Luis Bunuel Season

Ha ha, bet you didn't see this one coming! Nobody expects the Spanish surrealist! But yes folks, your eyes do not decieve you, for the next few posts at least, I'll be leaving behind the vagaries of Hollywood blockbusters and getting stuck into a mini-retrospective of one of the supposed giants of cinema: Luis Buñuel.

Bunuel was a controversial film-maker at a time when the medium was still brand new and full of limitless possibilities. (This was years before Jerry Bruckheimer was born, you see.) Born in Spain in 1900, he studied film in Paris in the 1920's where he met and befriended a certain Salvador Dali, with whom he collaborated on his first feature, the controversial-to-this-day 'Un Chien Andalou'. Although it was made in 1928, the image of the human eyeball being dissected by a razor is one that still retains the power to shock to this day. In 1928, however, this must have been truly mind-blowing stuff.

Bunuel's early surrealist style eschewed the cinematic rulebook. In his very early work, plot, character, narrative, all went out the window. However, giving prime billing to the slashing of the eyeball in the opening moments of his first feature was no haphazard happening. Rather, it was Bunuel's statement of intent. He and his collaborators - incuding Dali - believed that the visual medium of film had the possibility to expand the horizons of the viewer, by showing them things they had never seen before, and indeed, had never even dreamed possible.

However, Bunuel continued to make more commercial films than these over a long career that spanned more than 50 years. Perhaps best known for 'Belle de Jour', featuring the smouldering Catherine Deneuve at the peak of her powers, Bunuel's later career is peppered with movies that many contemporary cinematic greats claim for inspiration, including Martin Scorcese, who resurrected 'Belle de Jour' from distribution limbo in 1996.

Bunuel's later style is generally associated with a broad imagination, a wicked sense of humoour, and most importantly, some entertainint yarns. I'll be focussing on his later movies in this mini-retrospective, and will start with a provocatively named little comedy named 'The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie'.

Be warned folks, I'm entering uncharted territory myself here. But leave down that Transformers Dvd for a moment and please join me throughout this little time out from the multiplex fodder. Don't worry, I'll not be stroking my chin in pseudo-artistic appreciation of some director who is known only by his surname, the same rules as always will apply to these reviews as the rest. Hopefuly by the end of all this we'll have a verdict as to whether Luis Bunuel genuinely deserves the praise heaped on him, and most importantly, whether his movies are worth watching. Right, now where did I put my lobster telephone?