La via lattea

This masterpiece is Bunuel at his best. It draws from the confrontational and revolutionary fire present in his Mexican films like "Il Brute", the intelligent and informed humor of his earlier religious farce, "Simon of The Desert", and I believe serves as a living picture of the transition his work seemed to under go between the more vivid and shocking Dali inspired surrealism of his early carrer (the obvious example being "Un Chien Andalou") and the more subtle and organic magical-realist influenced surrealism of "That Obscure Object of Desire". This film is certainly not light however. While there are no razor blindings or ant infested ears, the pope does fall victim to a firing squad of radicals. In fact I believe Bunuel succeds in leaving the viewer much more disgusted and upset by confronting him with the stark realities of the Catholic faith, and after all isn't that what surrealism is all about? It must be said that in order to understand and appreciate this film one must have a very good understanding of a variety of religious thinkers and of the history/practices of the catholic church. If you don't have such a background but are still lucky enough to get a chance to view this film, by all means take it, more likely than not it will inspire you to investigate the matter further and Bunuel conveniently mentions the names of all most all the writers he references in the film so take that list to a library, read up and watch it again, you won't be disappointed.

The Milky Way is set in comparatively modern times. Two vagabond pilgrims make a journey to Spain. Specifically, to Santiago de Compostela. The remains of James the Apostle were thought to be interred there. On the way they meet various characters from different time periods. Including Jesus, the devil, the Virgin Mary, Jesuits, Jansenists, the Marquis de Sade, assorted clerics and a prostitute. All provide vignettes in which points of heresy are debated. People are routinely condemned to death or challenged to duels based on the fine shading of the wording of faith. It runs like a cross between Pilgrim's Progress and The Canterbury Tales, with just a touch of Life of Brian in passing.

But what puts the Milky Way in a class apart from most films of its ilk – even reverent biblical epics – is its careful adherence to the wording of the theological debates running through Christianity's history. According to Buñuel (who deserted Catholicism for atheism at the age of sixteen), "Besides the situation itself and the authentic doctrinal dispute it evokes, the film is above all a journey through fanaticism, where each person obstinately clings to his own particle of truth, ready if need be to kill or to die for it. The road traveled by the two pilgrims can represent, finally, any political or even aesthetic ideology."

Strangely, the film was welcomed on release both by Buñuel's anti-religious following and (to his embarrassment) the The Holy See itself. According to his biographer, Buñuel had planned for many years a film that would affirm his atheism, the intellectual scepticism he held towards a church he had renounced in his teens. Director and producer compiled a list of apostasies and repression and concluded that most heresies came from six areas of doubt: (1) The double nature of Christ. Was he God or man? God and man? God pretending to be man? (2) The Trinity; how can three natures co-exist in the same entity? (3) The Immaculate Conception. Mary, a virgin, was nevertheless Christ's mother. (4) Transubstantiation. Can bread literally become the body of Christ? Is this just a metaphor? (5) The problem of God's omnipotence. Is God all-powerful? If so, do we enjoy free will? (6) Evil. Did God create evil? "The list suggested no obvious structure, so they simply dramatized incidents illustrating the heresies, linking them with a pair of wandering modern pilgrims."*

Now if you've read this far, you may well already be interested in theology, whether as a believer or atheist, but it highlights one of the big shortcomings of the film. The psychopathology of Christianity is mainly of interest to its own theologians. While the film will just about hold you if you have already pondered such questions, others may be wondering why he spent so long dwelling on such bilge. Having dispensed, he claims, with such imponderables, is he simply exorcising old ghosts from his early teens? One religious-based reviewer wrote: "Whilst it's certainly sceptical about Christianity, the fact that it's been written by people who know their Catholicism inside out, and are not afraid to make a film that is inaccessible to those do not, means the film at least deserves some respect even if ultimately we disagree with its, somewhat tenuous, conclusions." It is a position with which I could only guardedly agree.

"One thing troubles me," says a young acolyte in one of the film's Spanish Inquisition periods. "The burning of heretics – may it not go against the will of the Holy Spirit?" The inquisitor replies, "It is the secular justice of men that punishes them. Not because they are heretics but for their sedition." Pushing his luck, the acolyte counters with, "But then, those whose brothers have been burnt will burn others, and so on. Each one believing he possesses the truth. Why these millions of deaths?" A stern glance and the acolyte desists – before he too is cast to the flames. (The logic seems more applicable to the constant conflicts between Islam and Christianity – or at least Palestine and Israel. In terms of burning people, the Catholic Church triumphed over every other brand of Christianity with unfettered brutality.)

