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After the success of their
seventeen-minute surreal Un
Chien Andalou, Luis
Buñuel and Salvador Dalí were
commissioned by Marie-Laurie and Charles de Noailles
to make another short film that experiments with
sound resulting in more surreal imagery juxtaposed
with music by Wagner, Debussy, Mendelssohn, and
the Good Friday Drums of Calanda. Audiences in 1930
weren't ready for L'Âge
d'or, and modern audiences aren't
much better prepared to handle the content, though
it's more likely that people today would walk out
shaking their heads in puzzlement instead of rioting
like the League of Patriots and the Anti-Semitic
League did upon the film's initial release. The
outraged viewers tossed ink and acid at the screen
and ransacked the adjoining art gallery, damaging
paintings by Dali and Max Ernst.
What could possibly provoke such a reaction? Although
sexually suggestive (a woman's leg juxtaposed with
a religious sacrament, for example), most of it
doesn't seem too outrageous--though a sexual orgy
scene that includes Jesus would send a few over
the top.
Banned for years because of its controversial content,
it's difficult to find a suitable print of Buñuel's
first feature film. The copy I was able to obtain
is subtitled in French, and my limited understanding
of the language prevents me from comprehending the
film as fully as I'd like. Fortunately, Buñuel's
visual sense still comes through--his trademark
criticisms of religion and the bourgeoisie remain
as evident as the marble statue foot fetish scene.
Beginning with a documentary style sequence of scorpions
stinging each other and then battling a rat, Buñuel
and Dali switch to a man sexually assaulting a woman
in the mud (Gaston Modot and Lya Lys)--yet she yearns
for him. Both appear obsessed and pursue each other
while surreal images emerge--the woman sitting on
a toilet juxtaposed with bubbling mud, an unexpected
kick of a small white dog, a milk cow on the apartment
bed, advertising posters coming to life, and a violent
beetle stomp that foreshadows the trashing of a
violin on the sidewalk.
Many scenes play like Monty Python sketches, taking
pot shots at an uptight society. Four bishops emerge
to pray on the rocks only to rot away into skeletal
forms, a man stops to presumably help a blind man
but kicks him instead, a child steals a small item
and is promptly shot (twice for good measure), and
another bishop is tossed out the window.
Then there's that controversial orgy scene, with
drum accompaniment. Buñuel fondly refers
to it in his autobiography:
"When
two groups beating two different tempi meet on one
of the village streets, they engage in a veritable
duel which may last as long as an hour--or at least
until the weaker group relents and takes up the
victor's rhythm. By the early hours of Saturday
morning, the skin on the drums is stained with blood,
even though the beating hands belong to hardworking
peasants."
Buñuel
and Dali shocked and scandalized cinema audiences
nearly forty years before Andy Warhol would attempt
to push the envelope and nearly sixty before Lars
van Trier proposed Dogme films. Too avant-garde for
their day, Un
Chien Andalou and L'Âge
d'or have influenced and inspired Hitchcock,
Fellini, and other creative visual stylists our time.
To fill in the French language gaps, I've ordered
Paul Hammond's book on the film, but even without
the background material there's still plenty to appreciate
from the mind-bending visual context. It's definitely
sexual and sensual and anti-religious. I'll just figure
out what the hell I missed later |