These days, the Spanish filmmaker Luis Buñuel is regarded as one of cinema’s greatest directors but his career, as a whole, wasn’t filled with success and admiration. I won’t go into too much detail about it here, as it’s a long and complex tale, but, in a nutshell, although he caused a sensation with Un chien andalou (1929) and L’âge d’or (1930), his first two, highly surrealist films made alongside his then friend Salvador Dalí, it was a while afterwards until Buñuel made anything else that made much impact. The controversy surrounding those first two shocking films didn’t help, with the latter, in particular, being deemed anti-Catholic.
At the close of the 30s, around the end of the Spanish Civil War, Buñuel left Europe. He moved with his family to America but eventually work dried up after Hollywood stopped dubbing films for South America, which was his bread and butter at the time.
So, in 1946 he started making films in Mexico, working in much more mainstream cinema than he was used to and is known for. This, however, allowed him to hone his craft and he was proud of his filmmaking efficiency. Also, among the more generic titles he made, he managed to direct some highly respected films during this period, such as Los Olvidados, El and Nazarin.
Buñuel’s career was to get a considerable boost, however, in 1960 at the Cannes Film Festival, where his film, The Young One, was being screened and won a special award. Buñuel was approached by the filmmaker Carlos Saura who had started a production company with another pair of director friends. They thought having Buñuel on board, making a long-awaited return to Spanish filmmaking, would be great for their company.
At the same time, Mexican actress Silvia Pinal talked her husband Gustavo Alatriste into approaching Buñuel to offer to produce his next film, so long as she could star in it. It was arranged for Buñuel to be allowed to visit Spain, after he’d been effectively exiled by the Franco regime, and Alatriste vowed to give him creative freedom over the proposed project. This latter point particularly pleased Buñuel and production began on the film that would become Viridiana.
Viridiana, whilst once again courting controversy for its seemingly anti-religious sentiments, won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival and Buñuel went on to make two more Mexican films with Pinal and Alatriste, The Exterminating Angel (1962) and Simon of the Desert (1965).
He moved back to Europe following this, to begin probably his most successful and well-known run of films, starting with Belle de Jour (1967) and ending with his final work, That Obscure Object of Desire (1977).
This period included several much-loved classics but some might argue that it was the films he made with Pinal and Alatriste, at the end of his ‘Mexican period’, that are his best.
To argue this case, Radiance Films have collected Viridiana, The Exterminating Angel and Simon of the Desert into a Blu-ray box set entitled Nothing is Sacred: Three Heresies by Luis Buñuel.
I must admit, I’m not very experienced with Buñuel, so I thought this would be a good opportunity to dig into his work. I requested a set of screeners and my brief thoughts on the films follow.
Viridiana
Director: Luis Buñuel
Screenplay: Julio Alejandro, Luis Buñuel
Based on a Novel by: Benito Pérez Galdós (uncredited)
Starring: Silvia Pinal, Francisco Rabal, Fernando Rey, Margarita Lozano, José Calvo, José Manuel Martín, Victoria Zinny
Country: Mexico, Spain
Running Time: 91 min
Year: 1961
Viridiana follows the young novice nun of the title (played by Silvia Pinal), who is about to take her final vows. Before doing so, she is strong-armed into visiting her estranged uncle, Don Jaime (Fernando Rey), a wealthy landowner. Don Jaime, infatuated with Viridiana’s resemblance to his deceased wife, attempts to seduce her. When his advances are rejected and a subsequent attempt to rape her is cut short, he commits suicide.
Overwhelmed by guilt, Viridiana decides to use her inheritance to open a shelter for the poor and destitute on her uncle’s estate, much to the annoyance of Don Jaime’s illegitimate son Jorge (Francisco Rabal), who also moves into the grounds.
Sadly, Viridiana’s well-intentioned efforts are met with chaos and mismanagement. Once left to their own devices, her ‘lodgers’ turn the estate into a scene of debauchery and immorality, culminating in a drunken feast.
In his commentary on Viridiana, Michael Brooke states how he believes the film is a perfect starting point in approaching Buñuel’s work, in how, like many of his films, it attacks the “hypocrisy of the church and middle classes and the hopeless naiveté of those who vie to do good in a world where the concept of civilisation is merely a surface veneer”. It’s approachable though, through the way it tackles these themes in a less surreal style than most of his more famous work.