Perhaps Buñuel found it amusing or even instructive to make this film. The millions of deaths, and the fanaticism that led to them, is not condemned. To the believer, perhaps they were God's will. But to this reviewer at least, Buñuel maybe falls short of his usual high achievements in elevating the good or bringing down hypocrisy. The Milky way is clever enough – even erudite – but ultimately an intellectual exercise rather than the powerful film it could have been.

*(nb - six areas of doubt are quoted from Baxter's biography of the director)

In view of its subject matter – the gleeful put-down of Christian dogma, a lot of which is contradictory anyway (explaining the flood of religious sects we have all suffered from!) – this has always been the one Bunuel film that is perhaps hardest to warm up to; more than any other of the director's work, its relentlessly didactic nature requires one's full attention throughout – and, needless to say, the experience can be somewhat daunting (it's definitely not the ideal choice for a beginner!). However, THE MILKY WAY is still a milestone in the Surrealist director's career: his previous effort, the chic and sexy BELLE DE JOUR (1967), had performed exceptionally well at the box-office – hence, Bunuel was given carte blanche on the next one; typically, he responded by delivering that which, on the surface, amounts to the exact opposite of what was expected of him: a distinctly uncommercial venture!

That said, one can't very well overlook the director's approach to the material: it takes the form of a picaresque odyssey dealing with two men's pilgrimage from France to the burial site of a revered saint in Spain, and their many bizarre adventures along the way; Paul Frankeur and Laurent Terzieff appear in the lead roles. They meet scores of people who either help, hinder or simply baffle them – a few of these are actually historical figures (such as the Marquis De Sade, incarnated by Michel Piccoli) or even symbolic ones (say, Pierre Clementi's brooding Satan); most, however, are clergy (even if one proves to be a fugitive from a lunatic asylum!) or common people with a vested interest in Theology (for instance, the maitre d' played by Julien Bertheau – who, after imparting much spiritual wisdom to his 'congregation', denies food to the weary protagonists)!

The journey is interestingly book-ended by the duo's meeting with, first, a man (Alain Cuny) who predicts they will each have a child and, then, a whore (Delphine Seyrig) who offers herself up for the task; what ties the two scenes together is that both strangers supply the same cryptic names to the proposed offsprings i.e. "Ye Are Not Of The People" and "No More Mercy"! Incidentally, the film's episodic structure would be adopted again by Bunuel (indeed, it's improved upon) in two subsequent films – both sublime and uproarious – namely THE DISCREET CHARM OF THE BOURGEOISIE (1972) and THE PHANTOM OF LIBERTY (1974); in fact, one could say that these three films comprise a trilogy whose loosely interrelated narratives (in which, literally, anything goes) basically encompass all of Bunuel's many and varied concerns over the years. THE MILKY WAY is certainly the most intellectual of the director's works, but it's all stylishly deployed (he'd retain the deceptively glossy look of BELLE DE JOUR, for which some would subsequently accuse him of selling out[!], throughout all his remaining efforts) and undeniably hilarious for those not offended by blasphemous irreverence.

Some more of the film's indelible images involve: Frankeur thinking of himself as Jesus about to shave off the trademark beard and being dissuaded from doing so by Mary (Edith Scob); Bernard Verley, then, is endearing as a thoroughly commonplace (if snobbish) Christ – his chilling last words (taken from St. Matthew's Gospel), that he came to cause discord within the family unit and that woe befall anyone who loves somebody else more than him, must constitute one of the most wicked finales to any film!; Terzieff's casual swearword costing them a lift by an ultra-conservative driver; his own jinxed nature (wishing a man who has bypassed them to die horribly in a road accident, which happens soon after), ditto when daring God to strike him with lightning and being amazed by the practically instant reply from on high; later, during a school activity in which little children are indoctrinated in religious intolerance, Terzieff also loudly imagines a group of revolutionaries (the events of May '68 were still vivid in people's minds) executing the Pope – played by Bunuel himself! – via firing squad. Incidentally, the director's own voice is heard – reciting a prayer in Latin! – on the radio of the aforementioned burning car; in the same vein, co-scriptwriter Jean-Claude Carriere – a regular Bunuel collaborator – makes an infrequent appearance before the cameras as a decadent bishop presiding over an orgy in the forest (another sequence that is exclusively in Latin). Two more stalwart presences from the Surrealist master's canon are Claudio Brook, playing another high-ranking church official exhuming the body of the saint – to whom our heroes (and, we are told, thousands every year) have come from afar to pay tribute – so as to excommunicate him in view of facts which have only just come to the fore(!), and Georges Marchal, seen dueling for his steadfast beliefs, but the point of the discussion is so muddled that it's soon forgotten by the participants – by the way, a crucified nun is also prominently featured in this scene! For the record, this film contains one of Bunuel's most famous dictums (spoken by an undefined character during a transcendental sermon by a particularly insistent priest), namely "My hatred of Science and Technology almost brings me to the absurdity of a belief in God"!

