Cet obscur objet du désir

Buñuel's "That Obscure Object of Desire" dripped with substance and stunned me throughout the entire film. The masterful working of the two women into the role of Conchita was wonderful. I do not believe Buñuel for a second when he claims that he intended to use one actress, but she quit unexpectedly after shooting several critical scenes. If it is true, it is one of the more miraculous accidents in film right up there with Casablanca and The Third Man. I can be certain that he consciously gave the different Conchita's different personalities and modes of behavior. That comes across as being the focal point of the movie, turning a mediocre "one actress" film into an engaging event. If I had to put my money on something, I'd say that Buñuel is pulling some Andy Kaufman trickery here... the film worked too well with the so-called "change of plans." Or... if you have enough monkeys on typewriters, you'll get the Great American Novel. I don't believe this was chance at all. 10/10.

...I'm giving this film four antilopes and a pear floating in perfume.

Plot: Idiotic old man gives a duck-ton of money to a barely legal dancer/stripper who in turn manipulates the hell out of him. He chases her around France and Spain, and ultimately gets blowed up real good.

Personally, for most of the film I was pretty convinced that Conchita and her guitar playing friend were terrorists. I'm still not sure she wasn't.

I would like to begin by saying that this is one of the most bizarre films that I have ever experienced in my career as a movie buff. I have seen some twist endings, some passionately bad French films, and even some stalker films, but nothing compares to the cinematic genius that I just witnessed. Being a Bunuel 'virgin', I didn't know what to expect coming into this film.

I was ready for anything, but interestingly enough nothing will prepare you for this film. Deeply rooted in cinematic symbolism, we watch as two very interesting devises that are used to bring forth the overall theme of this film. Two devises that I have never seen used in a movie, until now.

The first is the obvious. Bunuel successfully uses two different actresses to play the same role of Conchita. At first I thought perhaps it was going to be one of those 'twin' double-cross films where these two girls used this older wealthy man for all his money. I was wrong. Similar to the title of this film, this is a film about passions and desires. It divulges in the emotion of obsession, and the reaction a man can have on someone that he desperately and sexually desires. Mathieu is our possible victim in this story. While both are not the most interesting characters (both have flaws and troubles), they do provide some structured characters. Mathieu is willing to give up everything for this woman that he hardly knows, but is physically attracted to her. It is hard to say that he loves her, but he does lust for her. The dual role of Conchita in this film is used for two purposes. The first is as a distraction, while the second is emotion. Both Conchitas are different in their own way and are used to push forward the story. Whenever Bunuel needed to convey a different emotion, he would bring in the actress that best represented that emotion. At first it was confusing, but as the film progressed you began to see less and less separate actresses, but instead as one character. It is impressive how Bunuel created this illusion.

As I mentioned above, there were two devises that I have never seen in a movie before. I explained above about the use of two women for one female role, but the second is a bit subtler. I briefly mentioned it above about how these two women (one character) were used to distract. If you pay attention to the film terrorism is a big part of the universe surrounding Mathieu. While he pines continually for Conchita, the world around him is falling apart. Bombings and deaths are at an all time high, yet he doesn't really seem to notice this. He is so caught up in Conchita that it seems like nothing else exists. He is oblivious to his surroundings. In fact, I would go so far as to say that we are also oblivious to the surroundings. Bunuel does this job of keeping our eye focused on the interchanging women that we sometimes forget or miss the actions surrounding this film. I believe that Bunuel is trying to prove the point that obsession does obscure your vision. It blurs your eyes and forces you to miss crucial elements of your surroundings. It isn't until the end when we are reminded violently of the truth surrounding our characters. I felt that Bunuel was slapping me in the face with that final scene. I had nearly forgotten myself of the terrorism outside, but easily he reminded me.

