Acclaimed as a surrealist masterpiece, Un Chien andalou aggressively
disconnects itself from narrative flow. The creators of this short film. Luis
Buñuel and Salvador Dal? fully intended there to be no links between successive
scenes. Fortunately this didn't inhibit their dreaming up of some of the most
striking moments ever to be projected upon the silver screen. The opening
focuses on a man (Luis Buñuel) stropping his cut-throat razor, honing it to a
perfect edge. Stepping onto the balcony, he gazes at the moon. This celestial
orb is instantly replaced with a woman and, enlarging rapidly, her left eye. The
bare blade then descends on her unprotected pupil, a graphic incident.
Designed to shock, which it still does almost 70 years later, quick editing
removes the image before it has time to fully sink in. Suddenly the viewer is
faced with a nun-like figure weaving uncertainly down the road on a bicycle.
There is no bridge to the previous horror, although this mysterious person does
provide a number of objects which resurface at odd intervals. Later there is the
unusual sight of a man (Robert Hommet) hauling two grand pianos, each stuffed
with the putrefying remains of a donkey, as he trudges towards a cowering woman
(Simone Mareuil). He is also unfortunate enough to have a hole in his hand,
where the ants live. None of this is significant.
A marvellous aspect of something as wilfully bizarre as
Un Chien
andalou is that almost any interpretation can be drawn from the images
shown. Perhaps every single scene is random and unconcerned with any other,
although Buñuel certainly seems to have included items which are present
throughout the film. In some ways the repeated glimpses of these things in
situations where they shouldn't be adds to the confused feel, enhanced by the
off-putting and nonsensical time-markers deployed.
The eternal themes of life, death, lust and love are thrown up at various
points, although there is no framework on which to attach these emotions. This
is of no consequence though as Buñuel has already hurried onto the next sequence,
violently cutting so that the desired woman becomes naked in a flash - a picture
of what are ardent suitor really sees. Un Chien andalou does not require
such deep analysis though, being much more a film which should be purely
experienced. It achieves that which Buñuel and Dal?aimed for and, with a live
music accompaniment, is unstoppable.
From www.film.u-net.com
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