the range can be seen almost everywhere in the capital city. This presents the opportunity for cinematographer Samuel Lahu to capture the picturesque landscape from several angles. Diversifying between drone shots for a top-down view, extreme zoom-ins on the mountains’ surface, and acting as a backdrop on the busy streets means we can truly appreciate this natural colossus.
Thematically, Guzmán uses the Andes to represent change or the lack thereof. From one perspective, they exude a calming presence of home. The recurring commentary from various interviewees throughout the film suggests that the residents feel protected by the mountainous border on one side and the Pacific Ocean on the other. This seclusion created a culture of community with a unique identity, despite being so densely populated (eight of the total nineteen million people of Chile live in Santiago). It’s a cause for inspiration, shown via several art pieces such as paintings and sculptures created during the film. No matter the changes within the society, leaving to another society, or even the human cycle of life, the Andes are an ever-present entity.
However, what comes alongside this constant existence are the painful memories of what Guzmán endured in Pinochet’s reign. The director uses metaphors of how the mountains have absorbed the country’s collective trauma, and how the blood of innocents paves Santiago’s streets. Using past footage filmed by Pablo Salas, a cinematographer who stayed to ensure the dictator’s deeds would be documented, we see first-hand the police brutality against swarms of peaceful protesters. Whilst governments have changed since, the instilled neoliberalist mentality has not, leading Salas to conclude that Pinochet had won. The identity Santiago cultivated has changed, and Guzmán no longer recognises it. Apart from the Cordillera.
Altogether, The Cordillera of Dreams is an informative piece on a country whose story must not be forgotten, whilst articulating the complex emotions involving one’s home and those who control it.