This was a spectacular film that really opened my eyes to a completely new way of film-making. It reminded me of some of the early works of another favorite director of mine Francois Ozon. Both of these talented artists have their own way of creating a world and an emotion, and both do it with some of the most beautiful strokes of their mechanical brush. I would recommend this film to anyone that is willing to experience radical, yet provocative film-making at its best. You will be impressed.

I cannot wait to include this film in my collection to watch over and over again. Thanks to Criterion, they have provided a beautiful packaging to this obscure film.

Grade: ***** out of *****

Few other directors would dare to equate the male libido with international terrorism, but the final feature by master surrealist Luis Buñuel is a dark comic web of sexual obsession (too dark to be truly funny) set against a background of random explosions and political assassinations. The always dapper Fernando Rey stars as a wealthy gentleman who develops an all-consuming infatuation for his young Spanish maid, who by turns tempts him, teases him, refuses him, and finally humiliates him. All Rey wants is to carry his passion to its logical conclusion, but her (deliberately?) unpredictable shifts in mood, from coy temptation to spiteful rejection, leave him in a state of dangerous frustration. Buñuel applies his usual sly wit to the otherwise cynical and pessimistic scenario (one man affectionately refers to women as "sacks of excrement"), going so far as to cast two completely different actresses in the title role and interchanging them at random. The film is at once perverse and disturbing, providing a suitably mordant swan song to a long and distinguished career in movie iconoclasm.

Luis Buñuel is still concerned with chastity and sexual morality. In 'obscur' he concludes a trinity in my opinion (after 'fantôme' and 'discret') and his career as a director. These three films represent roughly the films he made in b/w: 'fantôme' represents the surrealism and random dreams of his first films, 'discret' represents his critical anticlericism and anti-bourgeois denouncement and 'cet obscur objet du désir' represents a number of films in which Buñuel expresses his concerns about sexual morality (Tristana, Belle de jour, Journal d'une femme de chambre). The great Fernando Rey (French Connection, Tristana, Viridiana, Campanadas a medianoche) and the great cinematographer Edmond Richard (Campanadas a medianoche '65, le Procès '63, Fantôme liberté '74, Charme discret '72) complement Buñuel's intriguing techniques. Even the cover of the video (a stitched mouth) complements the preceding two (a statue of liberty with a limp torch, a mouth with two legs and a hat). Unfortunately 'obscur' is not as startling and inventive as many of Buñuel's other films: it's not one of his best, but still very worthy.

A man (Fernando Rey) step in a train, throws a bucket of water over a woman and tells his surrounding passengers (a professor in psychology, a judge, a child and her mother, who inquire because they're eager to hear the sordid details) about how he met Conchita (former maid, Carola Bouquet/Ángela Molina) and tried to win her by paying her's and her mother's bills. This bourgeois man thinks he can buy her love and her mother's help (like buying furniture, or like trapping a mouse with a mouse-trap). Those are the premises for a moralistic but incredibly subtle story (not a farce) about subversiveness. There is no music in the film, apart from the end scene and some flamenco source music. I do appreciate a film that doesn't need music to emphasize emotions. That was one of Buñuel's many virtues.

The mysterious actress Muni appears several times. But really strange are the two actresses playing the same woman. They probably represent the two Conchitas: one rational and very careful not to get trapped (wearing an iron maiden and a white handbag), the other with temperament, attracted to Mathieu but devious and deceitful (with a black handbag just one second after carrying the white one). In Mathieu's mind Conchita was a hypocrit (Rey: 'You will appreciate that she deserved the chastisement'). Or is it only the same woman in the mind of Mathieu? Are the two Conchitas representing Mathieu's constantly changing mind? Or did something happen to one of the actresses on the set so that Buñuel had to finish shooting with another actress? Later that day Conchita carries a brown handbag, after having thrown a bucket of water over Mathieu she must have made some message clear to him, uniting the former two handbags in one (?) and uniting the two Conchitas in one? Their relationship explodes eventually. I'm wondering how that emerged from the novel by Pierre Louÿs: writer of 'La femme et le pantin' (1958).

8/10