This doesn’t make Buñuel’s attacks on society any less potent though. At the start of the film, Viridiana is virtuous and idealistic but, by the end, she’s a husk of a woman, broken down by society. Everything she does is well-meaning but never works out as she believes it will in her blinkered view of the world.
The film also looks at modernisation and its disinterest in religion and tradition. The young Jorge swiftly takes over his father’s estate and proceeds to reshape the grounds. A telling scene intercuts the building work with Viridiana and the paupers praying together amidst all the noise.
What I particularly liked about Buñuel’s approach here and, indeed, in the other films in the set, was that nothing is black and white. There are no clear villains – everyone could be held accountable for what transpires, for whatever reasons they may have had for their actions. Buñuel seems to want to explore humanity’s flaws in general.
Viridiana isn’t just an acidic attack on society though, it’s a compelling film in its own right, through its strong central performances, scandalous narrative, doses of humour and impressive cinematic craftsmanship.
The climactic ‘Last Supper’ scene is particularly enjoyable, with Buñuel relishing in parodying da Vinci’s famous mural with a group of rambunctious peasants.
So, Buñuel’s film presents a nihilistic, cynical view of humanity, where nobody comes out smelling of roses, but does so with great wit and flair.
Film:
The Exterminating Angel (a.k.a. El ángel exterminador)
Director: Luis Buñuel
Screenplay: Luis Buñuel, Luis Alcoriza
Starring: Silvia Pinal, Jacqueline Andere, Enrique Rambal, José Baviera, Augusto Benedico, Luis Beristáin, Antonio Bravo, Claudio Brook
Country: Mexico
Running Time: 93 min
Year: 1962
In The Exterminating Angel, a group of wealthy guests attend a lavish dinner party after a night at the opera. As the evening progresses, a strange phenomenon occurs: the guests find themselves inexplicably unable to leave the living room. Initially, they attempt to maintain their composure and civility, but as days pass and desperation grows, their polite veneer begins to crack.
Trapped within the confines of the opulent setting, the guests descend into a state of chaos and barbarism. Basic necessities like food and water dwindle, and the once-refined individuals resort to desperate measures to survive. Their social hierarchy breaks down, revealing their true, often ugly natures.
The Exterminating Angel is probably my favourite film in this collection, though it’s close between this and Viridiana. Like in that earlier film, Buñuel takes no prisoners in savagely attacking modern society, particularly the bourgeoisie, in this case. It’s a film that could be read in a number of ways, but the way things play out, to me, suggest Buñuel is ridiculing the repetitive, vapid rigmarole of social gatherings. Initially, it’s the rules of ‘polite society’ that are keeping the hosts from kicking their guests out once it gets late. Once the group go ‘off-script’, however, they become literally trapped and don’t know how to survive.
What I particularly enjoyed about The Exterminating Angel was how playful it is. Whereas Viridiana was relatively straightforward, in terms of portraying ‘reality’, its follow-up leans more heavily towards the surreal.
Now, I’m not actually a fan of films pushing too hard into the bizarre, as they tend to become too messy and confusing to compel you to watch. The Exterminating Angel strikes a nice balance though. Small details are off, here and there, rather than throwing constant curveballs at the audience in an ‘anything goes’ fashion. There are some particularly subtle touches that I enjoyed early on, where sequences and conversations are inexplicably repeated. This strengthens the theme of the film and puts you off-kilter before the big reveal of the guests being literally trapped.
I spotted a blatant microphone in-shot at one point too. Perhaps it was a mistake but I wouldn’t be surprised if Buñuel did this on purpose as it doesn’t just pop in slightly at the edges. I believe it could be a precursor to the famous fourth-wall-breaking moment in The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie when a curtain opens up and reveals that the dinner party guests are being watched by an audience and a stage manager is feeding lines to them.
The Exterminating Angel looks great too. Buñuel manages to avoid a stagey look, despite the restricted setting, through some elegant camera moves. He’s also a master of staging and knows when to hold takes for longer and when to quickly cut. He has a wonderfully balanced control of pace and rhythm.
I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the final sequence though, when there appeared to be rioting or similar on the streets, but the film was strong enough elsewhere to allow me to just go along with it.
