by Allan Fish
(France 1928 17m) DVD1/2
Aka. An Andalusian Dog
Razorblades and donkeys
p Luis Buñuel d/w Luis Buñuel, Salvador Dali ph Albert Dubergen ed Luis Buñuel m “Liebestod” from “Tristan und Isolde” by Richard Wagner and Argentinian Tango (1960 release), Mauricio Kagel (1983 reissue) art Schilzneck
Pierre Batcheff, Simone Mareuil, Jaime Miravilles, Luis Buñuel, Salvador Dali, Jeanne Rucas,
When I came to begin writing this series of reviews, I was asked by one of my fellow cineastes which of my selection I was least looking forward to reviewing. I was able to answer without hesitation, Un Chien Andalou. I was never in doubt as to its inclusion, but the fact is that Buñuel’s film is, without a shadow of a doubt, the most meaningless ever made. Man Ray and Maya Deren may have made their lion’s share of baffling cinema, as Buñuel would go on to do himself, but nothing comes close to the bafflement of Buñuel’s first film as sole director (he’d previously co-directed The Fall of the House of Usher in 1928 with Jean Epstein).
As to the plot, your guess is as good as mine. We start with a man preparing, or so it seems, to shave, only for him to slice open a woman’s eyeball instead, which sets the tone nicely for the casual physical and emotional violence to come. Totally bizarre surrealist images follow in their droves; ants come out of a stigmata like hole in a man’s hand, a man dressed in a maid’s outfit, or something resembling one, cycles home, only to crash on the kerb; a boyish young woman plays with a severed hand in the street before being run over; a man feels up a woman’s breasts under her dress, only for the dress to disappear showing him gripping her naked breasts, then the dress reappears, then disappears again, this time revealing a naked bottom; a man pulls two priests across a room, who in turn are tied to two grand pianos, one of which is topped by a dead donkey; a caption comes up reading “sixteen years ago”, only for us to see the same room and scene, but with the same man stood with himself in different clothes; a woman sees a death’s head moth, then a man loses his mouth, then her underarm hair covers his mouth; lovers walk along the seashore, then later they are seen seemingly dead buried up to their waists in the sand. And that’s about it, I think.
Buñuel’s eye never waivers, but one cannot help the feeling that many people would see his pure surrealism as just a series of random cuts between totally irrelevant scenes with irrelevant characters in impossible situations with not one jot of reality in it. Of course that’s half the point the surrealists were trying to make, and certainly Buñuel’s surrealism was at its most undiluted in his two early films with Salvador Dali (the other being L’Age d’Or). Buñuel’s later films were undoubtedly more sophisticated and biting, and more unquestionably cinematic, but all the later Buñuel’s are, to some degree at least, diluted. That is not to decry the merits of other classics included in this list (Belle de Jour, The Exterminating Angel and Viridiana, to name but three), but though they may represent Buñuel the film director at his peak, Buñuel the surrealist artist was at his peak in his early work. Un Chien Andalou may have nothing to do with conventional narrative or acting or even direction, but the look of the film haunts the eye, the editing is somehow controlled in its seeming randomness and scenes and images from this film not only influenced cinema surrealism and fantasy for years to come, but also remain with anyone who has seen them. The choice of music could not be more diametrically apart either, a tango on one part and his beloved Wagner Liebestod on the other. They are wholly inappropriate and, thus, perfectly ideal for the statement Buñuel was making. Frankly, though, it’s hard to believe Buñuel was making a statement; he may just have been having a joke with the cinema intelligentsia. Its influence was plain on Man Ray’s Les Mystères du Chateau du Dé, but it’s best remembered as cinema’s purest experiment with chaos theory. On that level, it’s mesmerising.
I can not think of this film without this coming to mind:
got me a movie
i want you to know
slicing up eyeballs
i want you to know
girlie so groovy
i want you to know
don’t know about you
but i am un chien andalusia
wanna grow
up to be
be a debaser, debaser
got me a movie
ha ha ha ho
slicing up eyeballs
ha ha ha ho
girlie so groovie
ha ha ha ho
don’t know about you
but i am un chien andalusia
debaser
God bless this film, and God bless the Pixies.
Here it is. My number 1 film of the poll. What a film! What a way to publish an agenda! Top stuff, Allan.
“…the white eyelid of the screen need only reflect the light that is its own to blow up the universe….”
One of the great directorial debuts by one of the greatest and most thought provoking directors who ever lived with the help of one of the most important painters of the 20th century. Most preferred the second outing the two artists did together, L’Âge d’or, but Un Chien Andalou will forever be their greatest work together. It remains one of the most controversial films of all time, and it’s not hard to tell why right from the opening sequence (arguably the most iconic of any film ever made). This is a film that can’t be forgotten when talking about avant-garde films or important films or even great pop culture references. I’d argue it’s place on this list, but as you might have guessed from the absence of my input during the countdown, I haven’t seen many silent films. But anyways, great essay Allan and all hail the Pixies.
