Showing posts with label General Franco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label General Franco. Show all posts

Monday, 23 September 2024

Sixty Years of International Art Cinema 1960-2020 - Bruce Hodsdon continues his series - 6 (32) Luis Bunuel in the 60s

Portrait of Luis Bunuel by Salvador Dali
                                                                           

Luis Buñuel (1900-83) maintained that his Jesuit education and surrealism marked him for life.This was fully apparent in the two films from his middle filmmaking phase in Mexico (1946-58) merging with the final European phase in the 'full maturity' of his filmmaking (1959-77). The saintly defrocked priest in Nazarin (1958) about whom Bunuel reflected, “that the absolutely pure Christian is condemned to defeat in this world” yet his Christianity is ultimately self justifying. In Viridiana (1961), on which for the first time since L'age d'or(1930) Bunuel had complete freedom in its realisation, Nazarin's counterpart, a young nun, full of charity, kindness and idealistic illusion about humanity, is confronted with the notorious beggars' orgy, a burlesque on the Last Supper to the strains of Handel's 'Hallelujah Chorus', one of Buñuel's most mordant pieces of religious parody. Yet, in the face of her total defeat, Viridiana remains ambiguously poised in resignation.

In 1938 the sudden end of the Civil War in Spain found Buñuel unexpectedly stranded in New York where he was on a diplomatic mission for the just overthrown Republican government.  He was   offered a largely administrative job in New York with some curatorial work in the Film Department of the Museum of Modern Art. He finally ended up in Hollywood 1944-6 where he was put on a 2 year contract by Warner Bros, to dub films into Spanish and as an occasional consultant on other people's films for two years (most notably on Robert Florey's The Beast with Five Fingers).  

The majority of his Mexican films were made from scripts not of Buñuel’s choosing, genre films shot mostly on three week schedules – melodramas and comedies, even a musical. Oscar Dancigers who produced nine of the Mexican films nevertheless promised him a free hand on every third feature if he kept costs down. One of Buñuel’s most personal films, El, was the result of this arrangement. He was able to form close partnerships with two writers Luis Alcoriza (for seven films) and Julio Alejandro for three Mexican films (and later Tristana). He invariably had a hand in shaping the screenplay and claimed in his autobiography that he ‘never made a single scene that compromised my convictions or my personal morality’. 


Films like Los Olvidados, Nazarin and The Young One show that Buñuel was not against realism only against its acceptance as sufficient. It is a means of drawing us into the world in order to contaminate reality and throw realism’s insufficiency into relief. Dreams in Buñuel are coextensive with the everyday, they are not contained at a safe distance from it. His Mexican period is also something of a rebuttal to those who still insist on confining surrealism in the modernist avant garde and quarantining Un Chien Andalou and L’Age d’Or as almost the only truly surrealist films.

Delia Garcés, Arturo de Cordova, El
 

A surrealist engagement with the subversive potential of popular culture can be found in Buñuel’s injection of  black comedy into a melodrama such as El (1952).  Andrew Sarris characteristically claimed that Buñuel ‘could have been one of Us’ except that his rider that Buñuel ‘hated everything that Hollywood stood for’ is demonstrably not true. After all, one of Buñuel’s favourite films, Portrait of Jennie, was the labour of love of an archetypal Hollywood producer, David O.Selznick. In his demonstrated ability to work in an industry framework without compromising his surrealist affinities, the Mexican period films also offer plenty of evidence to the contrary. It is unlikely, however, that Buñuel could have achieved the relative collaborative freedom in the Hollywood studio contract system with its strict division of labour and especially in the political climate of the time, that he did in the Mexican industry, which obliged him to pursue a career south of the border.

