Before I Die #622: Limite (1931)

This was the 622nd film I've seen out of the 1,199 movies on the "Before you Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Translated English Title: Limit

Director: Mario Peixoto

An experimental, poetic film offering, I don't mind admitting that this one was a bit of a chore.

The "story" (a term which I use loosely) is that of three people - two women and one man - stuck on a small boat together, drifting on an unnamed body of water. The three are bedraggled and recollecting past moments in their lives. One woman is an escapee from a prison; the man's lover has died; and the third woman seems to have abandoned her husband. These stories are all told almost exclusively through slow, measured visuals, with very minimal dialogue. The characters have no names (they are credited only as "Man 1," Woman 1" and "Woman 2"), and no specific details as to time or place are offered. While the backstories of the characters are presented in what seems to be chronological order, even this is not completely clear, as several elements of the film are rather fluid.

Watching Limite was not unlike watching a couple of films from a little earlier in this era: the Bunuel and Dali collaborations Un Chien Andelous and L'Age d'Or. While Limite does not use anywhere near the amount of surrealism as either of those hallucinatory films, there is a dreamlike quality to it. There are plenty of long, slow shots of each of the three main characters as they stare into the distance and ponder their circumstances - circumstances which I could only assume are meant to represent more universal feelings of loss, longing, and desire. At times, I found the movie so measured in its pace that I was mentally drifting. Perhaps this is simply my late-20th/early 21st-century viewer's attention span at work, but I found that I wasn't being given quite enough narrative meat into which I could sink my teeth. The result was drifting attention.

There are plenty of scenes such as this - a lone figure, gazing
at the horizon, dwelling on some sort of existential crisis.

When things were in motion in the tale, however, there could be interesting aspects in terms of visual storytelling. I always appreciate any movie director who can tell stories without dialogue, and Limite shows this frequently. Granted, there's not exactly much of a "story," in the traditional sense. This isn't Sergio Leone brilliantly revealing characters' true natures through masterfully orchestrated, elaborate visual sequences. Rather, director Peixoto offers more subtle cues. A shared glance between people. A ring on a finger. A forlorn look at a tombstone. These moments are poignant and effective, even if less impactful because the characters are archetypes rather than "real" people.

For its time and place, it's easy to see why Limite made its mark. Like the aforementioned contemporary films by Bunuel and Dali, this was clearly meant as a work of art, rather than a mainstream story. It experimented with and pushed the boundaries of what the visual medium of film could do. For that, it is noteworthy, if not exactly enjoyable to watch for fans of more straightforward narratives.

That's 622 movies down. Only 577 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #619: L'Age d'Or (1930)

This is the 619th movie which I've now seen out of the 1,199 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through. 

"The Man" and "The Woman" - the archetypes who are mostly
at the center of this surreal film. This abandoned sucking of
each other's fingers is one of their many odd  and oft-
thwarted attempts at  finding sexual pleasure with each other

English Title: The Golden Age

Director: Luis Bunuel

Not long ago, I watched and reviewed the short silent film Un Chien Andelou, which was the work of the dynamically surreal dual minds of Spanish artists Luis Bunuel and Salvador Dali. It was every bit as challenging, bizarre, and unique as one would imagine. Well, a couple of years after that seminal piece of work, Dali and Bunuel collaborated again on L'Age d'Or, a longer film but one that still illustrates their hallucinogenic sensibilities.

Offering a summary of the movie is a tricky affair, given that it doesn't follow a traditional narrative structure. In general, though, it often follows a man and woman who are in love, or at least lust, and are constantly attempting to unite. To do so, they are often fighting against those who would keep them apart for various reasons - it may be a few police officers arresting one of them for unclear causes; it may be one's family and social circle placing demands upon their attentions; or it may be a government organization urging one of them to focus on a vague "mission" rather than individual desires. Details are never really given on any of these interactions, but the details are clearly not the point. In the end, the man is seen hurtling various objects out of a bedroom window, including pillow feathers, a burning tree, and religious icons. The entire story of the man and woman are bookended by first documentary footage on the behavior of scorpions, and in the end by an adapted depiction of the end of the Marquise de Saad's infamous novel 120 Days of Sodom.