Mention Man Ray, and this is the only one that, crazy as it seems, I have seen, quite awhile back……………
BTW, here you go:
http://www.zappinternet.com/video/danPvuMpaX/Un-chien-Andalou-1928
Cheers and Thanks for the introduction to all the previous Silents, it’s been an interesting learning experience!
Cheers!
I think I have mentioned this before in another context, but it bears repeating. The surrealists were not so much into ‘meaningless’ narrative, but a subversion of narrative.
The best exposition of this idea I have read is by James Naremore, in his foreword to the English translation of A Panorama of American Film Noir 1941-1953 by Frenchmen Borde and Chaumeton (2002), where Naremore relates a fascinating insight by the translator of the book, Paul Hammond, which while not directly referencing Un Chien Andolou, does provide an analytical framework (my emphasis):
“during the years immediately after the First World War, the original Surrealists used movies as an instrument for the overthrow of bourgeois taste and the desublimatlon of everyday life. Engaging in what Hammond describes as ‘an extremely Romantic project’ and an ‘inspired salvage operation’, [Andre] Breton and his associates would randomly pop in and out of fleapit theaters for brief periods of time, sampling the imagery and writing lyrical essays about their experiences. Like everyone in the historical avant-garde, they were captivated by modernity, but they particularly relished the cinema because it was so productive of the ‘marvelous’ and so like a waking dream. Willfully disrupting narrative continuities, they savored the cinematic mise-en-scene, which functioned as a springboard for their poetic imagination; and out of the practice they developed what Louis Aragon called a ‘synthetic’ criticism designed to emphasize the latent, often libidinal implications of individual shots or short scenes. Even when cinema became too expensive for Breton’s style of serial viewing, it remained the fetishistic medium par excellence. At certain moments, even in ordinary genre films or grade-B productions. It could involuntarily throw off bizarre images, strange juxtapositions, and erotic plays of light and shadow on human bodies, thus providing an opportunity for the audience to break free of repressive plot conventions and indulge in private fantasies.”
Tony thanks for this passage, I really enjoyed this.
I was never a surrealist fan, as I didn’t like many of the painters operating in that genre. As I get older I watch more Surrealist films and read more Surrealist literature/poetry and I like it. I like it quite a bit. Currently I am reading Gerard de Nerval’s short novella ‘Aurelia’ which I think is fantastic. Then from time to time I read a poem or two form Paul Eluard’s ‘Capital of Pain’ (after seeing it referenced in Godard’s ‘Alphaville’), which I just bought. It’s great too.
Never thought I’d be a fan. Are you familiar with either?
Jamie, your erudition is much wider than mine! I will see if I can get hold of any ebooks.
I was wondering when this one would show up!
Alan, one thing you were amiss to mention…the use of Wagner’s “Tristan and Isolde” music. I thought that was a brilliant component to the film.
Also, I thought this had a fairly clear narrative: A man murders his wife after he finds out she has been cheating on him. He then proceeds to go mad over what he has done and the fact that he got away with it…and this “film” is a testament to his ongoing nightmare where his guilt devours him and the only person he can ultimately find to punish him is himself.
Or maybe I’m reading into this colored by Lynch and I’m way off base.
David your need for a narrative is the point – there is no narrative, no narrative, no narrative.. flogging a dead donkey will not fix your piano and two priests are as good as one, or an arse in the flesh is worth two breasts in the hand.
You know, I was reading this essay with “Debaser” running through my head, and then I see that Jamie beat me to the reference. I’ll really always associate this movie with that song.
Anyway, I agree that this film is great despite (or because of) being completely non-representational and “meaningless.” Sure, there are ways you could interpret it, conceivably, but that’s sort of beside the point. But then, there are plenty of great meaningless films; what does Stan Brakhage’s Arabic Series “mean,” other than abstracted fragments of light and color? Bunuel’s two surrealist films with Dali are thus much more in the lineage of the avant-garde than anything else he’d do later in his career.
Awful film, in my opinion, and it’s a shame to see it ahead of masterful films such as The Kid and Strike.
You’ll have to excuse me, but with all due respect how pray tell to you find UN CHIEN ANDALOU as an “awful” film? It’s one of expressionist cinema’s greatest masterpieces, and it was directed by one of the form’s true masters. You’ll have to do better than that. Yeah you stand alone, but that’s OK, providing you can make even a remotely presentable case. Geez.
I haven’t seen any other Bunuel so can’t comment on his usual skill as director (a lot of his stuff looks very good), but I love Dali’s work. Why? Because it’s fascinating surrealism, unusual, colourful, and thought-provoking. Un chien andalou is “ooh, let’s put our dreams on the screen to shock people”.
No offence, just my opinion.
This is close to being my favorite short film of all time, that is in a world were ‘L’Age D’Or’ wasn’t Buñuel next film. I enjoy this little weirdness, it has the just enough amount of Freudian guilt and imagery for you to wonder and wonder what it all means, just to find yourself that it doesn’t really matter. This short film has the most impressive imagery on film ever, given the runtime, and the music of Piazzola is just top notch.