Un Chien andalou. 1929. Directed by Luis Bunuel.

(11/23/00)

I can't help but wonder if Bunuel and Dali really expected people to believe that was a human eye that was slit at the beginning--it is so obviously an animal's. Of course, it was obvious to me because I have seen this film before and know what is coming. It might have a very different effect on someone seeing it for the first time and not expecting it.

The film has a narrative continuity which is meaningless. It is a string of gags or shocking moments strung together in a sequence. And I really don't even know if the images or moments refer to each other.

The hand with the ants crawling on it is typically Dali. The ants represent an itch or desire. There is a box with a hand in it--which makes me think of The Addams Family. The moment that works the best, I think, is when the man is struggling to get at the woman, but is held back by the pianos with the donkeys on top of them. I remember Alida Walsh explaining that he is held back from expressing himself sexually by "cultural baggage." I believe there are priests tied to those pianos, too--religion interfering with natural sexual expression.

There are shots in which a character begins a movement in one place and completes it in another, as in Maya Deren films. Thus, the man and the woman find themselves at the seashore. In the last part mannequins or dolls resembling them are shown buried to their waists, presumably dead.