I will admit that I wondered how well this film would be able to hold my attention for its 62-minute running time. Bunuel's and Dali's previous film, Un Chien Andelou, despite being only 28 minutes, was almost too mind-blowing and strange for me to maintain the intense focus it demands. In fact, L'Age d'Or is not quite as demanding, though it's certainly a challenging film. The fact that it does have a more accessible position as being anti-clerical and a reaction to right-wing, conservative values does make its through-line easier to follow. Of course, this is not to say that I was able to make heads or tails of every surreal image or sequence. Far from it. However, I was in the right state of mind to do some of the mental gymnastics required by such a movie.

An image early in the film of dead and decrepit leaders of the
Catholic church. This certainly implies the strong anti-Catholic
and anti-establishment message that Bunuel espoused. It also
got Catholics extremely angry, as one would imagine.

While the themes and strange narrative are obviously what set this movie apart, it is worth mentioning that the technical aspects of the movie are strong. Bunuel, who was barely 30 years old when he directed this film, already showed mastery of cinematic technique to convey his visions. As he had shown in Un Chien Andelou, he was completely at ease using overlap dissolve, an array of camera angles, fade outs, and all other sorts of film trickery to suggest narrative or thematic connections. Lovers of technique would likely enjoy the exercise of breaking down just what Bunuel was doing from scene to scene here.

For anyone considering this film, I would recommend taking the time for a second viewing with the audio commentary by Robert Short. Aside from an amusingly arrogant English accent, he offers some nice insight into the odder elements and unusual structure of the movie. He also offers some invaluable historical context about the time and place of the film's release, as well as its consequences for Bunuel. I don't often do audio commentaries, but for such an atypical movie, it can offer a nice education on the creators' visions and motivations.

That's 619 movies down. Only 580 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #606: An Andalusian Dog (1928)

This is the 606th movie I've watched from the "Before You Die" list which I'm working my way through.

Probably the most (in)famous scene from the film. Yes, that
is a straight razor in his hand, and yes, he's about to do what
you are afraid he's going to do with it.

Director: Luis Bunuel

If you know a little something about painting and/or film history, then the names "Salvador Dali" and "Luis Bunuel" ought to evoke notions of oddity, irreverance and surreality. And once you know that, you get some idea of what you're in for with An Andalusian Dog, a 20-minute short film conceived and written by Dali and Bunuel, and directed by the latter.

How does one describe the story, such as it is? Frankly, it's virtually impossible. I could give a detailed synopsis of what happens, but it would probably take no fewer than 5,000 words and far too much of your time. In very broad strokes, this 20-minute film short connects seemingly incongruous images, such as a woman having her eye cut open with a razor blade, (perhaps?) the same woman assisting a man semi-dressed as a clown who has had a bicycle accident outside of her apartment, a man with ants literally crawling out of his palm, and plenty of other strange and unsettling visuals. While it takes great imagination to even attempt to piece any of this together into any cohesive narrative, the one connecting factor may be that nearly all of the images are likely to unsettle a viewer in one way or another.

Need a mental workout? Just watch some images like a couple
of dead mules on tops of pianos and try to make heads or
tails of them. That's what this film has to offer.

My viewing experience was such that I was only glad that the film wasn't longer than 20 minutes. I simply don't know if my brain could have handled it. I don't mind strange and bizarre. I've watched, found merit in, and even enjoyed films by directors such as David Lynch and Lars Von Trier, two filmmakers unafraid to challenge audiences for a full 90 to 120 minutes. But An Andalusian Dog? It truly is the stuff of the human unconscious. It is no secret that Salvador Dali drew much inspiration for his surrealist painting and sculptures from his own dreams and hallucinations. This film is the movie picture version of just such visions. The movie has that typically dream-like quality where the connection between one moment, scene or sequence to the next is nearly impossible to predict. It might be a visual similarity, a random thought or impulse, or a loose word association. One could probably watch the movie a thousand times and come up with completely different interpretations every time, given the elemental nature of many of the images. However one does it, it is likely to tax your mind as it works to find some sort of meaning in it all. For such a strange work, more than 20 minutes would likely have been asking too much of most viewers, including myself.

