When Luis Bunuel set out to create his surrealist magnum opus ‘Un Chien Andalou’ in 1929, he spoke to an entirely different audience than the commercialised modern cinema-goer of the 21st century. The cinematic scene of the 1920s was one of expressive, abstract concept pieces (see Le Ballet Mechanique (1924) for a glimpse into this) and a time when cemented genres of the modern era were beginning their formation.
Bunuel wanted ‘Un Chien Andalou’ to be a spine-shocking introduction to surrealism for the people of 1920's Europe and America. Surrealism was a genre of art that had the primary goal of fully expressing subconscious thought, regardless of any controversial undertones. Venting repressed desires and destabilising the grounded nature of bourgeois society was something integral to Bunuel’s craft when exploring surrealism. He was adamant that “no idea or image that might lend itself to a rational explanation of any kind would be accepted”.
Alongside Salvador Dali, Bunuel intended to craft a film based upon his dreams and subconscious thoughts. Un Chien Andalou was shot for 10 days at the Billancourt Studios in Paris and financed almost completely by Bunuel’s mother. Jean Rouch, an Anthropologist and companion of the pair, noted that after filming Bunuel had to hand-edit the scenes in his kitchen- a remarkable feat seeing as the editing appears seamless and deliberated.
Although Bunuel had intended to shock and disturb Parisian elites, the initial premiere at Studio des Ursulines did quite the opposite. Many in attendance highly enjoyed the film for it’s avant-garde approach to cinema.
Un Chien Andalou intended to be purely surreal, and I feel that it succeeded on this front. The surrealist conventions of dream-like visuals, the display of subconscious thought and many more are clearly displayed throughout the film’s runtime. In particular, the sudden transition from an everyday occurrence to extreme gore may be uncomfortable for the viewer yet is an excellent example of Bunuel’s dream-based pacing working to subvert audience expectations.
A ‘New York Times’ review of the film by A.O. Scott describes the runtime as “about 15 minutes of random and sometimes shocking images”. I feel that this undermines Bunuel’s work: surrealism is never about the random. It exists as a mechanism to release unconscious artistic expression- there is no doubt that those involved with the production of Un Chien Andalou put intense thought into each aspect of its creation.
Luddite Robot’s review of the film describes it as “Dali and Bunuel’s attempt to bend film until it breaks.”. I would definitely agree with this opinion- it goes against the grain of film at the time through its visualisation of gore, animal death, sexual assault and anti-bourgeoise symbolism.
Personally, I would say that the most compelling scene for me is when the ‘In Spring’ title card peels itself away to reveal the half-buried bodies of the film’s main characters. It was shocking to me upon first viewing and still compels me as I write this review. Bunuel intentionally reverses the heroes’ journey, instead opting to kill the audience’s anchor-characters. I also enjoy the idea of ‘in spring’ being a metaphor for rebirth and life yet completely being flipped upside itself through the unavoidable imagery of death the audience has witnessed.
Watching this film is uncannily compelling. With a runtime of 17 or so minutes (dependent on which version of the film you watch), I found myself glued to my screen anticipating Bunuel’s next subversion. I am not a viewer that often watches the experimental and thus Un Chien Andalou was like nothing I'd seen before. The scenes of gore and violence were absolutely not something I enjoyed, however, and I felt I was unable to view the ‘eye-razor’ scene for this exact reason. I feel that nothing was missed by avoiding something that would have caused me mental distress and wholeheartedly recommend this film to anyone interested in surrealism or even those wanting to step outside of their comfort zone.
Overall rating: 4.5/5 (⭐⭐⭐⭐1/2)
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