DIRECTOR: Luis BuñuelWRITER: Luis Buñuel, Salvador Dali
I first heard about Un chien andalou while reading "Entertainment Weekly's" Cult Movies issue. I was intrigued to read that a movie made in 1929 contained such things as eyeballs being slit open and a woman being forcefully molested. So, obviously, I was intrigued. But it took me a while to actually get ahold of a copy of the film (watch it here). After actually watching the 15-minute-long movie, I couldn't believe what I had just watched.
Don't get me wrong though, I wasn't in awe of it or anything. I just really didn't know what in the bloody hell I had just watched. I was disappointed at first, but then I realized who I was dealing with: Salvador Dali.
After Dali crossed my mind, I thought back to those far-off days of high school Art Appreciation class, and the unit on abstract expressionism. I'd always been fascinated with abstract art, and one of my favorite films of all-time is the German expressionistic masterpiece The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. But when Mr. Hunt flashed Dali across the screen, I was blown away. Not because I'd realized any personal significance from viewing his pieces, but because of the sheer pointlessness of the absolutely horrid imagery in his work. I loved it.
With that in my mind, I realized that, for all of its grotesque, meaningless visuals, Un chien andalou is a masterpiece of moving picture art that only Dali (along with Director Luis Buñuel) could have done. If for no other reason than that, this film should be viewed by everyone who posesses even a passing interest in the history of film.
Don't let anyone try and tell you that this film means anything at all. Buñuel himself has said that the film meant absolutely nothing except that it was the visual realization of dreams he and Dali had discussed together. In other words, don't let artistic philosophers innundate you with the "dragging the pianos represents the struggle of man" bullshit. Kick them in the nuts, and tell them that, instead of worrying about opening their minds so much, they should learn to open their eyes every once in a while.
Sorry for the above rant. Those type of people really "grind my gears", in the immortal words of Peter Griffin.
For those of you who are interested in checking this out, but want to have a good idea of what you're getting into first, here's a good example: ever see the video from The Ring (the Japanese and American versions)? Well, imagine watching a fifteen-minute-long version of it. I hope that doesn't completely turn you off, because Un chien andalou is well worth the time.
STARRING: Pierre Batchef, Simonne Mareuil
When you do a movie review, this is the spot usually reserved for a plot synopsis. To try and do one for Un chien andalou would be an act of extreme futility.
I first heard about Un chien andalou while reading "Entertainment Weekly's" Cult Movies issue. I was intrigued to read that a movie made in 1929 contained such things as eyeballs being slit open and a woman being forcefully molested. So, obviously, I was intrigued. But it took me a while to actually get ahold of a copy of the film (watch it here). After actually watching the 15-minute-long movie, I couldn't believe what I had just watched.
Don't get me wrong though, I wasn't in awe of it or anything. I just really didn't know what in the bloody hell I had just watched. I was disappointed at first, but then I realized who I was dealing with: Salvador Dali.
After Dali crossed my mind, I thought back to those far-off days of high school Art Appreciation class, and the unit on abstract expressionism. I'd always been fascinated with abstract art, and one of my favorite films of all-time is the German expressionistic masterpiece The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. But when Mr. Hunt flashed Dali across the screen, I was blown away. Not because I'd realized any personal significance from viewing his pieces, but because of the sheer pointlessness of the absolutely horrid imagery in his work. I loved it.
With that in my mind, I realized that, for all of its grotesque, meaningless visuals, Un chien andalou is a masterpiece of moving picture art that only Dali (along with Director Luis Buñuel) could have done. If for no other reason than that, this film should be viewed by everyone who posesses even a passing interest in the history of film.
Don't let anyone try and tell you that this film means anything at all. Buñuel himself has said that the film meant absolutely nothing except that it was the visual realization of dreams he and Dali had discussed together. In other words, don't let artistic philosophers innundate you with the "dragging the pianos represents the struggle of man" bullshit. Kick them in the nuts, and tell them that, instead of worrying about opening their minds so much, they should learn to open their eyes every once in a while.
Sorry for the above rant. Those type of people really "grind my gears", in the immortal words of Peter Griffin.
For those of you who are interested in checking this out, but want to have a good idea of what you're getting into first, here's a good example: ever see the video from The Ring (the Japanese and American versions)? Well, imagine watching a fifteen-minute-long version of it. I hope that doesn't completely turn you off, because Un chien andalou is well worth the time.
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