I understand that this was probably one of the first well-respected surrealist films, and one that inspired many later filmmakers to break certain rules and conventions of cinematic storytelling. That stated, I can hardly say that I "enjoyed" this little film. I can appreciate its artistry and just how wildly imaginative it is, but I can't see myself going back to it unless it comes with a manual.

So that's now 606 movies down. Only 582 to go before I can die. 

Film #69: Le charme discret de la bourgeoisie (1972)

Title for us English-Speaking Types: The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie

Director: Luis Bunuel

Initial Release Country: France

Times Previously Seen: once (about 3 years ago)

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

Sextet of middle-classers try to get some grub repeatedly. Fail repeatedly. Have weird dreams between each failure.

Extended Summary (Slightly longer plot synopsis. Spoilers included. Fair warning.)

Actually, my little caveat above is more pointless than normal. It's all but impossible to “spoil” this movie, given the story.

In early 1970s Paris, four middle-aged, middle-class people arrive at a pleasant home for an evening dinner, only to surprise the supposed hostess, who tells the four that their dinner date is for the following evening. This also explains why the hostess' husband is not there. The five improvise and head out to a nearby inn for some dinner. Their effort is thwarted, however, when they enter the inn to find a funeral service being given for the recently-deceased owner.

The next day, the three men, two of them French government officials and the other a diplomat from a South American country, meet in the diplomat's office. The three are involved in drug smuggling. The two Frenchmen's wives and single sister-in-law are clueless to their doings.

Just one of the many soon-to-be interrupted attempts at dinner. If you look closely, you can almost see the arrogance and entitlement radiating off of all six of the "friends".

Over the next several days, the sextet repeatedly attempt to have a meal or a drink together, only to be thwarted at every turn. Whether they are in pairs, trios, or larger groups, every time they are about to be served, something interferes. Some interruptions are mundane: the first evening's schedule mix-up, or a restaurant being out of basically everything. Others are far more bizarre, such as being interrupted by strangely forthcoming soldiers barging in and unburdening themselves with odd tales. Still others take the form of dreams begun but unfulfilled.

Most of the six people get lost briefly in a dream of theirs. Some include the embarrassment of being caught on a theater stage, having forgotten one's lines. Others have dreams about being in a duel, or being arrested with all of their friends for their illegal drug smuggling. Whatever the dream or interruption, not one of the person's tales, or even tales within tales, is completed.

One of the more violent dream sequences, with the Senechal gunning down a man who has offended his honor.

Interspersed throughout the menagerie of unfulfilled narratives are occasional looks at the entire group of six, walking along a desolate road in the middle of the country, with no clear goal in sight.

I would offer a link to a more detailed, complete plot synopsis, but finding one it rather difficult. Read into that what you will.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Done after this most recent viewing of the film, before any research.)

When American comedians make fun of “weird European movies”, The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie is almost certainly what they have in mind. As you may be able to tell from my rather vague plot synopsis, this movie does not fit into any standard categories. There is no main story arc (aside from six people trying to get some food), and virtually no standard cohesion from one scene to the next. The mad hopping between dream sequences and quirky occurrences can be dizzying, and I think any viewer can be excused for uttering “Whaaahh...??” more than a few times while watching.

Did I like it? Actually, yeah. More or less.

I felt like I had a pretty good handle on what director Luis Bunuel was doing with this movie. I had seen it before, and I felt like I “got” the point. And then, after watching, my girlfriend articulated it far better than I could. She explained that she'd never seen a film that captured the “unfulfillment aspect” of dreams so well. Every single little story, of which there are no less than a dozen, leaves the viewer wanting, just as the characters in the movie are constantly left wanting. This is, for many people, much like their own dream experiences.

One of the more universal dream fears is revealed in the dinner-on-stage scene. The main players almost all flee due to self-consciousness or nervousness at having "forgotten their lines".

When dwelling on it, I can't help but compare it to a recent blockbuster film dealing with dreams, Inception. In that much more recent movie, the hyper-organized Christopher Nolan deals with the malleability of dreams, but keeps the story air tight, almost to the point of snapping the seams. In The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, Bunuel was clearly going for the true dream-like experience: the tighter you grasp for the meaning or a sense of closure, the more you're going to lose them. Once you figure this out, it's easier to sit back, stop wondering about the point, and enjoy the bizarre spectacle.

