Un Chien Andalou (Classic Film Series #1)

The entire short film “Un Chien Andalou” is available for viewing at http://www.ubu.com/film/bunuel.html

When I was in school, we had a constant running debate about the interpretation of any work. Was it important to seek the author’s intent, or was any interpretation, as long as you could support it from the text, a valid one, even if the author would disagree? Who “owns” the interpretation of the work, the author, or the interpreter? It’s a debate with many twists and turns, complexities, and caveats, and it can go on and on. If you’re into that kind of thing, add a bottle of wine, and it’s a great way to wile away an uneventful evening.

“Un Chien Andalou” steps squarely into that debate. This surrealist short film, a collaboration of Luis Bunuel and Salvador Dali, is at times shocking, strange, and funny. One of the most famous images is the slitting of an eyeball with a razorblade; the eyeball appears to belong to a young woman but was in fact a calf’s eye. Then there is the man pulling the pianos with the dead donkeys on top of them, priests, and stone tablets attached to the ropes he’s pulling. And the books that turn into guns. And the half-buried living statues. And so on.

“Un Chien Andalou” is the quintessential Surrealist film, created by Luis Bunuel and Salvador Dali. Dali would become famous for paintings like “The Persistence of Memory,” and Bunuel for movies like “The Discreet Charm of the Bouergoesie.” But this was before the fame, when they were both just out of college. They moved to Paris and joined the Surrealist movement, started by Man Ray, which posited that most of the problems of the world were due to an excess of rational thought.

The thing about “Un Chien Andalou,” and in general Surrealism as a whole, is that it tries hard to be irrational, meaningless, and shocking, but never quite succeeds. According to its makers, “Un Chien Andalou” has no interpretation, and all attempts to “read” it are wrong. The images mean nothing, they’re just randomly assembled from the artists’ imaginations. Bunuel would throw out an idea, Dali would agree or disagree, then Dali would throw out an idea. It was necessary that there be no connection, no plausible storyline in the film, no reason for one thing to come after another. This is perhaps most obviously illustrated by the time-change titles: suddenly it’s “eight years later” or “sixteen years earlier,” even though the scene doesn’t change.

The problem is, the images appear to have significance; there seems to be a story, if you could just figure out what it was about. “Un Chien Andalou” sits in front of you and cries out for interpretation. I’ve seen music videos that make less sense than this film(which is barely longer than a music video.) David Lynch movies make less sense, and they have interpretations.

So we return to where we started: is there a correct interpretation for “Un Chien Andalou,” even if Bunuel and Dali insist there isn’t? Do they get the last word? I would argue – as I did as a senior English major – that any interpretation which takes into account all of the facts of the film is a valid interpretation. Whatever makes sense to you, be it the Freudian, Jungian, or your own, is the right one. The last word is in the viewer’s hands, or eyes, as it may be. After all, it was your viewing experience. Make of it what you will.

Having said that, I offer no interpretation. My own is my own. And truly, there are not many movies — of any length — which off the viewer this kind of experience, and this freedom to make sense of the movie as they will. Because of that, it’s worth watching.

Is it great because it’s important? Yes, but not for the usual reasons.   It would be hard to point out any way “Un Chien Andalou” really influenced any mainstream film that came later.   But it’s important because it’s Surrealist art – and thus one of the first real attempts to make art, not entertainment, with a movie camera.

Is it great because it’s fun to watch? No.  This is a film for art lovers, not movie lovers.   At twenty minutes long, it can hardly even be considered a “movie,” by most standards.   And the experience of watching it is one of confusion, shock, and maybe even horror.   More to be talked about than to be watched.