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Released by: Facets
Released on: 12/28/2004
Director: Luis Bunuel
Cast: Simone Mareuil, Pierre Batcheff, Luis Bunuel, Salvador Dali
Year: 1929
The Movie:
This film makes no sense. That's the point. It is, by its very definition, a film that is weird only for the sake of being weird. Un Chien Andalou is simply a series of bizarre and at times rather extreme images conjured up by the collective imaginations of Salvador Dali and Luis Bunuel.
The most infamous moment the film contains is a rather disturbing scene in which a straight razor is used to slit open a woman's eye (an extremely well done effect) but there's more - ants crawling out of a whole in a man's hand that may or may not be stigmata, a man pulling a pair of piano's that have two dead donkeys on top while carrying two stone tablets (the Ten Commandments?) and a pair of priests behind him, a strange moment or two of female nudity and male gropping thereof, and a crowd gathered around a severed hand while a man pokes at it with his walking cane - all the while the clouds in the night sky move to and frow in front of the moon.
Some of this imagery does allow for interpretation. For instance, apparantly the scene with the ants coming out of the man's hand is taken from a French term 'ants in the hand' which means that a man or woman is dealing with the urge to kill another human being. The man pulling the pianos can be interpretted as a man who is being held back from what he wants by his art, and by his religious beliefs. Even with that in mind, the images appear and end at random and the film, meant to be as open to interpretation as the dreams that inspired it in the first place.
The storyline isn't important in this movie, neither are the characters. The point was to make a movie that defied catagorization and that tried something new, something non linear and something unusual. The result is an almost rhythmic film that is as mind boggling frustrating as it is strangely fascinating - and that's the beauty of this odd little film. The imagery is dark and even a little bit frightening at times, but the film itself doesn't need to be explained - it can mean anything to anyone which almost makes each viewing a unique experience depending on where one's mind is at when one sits down to watch it.
Luis Bunuel and Salvador Dali actually have very brief, uncredited appearances in the film, but if you blink, you'll miss them.
Video/Audio/Extras:
Well, for a film shot close to sixty five years ago without much money, the 1.33.1 fullframe image doesn't look too bad. Sure, there is plenty of print damage and oodles of scratches across the image but it doesn't look any worse than the majority of other smaller, independent films from that are and in fact at times it looks considerably better. Contrast is spot on for most of the presentation and while certain scenes obviously weren't lit so well, it's never really a chore to see what is happening on screen.
Well, seeing as this film is silent, there's not a whole lot to evaluate but the subtitles translate the dialoge cards and some of the credits as well without any typos or problems. The music that plays overtop of the film comes through nice and clear without any hiss or distortion and while this is all very simple and basic, it gets the job done adequately and without any issues.
First up in the extra features department is a full length commentary from surrealism expert and author Stephen Barber, who puts the short film into context and compares it against some of Bunuel's other films, most notably L'Age D'Or. While it's hard to pack too much into a sixteen minute session, Barber does a pretty good job at explaining the theories that Dali and Bunuel were using when making the film, as well as some of their goals and even goes so far as to explain some of the symbolism behind a few certain scenes.
Following the commentary track is an interview entitled A Slice Of Bunuel running just over fifteen minutes in length with Juan-Luis Bunuel, son of the late director. He gives a short history and biography of his father and his work and explains a few misconceptions about his life, and also provides a few amusing anecdotes in regards to his athiestic view points and theologies.
A second interview running just over six minutes in length entitled Epilogue: Dali And Bunuel again features Juan-Luis who explains the bizarre and eventually tumultuous relationship that Bunel and Dali shared, as well as how it all ended and why.
Rounding out the extra features are some liner notes that transcribe a speech that Bunuel gave in 1933 entitled The Mystery Of Cinema, as well as a still gallery of artwork from Dave KcKean (he of Sandman cover art fame) that also contains a statement from the artist in relation to the film and the filmmakers.
The Final Word:
Anyone even remotely interested in surrealist filmmaking needs to see Un Chien Andalou. While it doesn't get as out there as more modern films like the work of Jodorowsky or Arrabel, it is still plenty weird for weird's sake and Facets has assembled some nice extras to go along with it.