Lest you think the movie is just a cluster of peculiar scenes thrown against a wall, I need to clarify. There is a rather loose narrative that holds things together. The six middle-class main characters are rather self-absorbed and not exactly likable. For this reason, I didn't mind seeing them spun about and tormented by their own mildly warped circumstances or inner thoughts. It also brought to mind the wonderfully strange Flann O'Brien book, The Third Policeman. In it, a young thief and murderer is sent to hell, but doesn't know it. As things go from familiar to strange to absolutely torturous, he never realizes exactly where he is. Every time he comes close to getting a handle, the entire situation shifts, leaving him even more confused, frustrated, and dejected than before. Bunuel's film isn't as disturbing as all that, but the general feel is similar.

The film also keeps a nice level of humor throughout. The oddity of many of the situations is humorous, if in a wry way. More than this are the dead-pan performances of most of the cast. Weirdness is at its funniest when it's played straight, and the actors got it right on in this movie. This isn't a gut-busting, laugh-fest by any means. Still, I found plenty to smile and laugh at, from the attempts to eat plastic stage prop food in the “theater dream” scene, to the clever little evasions about exactly where the fictitious country “Miranda” really is, and even to the oddly open soldiers’ tellings of their private dreams. Added to it all is the acceptance of every other character of the quirkiness of all of these things.

The second of two wryly humorous scenes in which soldiers simply show up, interrupt, and tell bizarre tales about their own dreams of horror and death. A contrast with the pithy concerns of our egocentric sextet? Possibly.

This is yet another movie that you need to be in the right frame of mind to deal with. If you take each scene at a time and don’t attempt to judge the whole by the standards of most narrative films, you should find it enjoyable. I certainly did, though this isn’t a movie I see myself running back to anytime soon.

Take 2: Or, Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (Done after some further research on the movie):

In reading up on this film, I realize that my Take 1 missed mention of the obvious – the social commentary. This is not something that is difficult to miss in the film, though other commentators have done a far better job analyzing it than I could.

What gives The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie an even greater helping of food for thought is what gave most, if not all, of Luis Bunuel’s movies the same: the revelation of hypocrisy. I’ve only seen a few of his other films, but the theme is clearly there. Politeness, manners, and fashion are a thin façade behind which lurk the basest animal desires and fears. Lust, humiliation, and death are all represented in this movie, filtered through the self-interested viewpoints and subconscious of the main characters’ dreams. These things might be presented as horrifying by many other directors, but Bunuel always had a different approach.

The Senechal, almost escaping notice and capture, reveals his own presence to the police by reaching out a taking a sandwich from the table. One example of some common visual humor blended into other moments of a dryer comic type.

In this review of the film, Roger Ebert does a nice job explaining some of the subtleties of Bunuel’s themes, and how he used humor to reveal the human psyche. The interesting thing to me is that Bunuel never really took a side in his commentaries on social classes. His works seemed to attempt to reveal the hypocrisies at work in all people. Some of these revelations are humorous, while some can be highly disturbing.

In this 1973 essay by Carlos Fuentes (done shortly after the release of Discreet Charm), a much broader and deeper look is taken into Bunuel’s life’s work up to that point. It’s an interesting read, in which Fuentes ties together not only the themes mentioned by Ebert, but also the visual techniques that Bunuel employed to convey his messages as an artist. It’s a good little read for anyone who has seen a handful or more of Bunuel’s films.

After this reviewing of the movie and a little bit of research, it is now no surprise to me why The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie is on the TIME 100 list. It truly is a different species of film, and piece of art that may very well be a part of the artistic landscape for decades, if not centuries, to come. Like an abstract Picasso painting, you may not always “understand” every little thing about it, but it certainly does catch the eye and stimulate the mind.

That’s a wrap. 69 shows down. 36 to go.

Coming Soon: Aguirre, The Wrath of God (1973):

Another one that I watched a number of years ago, but probably didn’t appreciate very much. I’ve come to like Werner Herzog quite a bit, so I expect to get more out my second viewing of this early work of his.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.