Luis Buñuel

[MichaelB]

Viridiana isn’t Mexican.

[TechnicolorAcid]

I assume he got confused because it’s also a Spanish Buñuel, just from Spain.

[hearthesilence]

I was thrown by its inclusion in the program as well (and apparently the last screening was on Saturday so sorry to say it won't be repeated), but per MoMA's website, it's been tagged as a Spanish and Mexican production ("Spain/Mexico"). In the description it says:

"In 1960, Buñuel accepted General Franco’s offer to make a film in Spain for the first time since his exile in the 1930s, and of course he repaid him by creating the most violent assault on the institutions of his native country imaginable. The Mexican star Siliva Pinal (the film was produced by her husband, Gustavo Alatriste) plays the title character, a novice nun who is summoned to the country home of her reclusive uncle (Fernando Rey, in his first appearance for Buñuel)."

So I'm guessing Pinal and Alatriste (along with other factors their involvement brought in) likely made the difference.

[ianthemovie]

I would love for that to be enough to justify including an upgrade of Viridiana in a forthcoming Bunuel in Mexico box, though sadly I doubt it will happen.

[hearthesilence]

I haven't looked into it, but given that Viridiana has now been show in 35mm in two different programs dominated by DCP's of new 4K restorations, I'm guessing a suitable restoration/transfer hasn't been done yet. So even if they wanted to squeeze it in, it's probably best that they leave it out and release it on its own once a new 4K restoration has been completed.

[sabbath]

Viridiana isn’t Mexican.

I assume he got confused because it’s also a Spanish Buñuel, just from Spain.

I was thrown by its inclusion in the program as well (and apparently the last screening was on Saturday so sorry to say it won't be repeated), but per MoMA's website, it's been tagged as a Spanish and Mexican production ("Spain/Mexico"). In the description it says:

"In 1960, Buñuel accepted General Franco’s offer to make a film in Spain for the first time since his exile in the 1930s, and of course he repaid him by creating the most violent assault on the institutions of his native country imaginable. The Mexican star Siliva Pinal (the film was produced by her husband, Gustavo Alatriste) plays the title character, a novice nun who is summoned to the country home of her reclusive uncle (Fernando Rey, in his first appearance for Buñuel)."

So I'm guessing Pinal and Alatriste (along with other factors their involvement brought in) likely made the difference.

The first two opening credits say:

UNA PRODUCCION ESPAÑOLA
DE
UNINCI S.A.

EN COPRODUCCION
CON
GUSTAVO ALATRISTE P.C.
DE MEXICO

Silvia Pinal was not just the star and (the wife of) a financier but the major driving force behind the project. According to her interview on the Criterion DVD:

I met Ernesto Alonso, and he suggested we go talk to Buñuel about working together. I wanted to work with him. He said, "Let's go together." When we got there, I said, "I want to make a movie with you." "Silvia, you know I don't do commercial films." "I don't care. You're an extraordinary and talented director with an important body of work. I'd love to work with you." He said, "It's just so happens I'm adapting a story." This was 1950-something. He said, "I'm adapting a story called Tristana. You two would be just right for it." I loved the idea. I'd read the book. So we began looking for a producer among those who'd worked with Buñuel: Barbachano, Clasa Films, Gelman. "No, we never make any money with him." "We made a film with him years ago and didn't earn a penny." None of them would do it. Imagine: Ernesto and I could have been in Tristana, a wonderful film. So that's how I met Buñuel and how he found out I wanted to work with him.

Gustavo came into my life first. Actually, I met him at Ernesto Alonso's house. We made a life together for about two years. He'd tell me, "You've helped me so much. Tell me how I can help you." I said, "I've always wanted to work with Buñuel." And that's how those two came to work together. I introduced Gustavo around in Spain, where he and I were traveling. I told Francisco Rabal, with whom I'd worked before, "We'd like to meet with Don Luis. Do you know where he is?" "Yes, I have an appointment with him today at the Hotel Plaza." So we agreed to meet there that evening. We arrived to find Don Luis surrounded by admirers. He said, "Silvia! What are you doing here?" "Don Luis, this is my husband, Gustavo Alatriste." "Pleased to meet you." I said, "I'm sorry to barge in, but remember how I wanted to work with you? I still do. Let's make a movie together." He said, "But you have no producer." I said, "Yes, I do. My husband." And he says, "What does he do?" "He deals in furniture." "Furniture? Then why produce a film with me? He won't make a cent." "Because he loves me." "Ah, I see." He understood the situation. And that's when we began thinking about making a film.

So Gustavo started seeing who they could work with. But Buñuel said, "No, as long as Franco is alive, I won't work in Spain. My personal life there goes on, but I won't work there." Gustavo said, "We'll work with whomever you want. In any case, we need the name of a Spanish producer. Why don't you suggest someone?" "Well, if I were to do it, I'd want to work with Bardem, Berlanga, Muñoz Suay or Domingo González. They're all leftists like myself."

...