 

Buñuel moved to Mexico City where he made his first feature film Gran Casino in 1946, for which he was poorly paid to work with inferior material by producer Oscar Dancigers. It was a flop and from 1947-9 Buñuel was without work in the industry until he directed a box office success El gran calavera (1949) that gave him a chance to make a film of his own choosing. He did a deal with Dancigers beginning with Los Olvidados / The Forgotten Ones (1950) that also commenced Buñuel's productive collaboration with cameraman Gabriel Figueroa. Made in “relative freedom” but still poorly paid, its originality briefly put Buñuel back on the international stage (an award at Cannes) 'rediscovered' after the break of 20 years following his Surrealist triptych, Un Chien Andalou (1929), L'Age d'or (1930) and Las Hurdes (1932).  

The critical success with the restoration of the “obsessive dream sequence”, an overt stylistic sign of surrealism, in Los Olvidados, a social melodrama set amongst young delinquents in the slums, did not ensure more subsequent freedom as a director of 11 further features 1950-5 including five for Dancigers. Dream sequences appear in Subida al cielo/Mexican Bus Ride (1951) to match those in Los Olvidados. In Adventures of Robinson Crusoe (1952) praised by Aranda as “a model of interpretative adaptation,” the Oedipal influence rules in the dreams which are in the original story,” Séguin notes. It is also the case that the Oedipal influence rules the main dream sequence in Los Olvidados. There are no dreams in the blackly comic Ensayo de un crimen /The Criminal Life of Archibaldo de la Cruz (1955) which is deliberately structured around obsession (Buñuel was delighted when a critic said Archibaldo was the most pornographic film he'd seen, responding that 'all my films are pornographic').

Los Olvidados

The transition period from exile to international status was marked by three features in France (1955-9), two in Mexico including Nazarin in which a young itinerant priest in experiencing the sins, poverty and plagues of the secular world learns to accept as well as extend charity, and a Mexican-US co-production. Raymond Durgnat described The Young One (1960  as “Marxism in dramatic action as few films can be,” filmed in English on location on an island south of Acapulco. The characters including 14 year old Ewie played by an amateur (Kay Meersman), one of Buñuel's “most haunting creations of an innocent, enigmatic, free and hence calm” (ibid). Bunuel regarded The Young One as 'his most spontaneous film' which he said he made 'all in one stroke, that all the people changed, undergoing an evolution during the shooting' (quoted Aranda 183).

In his return to Spain, at Franco's invitation, to make a film of his own choosing. Buñuel chose the 'blasphemous' Viridiana (1961), a companion to Nazarin in its portrayal of the selfless altruism of a young nun confronted by ridicule and cruelty, its ending, as ambiguous as that of Nazarin, is optimistically open. The fifth of Bunuel’s transition films to full international recognition, Viridiana was filmed in Mexico as a Spanish financed production for protection against confiscation, a wise precaution as it turned out, the plot on the submitted script “gives no idea of the deep subversion [intended in Bunuel’s vision of Spain] latent in the images” (Aranda 198)

Viridiana

Buñuel made his mysterious black comedy, 
El ángel exterminador /The Exterminating Angel (1962), in Mexico with Spanish money, closing the Mexican period in his career. It was in The Exterminating Angel, following Viridiana, that dreams resurfaced “in the elementary and allusive form of the gag” (Seguin). In Buñuel's recovery of an untrammelled surrealism in which a random gathering of people for a dinner party is trapped in a situation for which there is no seeming explanation. The black comedy arises from the increasingly absurdist constraint on the drama to co-operate, even as on the surface the classically styled narrative requires, even demands, a rational explanation, the first of the closed-situation narratives in modernist European art cinema in the 60s, as Kovács notes, with examples in the eastern European new waves in Poland (Polanski's Knife in the Water), Czechoslovakia (Nemec's A Report on the Party and Guests) and Hungary (Jancsó's The Round-up), and films by auteurs such as Bergman (Persona), Fassbinder (Beware of a Holy Whore) and Marco Ferreri (La grande bouffe)                                                                                                           

Bunuel and Julio Alejandro wrote the script of Tristana - they had earlier collaborated on Viridiana - adapted from a lesser novel by an acknowledged Spanish master, Benito Perez Galdos, in late 1962; novels invariably acted as points of departure for Bunuel. He suggested Tristana to the production company and received assurances from the censorship authorities that there would be no problem only to have the script rejected at the last minute on quite trivial grounds. “Bunuel resignedly told [the persistent] Silberman that he was ready to make Diary of a Chambermaid.”

