Luis Buñuel’s 1962 feature has inspired debate and discussion for more than a half-century. It would not be rude to say that it could also inspire impatience and boredom.
The film opens during the preparations for a dinner party at a luxurious mansion, but something is amiss. The kitchen and serving staff begin making odd excuses to hurriedly exit the residence ahead of the party, with only a chief butler agreeing to stay. While the bourgeois guests of the party, resplendent in tuxedos and evening gowns, enjoy the meal and the after-dinner conversation and piano recital in the mansion’s music room, they curiously decline to leave for their own homes. Instead, the guests opt to spend the night sleeping on the chairs and floor of the music room. In the morning, they consume what little is left of the previous night’s food, but inexplicably stay in the music room, unable to explain why they cannot leave the space. Days start to drag on as hunger and illness wear away at the guests, who resort to breaking through a wall to gain access to a water pipe. Outside of the mansion, police and curious crowds look in on the trapped individuals, but some odd force is also keeping them from entering the residence.
What does it all mean? Buñuel was evasive when pressed for an explanation, and even his cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa openly questioned the director’s judgment in endless repetitions of sequences. Buñuel’s trademark surrealism flashes in bizarre segments, including a disembodied hand’s journey out of a closet and the parade of sheep into the room where the starving guests are inexplicably imprisoned.
Viewed today, the film feels like an overextended “Twilight Zone” episode, but the unpleasantness of the central characters – boorish when things are going normally, vicious when things go awry – becomes a chore. And, frankly, Buñuel doesn’t effectively capture the claustrophobia and misery of the captives – the acting is mostly adequate or worse, and the cutaways to the outside world looking in on this mysterious situation further dilutes the drama. Swipes at Catholicism, Judaism and Masonic tenets leave a sour taste, and the director also conveniently fails to provide a clue on what doubles as bathroom facilities.
Skepticism on the film’s value was present from its creation: it took five years from its Cannes premiere before getting a U.S. theatrical release, and only then via a minor distribution company. Sadly, this is one film where time has been too generous in boosting a wobbly reputation.