After Viridiana won the Palme d'Or, L'Osservatore Romano, the Vatican newspaper, called it "sacrilegious," along with another film from Cannes that hadn't won the Palme d'Or. So Franco was fiercely attacked, since he'd allowed it to be made. The anit-Franco clergy made problems for him. The matter grew so serious that Franco ordered absolutely everything burned that had anything to do with the making of the film. So I went to Paris and got the dubbed master, took it out of the cans, put it in plastic bags, and personally carried it back to Mexico. That's how we saved a copy for ourselves. But the Spaniards did the same thing in Madrid. They buried it on Domingo González's farm, where it would have been very difficult to find. So in theory everything having to do with Viridiana disappeared.

But what happened during those ten years was extraordinary. It had no country of origin and couldn't be sold, because it had no import permit for any country. It was shown in cellars and on hillsides. In Italy they showed it on one of the seven hills. The police came along and confiscated the print, because what they were doing wasn't legal. But after many years and great expense, and with a team of French lawyers, we won, and finally, ten years later, Viridiana was declared, to be of Mexican origin.

[hearthesilence]

Awesome. (Obviously, I don't own the DVD - been holding out for a Blu-ray.) Thanks sabbath!

[hearthesilence]

Had a surreal moment where I spotted Meryl Streep at MoMA (after the museum itself was already closed) thinking, "holy shit, don't tell me she's here for Buñuel in Mexico???" and of course she had her own private event, apparently a 40th anniversary screening of Sophie's Choice.

Robinson Crusoe was listed as a DCP, but I'm still not entirely sure if they actually screened an imperfect 35mm print or scanned a far-from-ideal print and left much of it as-is. If this is the best that's out there, then someone really needs to restore this film soon. The color was okay, not great, and while scratches and blemishes were definitely there, to me that wasn't a major issue. The worst was really the sound - if you were to take a spoken word recording and dub it down through, say, twenty or thirty generations of analog tape while really working the Dolby noise reduction to prevent the tape hiss from piling up, that's the sound you get from this print. It was really difficult making out most of the dialogue, to the point where nearly all the jokes went unnoticed even though visually you can tell they had set one up going by the reaction shots. I gave up on trying early on, and thankfully for a film like this, you didn't need a lot of the narration to understand what was going on, especially if you know the book.

EDIT: Shout! is actually streaming it - I don't remember whatever MoMA's screening having skies that are quite as blown out, but regardless, it's true HD, sounds MUCH better, and it's clearly had none of the film grain scrubbed away...unfortunately for some boneheaded reason, they've actually cropped it to an incorrect aspect ratio, and they blatantly acknowledge that in the opening credits when they have to superimpose a card in the correct aspect ratio in order to display everything in full. Really half-assed...not a great way to see this, but unfortunately, it may still be the "best" way as other sources found online look much more inferior in terms of overall picture quality.

A very good film, it may not be one of Buñuel's greats, but he still does an excellent job, and it seems virtually impossible for him not to leave some distinguished mark of greatness. (Once again, he manages to seamlessly integrate a dream sequence that not only works for the plot but gives him the opportunity to let his imagination run wild.) It occurred to me that the most striking images (and sounds) come when the character is pushed to yearn or crave something, whether it's companionship after solitude drives him closer to madness, water from thirst (not just from a character's subjectivity but also in reality, with a spider being poured out of an empty cup) or hunger (what looks like slices of bread or toast floating along the water). Even sexual impulses come up in two memorable and hilarious moments.

More important is the sociopolitical implications of the story, one of Buñuel's greatest strengths as an artist - he knows how to faithfully translate key sections of the novel in a way that also puts over his own interpretation of the story's implications. While a lot of the film obviously emphasizes that this is the era of slavery, some of it feels unsettling in how it relates to today - Crusoe's concern for his own personal safety has implications for how Friday is treated as a human being, and at least a couple of moments feel like they disturbingly echo the remarks I've heard from my own associates defending Netanyahu's administration's actions against Palestine (not just in recent months but the policies over the last decade that inevitably led to the violent outcome that grows by the day).

Apparently Buñuel insisted on Dan O'Herlihy while the producers were pushing hard for Orson Welles, and while Welles will always mean the world to me, O'Herlihy was probably the far better choice for this role, especially given how physically taxing it might have been.

[Maltic]

Nicolas Rapold talks to Dave Kehr about the MOMA series

[domino harvey]

Apparently Buñuel insisted on Dan O'Herlihy while the producers were pushing hard for Orson Welles, and while Welles will always mean the world to me, O'Herlihy was probably the far better choice for this role, especially given how physically taxing it might have been.

Finally caught up with this one and sadly have to say it is easily the worst Bunuel I've seen. I guess I spent so much of my life knowing the basics of the plot that it somehow never got to me until watching this that these are the adventures of a colonialist slaver whose first instinct when "civilizing" his native companion is to have him address him as "Master", among other delights. I also found O'Herlihy's performance impressively bad, and I cannot fathom how he managed to garner a Best Actor Oscar nom for his work here. Over half of the movie is O'Herlihy annoyingly over-emoting while he narrates his own telegraphed actions, and he does nothing here that any other c-string studio player couldn't likewise do (and probably do better)