Diary of a Chambermaid

Based on a novel by Octave Mirbeau, 
Diary of a Chambermaid was the first of Buñuel's seven collaborations with writer Jean-Claude Carrière and one of five with producer Serge Silberman. The film is set in the bleak greyness of approaching winter shifted from the turn of the century in the novel, by Bunuel, to the rise of fascism in the thirties in a politically unstable France. Jeanne Moreau plays  Cèlestine, the chambermaid who comes to service in a wealthy country estate where, “in the special eerieness […] in its intimate inhumanities,” she becomes locked in a pact with the gamekeeper Joseph, a sadistic fascist.  “Because they maintain the Buñuelian sense of contradictions of a dialectic, his characters can be, in the orthodox sense, ‘types', and yet retain their qualities of inner life, of unpredictability.” (Durgnat). Any sense of “Manichean divisions” that seem to be established “are promptly undermined by contradictions that are made clear by the sardonic placidity of  Bunuel's style” in which he rejects liberal clichés of a division that humankind is basically either good or bad.  He portrays “the life force as ambivalent, brutality is authentic, not the result of alienation or frustration.” Moreau as Cèlestine is “thoroughly Buñuelian in catching the nuances of a complex character” (ibid). Also filmed by Jean Renoir in America in 1945, in comparison with Bunuel’s direct assault on the manners and political morals of the bourgeoisie, Renoir’s is a very different - almost romantic - adaptation, one of three other film versions of Mirbeau's novel which was originally published as “a voyeuristically inclined serial.”

In this mature phase of his career culminating in the six features beginning with Belle de Jour (1967)  Buñuel removes the outward trappings of psychological causality in the narrative thus suspending momentarily the distinction between the 'real' and the 'imaginary'. “This is done,” Thomas Elsaesser observes, “without resorting to subjectivist fantasy, avoiding surrealism yet remaining faithful to the surrealist aesthetic while retaining behavioural naturalism in gesture and circumstantial detail.” As Elsaesser further points out, proof of Bunuel's rare visual sense lies in this “audaciously controlled displacement[rather than dislocation] of overt logic and continuity in favour of an inner dynamic... A transference of significance takes place, the narrative often proceeding by omitting causally expected shots that would logically move the narrative forward.” Elsaesser notes that “this narrative method actually goes back to Buñuel's first film Un Chien Andalou / An Andalusian Dog (1927), except that the explicitly psychoanalytic symbols of his first film are ultimately abandoned in favour of an imagery of cumulatively disruptive visual under-statement integrated into the characters' realistic environment. Elsaesser concludes that this development in Buñuel's oeuvre “ as one of the most remarkable phenomena in modern cinema.”


The surrealist belief in the irrationality of religion is again foregrounded by Buñuel in the 'stingingly realistic' portrayal, in 
Simón del desierto /Simon of the Desert (1965), of the fifth century Syrian saint, Simon of Stylites who spent 39 years living atop a 66 foot column near Aleppo preaching to pilgrims.

Belle de Jour

It was the possibility of introducing two levels of reality into his adaptation of Joseph Kessel's original novel of Belle de Jour, in which there is only one level, that led Buñuel to accept the invitation to film it from the producers. “Alone among the surrealists, Bunuel succeeded in elaborating and refining the specific means of cinema without betraying the conscious impulse” (ibid).

Louis Séguin titled his review of Belle de Jour in Positif in 1967, “The Periphery of Dreams.”Suddenly following Simon of the Desert “which was woven out of mirages and apparitions, comes Belle de Jour with dreams making their reappearance in Buñuel's world, masterfully pervasive at first but quickly becoming as insidious as they are imprecise...diluted into the mental landscape.” Structured into the story of the young wife of a surgeon who seeks to enliven her sexually unfulfilled marriage in the 'forbidden territory' of a brothel, are six daydreams with masochistic themes alternating with seven episodes of real life and three brief memories from Séverine's childhood. Up to the sixth and final imaginary episode when the previously paralysed Pierre suddenly gets up from his wheel chair as if nothing has happened, Séguin notes, “the story is easily understood from an almost linear interpretation which would make it rather ordinary,” like Kessel's 1928 psychological novel on which it is based, “if it were not for obstacles [placed by Buñuel] which cause the dividing line between dreams and reality to crumble.”