Film:
Simon of the Desert (a.k.a. Simón del desierto)
Director: Luis Buñuel
Screenplay: Julio Alejandro, Luis Buñuel
Based on a Novel by: Benito Pérez Galdós (uncredited)
Starring: Claudio Brook, Silvia Pinal, Hortensia Santoveña, Francisco Reiguera, Luis Aceves Castañeda, Enrique del Castillo, Jesús Fernández
Country: Mexico
Running Time: 45 min
Year: 1965
Simon of the Desert follows the life of a deeply religious hermit, Simon (Claudio Brook), who lives alone on top of a pillar in the desert. He seeks spiritual enlightenment and isolation from the temptations of the world. However, his solitude is interrupted by various local characters and several bizarre and fantastical occurrences.
Most notably, Simon is approached by various forms of the Devil, mostly played by Pinal. These encounters challenge his faith and test his commitment to his ascetic lifestyle.
Accounts differ, but some evidence suggests that Simon of the Desert was originally going to be part of an anthology film. Preparations for the other sections fell through, as big-name directors were asked to get involved but made demands that didn’t fit with Pinal and Alatriste’s plans. As such, Simon of the Desert is a lot shorter than most feature films, running at 45 minutes, but I think the length perfectly matches its story. It’s much easier to digest in this form and the brevity means Bunuel can explore his ideas without worrying about a captivating narrative. I sometimes wish we’d get more films of this length, now and again (or an hour might feel more fulfilling), rather than the bum-numbing marathons that seem to be popular these days.
Once again, Buñuel has targets to hit and aspects of society to ridicule. These might not be quite what you’d expect though, given the synopsis and the fact that the director was a notorious atheist. Though the film pokes fun at Simon and his bizarre challenge, Bunuel also shows him performing a true miracle. It’s the reaction of his followers that is interesting. They don’t care. They’re either not looking or have grown bored of the miracles he’s done in the past. They also grow wary of Simon’s sermons on how they should be living more frugally to please the Lord.
The way the mass of Simon’s followers act and react is interesting too. They blindly follow, for the most part, praising his actions without necessarily following them themselves. To borrow Lulu Wang’s thought in her interview on the disc, the ‘mob mentality’ explored by Buñuel’s work and even experienced by his films on release is incredibly relevant today in the current ‘culture wars’.
Like the other titles in this set, there is a fair amount of humour injected into the script too. I particularly enjoyed the dwarf goatherder character, played by Jesús Fernández. Not being a ‘man of the cloth’, he’s able to speak bluntly to Simon and often sets him straight, not that the hermit ever listens.
The film is handsomely shot by Gabriel Figueroa, who was also the cinematographer on The Exterminating Angel. Like in that film, he and Buñuel make the most of the minimal locations.
There’s another audacious ending here too, which brings the film’s theme to the modern age.
So, Simon of the Desert provides a strong end to the set. It’s an unusual short feature, which is less concerned with plot and more with exploring its theme. It’s no less compelling and well-crafted than the other films here though and doesn’t outstay its welcome, aided by its slender running time.
Film:
Nothing is Sacred: Three Heresies by Luis Buñuel is out on 16th December on region free Blu-Ray, released by Radiance Films. The picture quality on all three titles is fantastic. Details are crisp, damage practically non-existent, and tones beautifully balanced. I’ve used screengrabs throughout this review to give you an idea of how the films look, though these have been compressed.
I found the audio reflected shortcomings of the original productions, with some hiss at times and harsh ‘s’ sounds in places, but it’s otherwise robust for films of that era.
BLU-RAY LIMITED EDITION BOX SET SPECIAL FEATURES:
– New 4K restorations of Viridiana and Simon of the Desert from the original negatives
– A new restoration of The Exterminating Angel from a 4K scan by Radiance Films
– Uncompressed mono PCM audio for each film
– Newly filmed appreciations for each film and Buñuel by filmmakers Richard Ayoade, Alex Cox, Guillermo del Toro, and Lulu Wang (2024, 55 mins)
– The Life and Times of Don Luis Buñuel – A BBC Arena documentary on Buñuel featuring contributions from Buñuel and collaborators including Catherine Deneuve, presented on Blu-ray for the first time (1983, 101 mins)
– A Mexican Buñuel – A documentary directed by Emilio Maillé on Buñuel’s Mexican period (1995, 56 mins)
– Buñuel: A Surrealist Filmmaker – A feature-length documentary directed by Javier Espada on Buñuel’s life and career, presented on Blu-ray for the first time (2021, 84 mins)
– An interview with Buñuel from 1964 recorded for French TV’s Cinéastes de notre temps (1964, 48 mins)
– The Other Trinity: Alatriste, Buñuel and Pinal – A visual essay on Buñuel in Mexico by Abraham Castillo Flores (2024, 34 mins)
– Dinner and Other Rituals – A visual essay on The Exterminating Angel and the dinner party on film by critic and writer Alexandra Heller-Nicholas (2024, 17 mins)
– Audio commentary on Viridiana by critic Michael Brooke (2024)
– Galleries including production and behind-the-scenes images
– Optional English subtitles for each film
– Reversible sleeves featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Sister Hyde
– Limited edition 80-page book featuring new writing by Glenn Kenny, Justine Smith, Lindsay Hallam and David Hering, as well as archive material
– Limited edition of 6000 copies, presented in a rigid box with full-height Scanavo cases and removable OBI strip leaving packaging free of certificates and markings
One of the numerous lengthy documentaries included in the set is a piece originally made for the BBC Arena series. This includes excerpts from Buñuel’s autobiography, interviews with famous collaborators and archival interviews with the director. It’s a wonderful documentary that covers the director’s life and work in great detail.
