Winner of the 1961 Palm D'Or, Buñuel's Viridiana was originally outlawed in Spain and horrified Vittorio de Sica. After a screening in Mexico City, the famous Italian neo-realist actually asked Buñuel's wife if her husband was a monster that "beat her when [they] made love." In hindsight, it's difficult to imagine how such a simple film was so misunderstood in its time, but thankfully The Criterion Collection has resurrected this masterpiece with a fine edition that illustrates the filmmaker's artistry. Viridiana has aged well. It's been 45 years since its original release, and it remains powerful.

Inspired by a painting of a little known saint and an old erotic fantasy about making love to the queen of Spain while she was drugged, Buñuel constructs his most coherent film about spiritual idealists, who are eventually crushed by human folly.

Forming an informal trilogy with Buñuel's Nazarín (1959) and Simon of the Desert (1965), the three films explore similar themes. Although many cite Buñuel's autobiographical sentiments "Still an Atheist . . . Thank God!" when describing these films, none is an attack against the Church or against the good intentions of the protagonists. All three draw extensive portraits of naïve characters, who discover they simply aren't appreciated by an indifferent universe.

Just before taking her vows, pious Viridiana (Silvia Pinal) is summoned to the home of her wealthy uncle, Don Jaime (Fernando Rey in the first of several Buñuel films). Viridiana doesn't know him well and begs her Mother Superior to allow her to stay at the convent, but is reminded that her ailing uncle has been her benefactor and that this will be the last opportunity to visit him. Ironically, Mother Superior suggests that Viridiana show him "affection."

It turns out Viridiana's instincts were correct. Her lecherous uncle has designs on her and begs her to remain at his estate. After explaining how his wife died on their wedding night, he gets Viridiana to wear her wedding dress and proceeds to drug her with the assistance of his all too loyal maid Ramona (Margarita Lozano). The following morning he convinces her than he has slept with her, spoiling her for convent life. Decidedly disturbed and disgusted, Viridiana still decides to leave the estate but discovers that Don Jaime has committed suicide before her bus arrives.

The old Spanish aristocrat wills his property to Viridiana and his prodigal son Jorge (Francisco Rabal)—a real contrast in characters. While Jorge is very practical and business-like, Viridiana idealistically wants to use the estate as a shelter for the homeless tramps and beggars from town. They end up taking advantage of her generosity, leading to the film's most memorable sequence—a hilarious spoof of Da Vinci's The Last Supper, followed by a near rape.

Although the beggar banquet scene is by far the film's most notorious, a number of other scenes also stand out—Viridiana's bizarre ritualistic sleepwalking scene, her sexually repressed encounter with a milk cow, Don Jaime's foot fetishes (a Buñuel trademark) and "rape" scene. But the one I really chuckled at takes place when Jorge begs a peasant to put his small dog inside his carriage when he sees the struggling animal tethered beneath the cart. Failing to convince the peasant of his cruelty, Jorge buys the dog from him, only to witness the dog attempt to run back to his original master when hearing its name. The camera immediately pans to another identical carriage with tethered dog in tow. Although treated as an anecdote, it reinforces Buñuel's vision about how impossible it is to make a significant difference in the world.

Not that the highly regarded surrealist filmmaker didn't attempt to make a difference or live by principles. He certainly influenced all modern cinema and remained true to his ideals, refusing to make commercial films. Despite the cynicism evidenced in many of his works, Buñuel consistently demonstrates concern for social injustices, leaning heavily towards Marxist ideals.

When Franco took over, Buñuel fled Spain and imposed an exile on himself for two decades. However, love for his native country and financial backing prompted him to return to film Viridiana when Franco wanted to showcase Spain's most prominent filmmaking artist to the world. To show his contempt for Franco, Buñuel cleverly refers to his reign and manages to sneak by the Spanish censors near the beginning of the film. When Viridiana tells her uncle that he's neglected his farm, he replies, "The weeds have taken over the past 20 years... And beyond the second floor, the house is overrun with spiders."

One scene that didn't escape the eyes of the censors was Buñuel's original suggestive ending that had Viridiana entering philandering Jorge's room alone. Too risqué for Catholic eyes, so Buñuel slips an even more provocative finale suggesting a ménage à trois past them.

Seeking the hidden and symbolic references and recognizing his signature sexual obsessions are all part of the fun in any Buñuel film, and Viridiana is no exception. A simple but layered narrative with a fine ensemble cast of professionals and non-actors, this ranks near the top of Buñuel's body of work. With Criterion enhancing the DVD presentation with some fine background supplements (highlighted by a 1964 episode of "Cineastes de notre temps" featuring interviews with the legendary director), this is a must for the cinephile.