From the uncertainty of the episode of the mock funeral at the Duke's, Séguin proceeds to identify a series of ways in which the crumbling of the divide – the logical decomposition of Belle de Jour – proceeds. Some scenes belong to the imagery like the coach and coachmen at the beginning and end, and the repeated references to cats. Others refer both to the real and the imaginary, or can be logically explained. The use of sounds such as various bells are heard in both real and imaginary worlds in the slide to calculated confusion. The two gangsters are initially so archetypal as to be imagined. A number of coincidences are so simplistic as to appear normal, others take us to the limits of the unknown, the lacquered box of the Korean client in the brothel is unusual and calculated.     

When the time comes to determine where the imaginary begins and the real ends, all interpretations are possible from the most linear and ordinary to the most absolute, worthy of Jorge Borges […] Everyone viewing Belle de Jour can choose between an infinity of possible films. […] Seeking rational justifications for this tale would remove all of Bunuel’s impact. [,,,] As his work matures and becomes more organised what strikes one first is the perpetual and systematic use of the gag.

In addition to the mordant humour in The Exterminating Angel and Simon of the Desert in “the gags are red-hot-topical in Discreet Charm, which followed on the heels of the events of 1968 (Short 162).

“Throughout Belle de Jour Bunuel continually affirms his repeated and necessary combat against Christian morality” (Séguin 99)). 

For Bunuel his inspiration, neither explanatory nor transcendant, “rejects both psychologism and scholarly distinction between dreams, daydreams and visions as not useful from a creative viewpoint.” He keeps them at what Séguin refers to as “poetic reversal [of the narrative] that sheds more intense light on the story,” in distinguishing from the poetic that exalts or explains the story.


In an interview at the time of The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie in 1972 [Bunuel]explained : ‘An image strikes me, I keep it; I don’t ask why it has made such an impression on me, or if it springs from an association of ideas ,or from an emotion, or a dream, or a memory. We surrealists let images overtake us like this. I have never used symbols on purpose (ibid 160).

Tristana

“From the Mexican 
Susana (1950) to Tristana (1971) via Journal d’Une femme de Chambre and most famously, Belle de Jour, Bunuel assumes the viewpoint of the woman trying to understand what men want and using their sexuality to fight the submissive destiny prescribed them by society” (Short 162). As Short poInts out, Simon is “only one of many Bunuelian heroes around whom the woman literally runs rings. As victims alike of traumatised childhoods, both male and female protagonists become victimisers in their turn. Bunuel made no bones about the multiple contradictions among which he contrived to forge his own life: ‘They’re part of me and part of the fundamental ambiguity of all things, which I cherish’ “ (ibid).

With the ongoing legacy of L’Age d’Or, La Voie lactée/The Milky Way (1969) further opened the way for the essayist film.  Amused by the ongoing war fought by the Church against heresy, Bunuel and Carrière compiled a list from Church histories of apostasies and their repression (Baxter 287). The final titles in The Milky Way claim everything in the film which concerns Catholicism and its heresies is religiously correct. Baxter reports Bunuel’s embarrassment when “The Milky Way was well received by the Church, sections of which were thawing in the liberalism of the Second Vatican Council,” while the Spanish government in declining to ban The Milky Way, welcomed Bunuel back to Spain.

The production company that had advanced Bunuel $30,000 for Tristana in 1962 approached Bunuel for a re-launch having found Italian and French finance. Bunuel determined that Tristana should mark his triumphant return to Spain - his previous entry, Viridiana, had been under false pretences with an ulterior motive (ibid 292).

