In his still young career, Pablo Larraín has already made a name for himself by re-contextualizing the lives of famous figures throughout history. Though he’s certainly made other notable films, his best known work – Jackie and Spencer – examined specific periods in the lives of people like Jacqueline Kennedy and Princess Diana, while adding in elements of additional genres to make a less straightforward biopic. His latest, El Conde, which translates to “The Count” and hits Netflix on Friday, attempts the same formula but mashes in one too many genres, ultimately failing to measure up to his already high standard.

If you’re a run-of-the-mill American like me, you knew next to nothing about the Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet, who ruled the South American country from 1973-1990. No matter, as Larraín has a little fun with history, as his version of Pinochet, played by Jaime Vadell, is a 250-year old vampire. El Conde is ultimately a lite satire, as Larraín aims to portray a ruthless, evil dictator as an impish old man, motivated by his basest impulses. After a brief history on Pinochet’s origins – he was a loyal French soldier who gained an insatiable bloodlust after witnessing Marie Antoinette’s beheading – the film spends most of its remaining time with him in early retirement in the Chilean countryside.

Why does Pinochet fake his own death and give up his reign of terror when he could simply continue to make his citizens miserable til the end of his days? He’s had a taste of life incognito and is ready to finally die, and ready to make his wife and children, all squabbling adults, penniless and non-vampires. That is, until a French nun named Teresita (Paula Luchsinger) arrives undercover as an auditor, and he falls in love. The best parts of the film are when it becomes a kind of straight-laced riff on Arrested Development, with each of a terrible patriarch’s family members screwing each other over and vying for daddy’s affection (and money).

Though for all its originality, there are long stretches of this nearly two-hour affair that feel interminable. Larraín is far from humorless, and there are unquestionably funny moments in El Conde, but I kept waiting for something truly zany or biting (no pun intended) to happen. Larraín, who wrote the script with Guillermo Calderon, opts for more subtle, deadpan humor; don’t go into El Conde expecting a Don’t Look Up-style farce. Though one smart recurring bit touches on the various types of people whose blood tastes best, and the different subtleties therein. Take out at least one subplot, like the one about his wife (Gloria Munchmeyer) having an affair with his vampiric best friend and butler Fyodor (Alfredo Castro), and the film doesn’t lose much. At least Larraín has retained his eye for visual flair, as the film is brimming with unique set design, and Edward Lachman’s monochromatic cinematography makes the film feel like a throwback Universal monster film.

Regardless of its flaws, El Conde is a movie with a good amount of merits. Performances are solid, if unremarkable, across the board, and Larraín certainly gets points for originality. Larraín has delved deep into the minds of our greatest cultural figures, and Pinochet likely had a more direct impact on Larraín. I choose to see El Conde as a kind of passion project from Larraín, perhaps to exorcise some of his demons or to take back the power he had over Larraín’s home country. But whether Larraín’s film will ultimately be as immortal as his subject matter feels doubtful.

El Conde will be released on Netflix on September 15.

OSCAR POTENTIAL:

• El Conde was passed over by Chile as its submission for International Feature, all but dooming its Oscar hopes. Perhaps, in a crazier year, Edward Lachman’s cinematography could sneak its way into a nomination, but with heavy hitters like Rodrigo Prieto and Hoyte van Hoytema already virtual locks for nominations, the chances are slim.