Anthony Wall also talks about the making of the Arena documentary in a separate interview. He describes Buñuel as being his ‘hero’ when he was younger, which is why he was keen to work on the film. He has some fascinating stories about the production.
There’s also another feature-length documentary included that runs through the filmmaker’s life and work, this time made in Spain, called ‘Buñuel: A Surrealist Filmmaker’. There’s a fair amount of crossover between this and the Arena film, and fewer of the big-name interviewees, but it’s a little more clearly focused and elegantly constructed. Like the Arena piece, it occasionally shows how some of Buñuel’s life experiences informed his films.
Also included is a 48-minute documentary about Buñuel, made not long after the release of The Exterminating Angel. I enjoyed this a great deal as it includes many excerpts of an interview with the director himself, who’s on top form. He tells his story with honesty and humour, alongside contributions from friends, family and people he worked with back then. It covers some similar ground to the other pieces but with a different slant, given the contributions are given straight from the horses’ mouths, so to speak, and less far removed from the period.
‘A Mexican Buñuel’ looks more particularly at the director’s work in Mexico. It opens with a handy whistle stop tour through Buñuel’s life before he, his wife and numerous other collaborators are interviewed (some in archival clips, others more recently) to talk about this interesting period of the filmmaker’s career.
Michael Brooke provides a commentary over Viridiana. He speaks quite quickly so that he can cram in as much information as possible. As such, his track is loaded with vital background details and in-depth analysis that never feels like he’s ‘reaching’. It’s delivered without feeling dry either, making for a listen that’s as enjoyable as it is illuminating.
Abraham Castillo Flores talks for 32 minutes about Buñuel’s Mexican films and particularly the trio included in this set. He opens by listing some of the filmmaker’s contradictions before describing the production backgrounds of the films here in great detail. Whilst there are several pieces that look at this period of his life, Flores manages to find plenty of details not included elsewhere, so I appreciated his input.
Lulu Wang talks about Viridiana in her 11-minute interview. She eloquently describes what she feels are Buñuel’s strength as a filmmaker. She also talks about why the film is still relevant and how it inspired her own work and outlook on life.
Alexandra Heller-Nicholas talks about the dinner party scenes in Buñuel’s films and how they might have helped inspire a number of similarly powerful sequences that followed.
Alex Cox provides a short introduction for The Exterminating Angel. As usual, he talks with passion and a strong knowledge of the subject matter.
Richard Ayoade talks for 15 minutes about Simon of the Desert, which is one of his favourite Buñuel films. He explains why this is the case with clarity and intelligence.
Guillermo Del Torro also talks about Buñuel’s Mexican films in a 19-minute interview. It’s a decent piece but I didn’t find it quite as engaging as some of the other extras here. I listened quite late on though so maybe I was getting Buñuel fatigue by this point.
Generally though, I found that the special features in the set helped me better appreciate what makes the films special. As such, it convinced me to upgrade my star ratings a fraction. I initially liked the films but wasn’t sure why. The extras helped unveil their depth and intelligence.
I didn’t receive a copy of the accompanying book to comment on that, unfortunately.
Radiance have compiled a superb collection of special features to accompany three excellent films. As such, I can’t recommend the set enough. In fact, I think I’d go as far to say as it’s easily one of the best Blu-ray releases of the year.
Discs/Package:
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