According to the extras on the Criterion DVD (these include an elaborate trailer, an introduction by Carriere, an interesting interview with noted film critic Ian Christie, and a 37-minute featurette which is given its due elsewhere), the conception for the script came at the 1967 Venice Film Festival after a screening of Jean-Luc Godard's LA CHINOISE, the Nouvelle Vague exponent's full-blown induction into the realm of Political Cinema. Incidentally, it's also said here that THE MILKY WAY garnered the best reviews of Bunuel's entire career!

Le fantôme de la liberté (Buñuel, 1974) seems to take off right from this film as if it were a sequel, visually and conceptually. This film however is much more determined to denounce the contradictions and hypocrisy of different religions, while Fantôme has even more artistic freedom. Also this is much more coherent and if there is any danger of getting heavy-handed, Buñuel knows how to joke himself a way out using illusionism or a mild shock-treatment. It is simultaneously very rational and miraculous. The anti-clericism and subversive desires frequently come to the surreal surface. I can't help but see this as an inspiration for Monty Python's 'Life of Brian' (1979), because that film also remotely feels like an off the wall road movie in which anything can happen.

The subject matter was sort of tough for an atheist (heretic?) like me, but the humour with which Buñuel lets the characters throw the crucial differences between religions at each other is hilarious. E.g. in the middle of a duel between a Catholic and a Jesuit: 'Prior will is mere impulse. My thoughts and my will are not in my own power ... ma liberte est un fantôme.' 'What does freedom mean anyway? How can I be free if what I do is determined in advance?' etc. And why would all the personnel of a restaurant be caught up in an eloquent discussion about the existence of God while they are at work? See for yourself. Cinematographer Christian Matras (also Le Grande Illusion, 1937) continues to improve Buñuel's visual style using zoom-pan-zoom shots for instance, but keeps it sober.

9/10

There are two Bunuels: the cheeky Bunuel who makes movies filled with blatant symbolism and surrealism attacking religion and sexuality, and the narrative Bunuel, who makes more subtle films which approach these same issues in more mature ways.

The first Bunuel, the Bunuel of L'Age D'Or and Un Chien Andalou, was definitely at work on this project. The coherent narratives of Los Olivados, Criminal Life of Archibaldo de la Cruz, Exterminating Angel or even Discrete Charm of the Bourgoise.

Bunuel loved ambiguity and abstraction. He loved making people feel uncertain of things in all his movies - yet many of them maintain a serene, smooth surface nonetheless - there may be dream sequences in them, and things out of the ordinary happening, yet they don't jump around in the madcap way this movie and L'Age D'Or do, constantly making the viewer adjust to a new scene with seemingly no relation to the last, which is afterwards resolved when the pilgrims appear and reinstate continuity.

The two pilgrim characters are our tour guides through a patchwork of historical vignettes involving important religious events.

The highlight of the film for me was when a priest is talking to a man and a woman through a locked door, locked on the advice of the innkeeper presumably to keep the chaplin from coming into their rooms and preaching to them, and the chaplin is talking to them about how Mary could have given birth and remained a virgin. He thinks of an example of this: like light coming through a window. Bunuel cuts from the priest sitting outside the room to the couple inside the room, and suddenly the priest is sitting inside the room talking to he couple. In the next shot, he is outside, and the following shot, inside again. A superb example of cinematic irony.

I'm actually not quite sure what i thought of the film - its certainly not among my favourite Bunuels (Discrete Charm of the Bourgoisie, Exterminating Angel, Los Olivados, L'Age D'Or), but its the sort of film that clearly rewards repeat viewings. As another reviewer commented, a knowledge of religious history reaped rich rewards from it, which makes me wish i knew a little more than i did.

Clifford's Commendations: Like with any Bunuel film, if you're christian, and you get it, you won't like it! If you're not christian, it'll help if you know some christian history to get all the laughs and satire on offer. Without this knowledge, from personal experience, the film has fruits to offer, but you won't enjoy it as much as many other Bunuels.