Made between two successful masterworks  - Belle de Jour and The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1973) - Tristana, is too often overlooked as arguably his most personal and fully realised work,  reflecting his profound understanding of Spanish culture and characters. Tristana is set in the late 20s and filmed on location in the narrow medieval streets of Toledo where Bunuel spent his university years,  characters bearing early memories of his father and favourite sister (Baxter 293).

The perverse relationship underpinned by unconscious drives, between Tristana (Catherine Deneuve) and her guardian, a much older poor aristocrat, freethinker and chauvinist Don Lope (Fernando Rey), “standing for the impotence and historical amnesia of Spain,” from whose oppression flees only to be entrapped by circularity. She is impelled by illness to return hardened from her initial guise of devout innocence to that of icy revenge.

“Tristana belongs with Belle de Jour in the Bunuel oeuvre. It is post-Viridiana and post-Nazarin in its sensibility, refusing even the illusion of a messianic figure equivalent to Viridiana, Nazarin or Simon of the Desert come to heal the poor. The political has been transformed into the sociology of a callous aristocracy struggling with its death throes in an unrelieved homeland” (Mellen 55). As a tale of ‘l’amour fou’ (given ‘a black rather than rosy testament’) bathed in an autumnal melancholy, Tristana contrasts with the ironic detached tone and lightness of his final three films which, Robert Short, quoting Michael Wood, “are Bunuel’s thoughtful response to a changed cultural climate […] There is a serenity in Bunuel’s late films. But it is not his. It is the false and fragile serenity of the society he pictures. It is a confection of denial, and it can’t last, Bunuel wants to suggest. Unless of course it lasts for ever.”   

In addition to Viridiana, the other features (1950-62) most contributing to Bunuel’s transition to the ‘fragile serenity of the society he pictures’ jn Belle de jour, Tristana and the three ironically absurdist comedies made in France in the 70s, are Los Olvidados, The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, El, The Criminal Life of Archibaldo de La Cruz, Nazarin, and The Exterminating Angel.  The Young One and Diary of a Chambermaid have been given retrospective critical recognition after being met with indifferent initial receptions.

******************************

 

 

 

Thomas Elsaesser “Reflection & Reality” Monogram 2 Summer 1971, 

Louis Seguin “The Periphery of Dreams: Luis Bunuel's Belle de Jour”  Positif no.87, trans. Positif  50 Years  2002,  

Francisco Aranda  Luis Bunuel:A Critical Biography Cinema Two 1975,  

John Baxter  Luis Bunuel  authorised biography 1994,  

Adrian Martin “The Eternal Return of Luis Bunuel https://www.adrianmartinfilmcritic.com/essays/bunuel.html  accessed 31/10/21; “Tristana”  https://www.adrianmartinfilmcritic.com/reviews/t/tristana.html  

Jan Dawson “Belle de Jour” review Monthly Film Bulletin  December 1967,  

Tom Milne“Tristana” review Monthly Film Bulletin November 1971,  

Joan Mellen review Film Quarterly Winter 1970-1, 

Raymond Durgnat Luis Bunuel Movie paperback 1967, 

Robert Short The Age of Gold Surrealist Cinema Creation Books 2002, 

Michael Wood  Belle de Jour  BFI 2000,  

Dominique Russel Great  Directors Senses of Cinema  April 2006                                                                                                                                          


                                    ***************************

Previous entries in this series can be found if you click the following links

 

Sixty Years of International Art Cinema: 1960-2020 - Tables and Directors Lists to Accompany Bruce Hodsdon's Series

 

Notes on canons, methods, national cinemas and more

 

Part One - Introduction

Part Two - Defining Art Cinema

Part Three - From Classicism to Modernism

Part Four - Authorship and Narrative

Part Five - International Film Guide Directors of the Year, The Sight and Sound World Poll, Art-Horror

Part Six (1) - The Sixties, the United States and Orson Welles

Part Six (2) - Hitchcock, Romero and Art Horror

Part Six (3) - New York Film-makers - Elia Kazan & Shirley Clarke  

Part Six (4) - New York Film-makers - Stanley Kubrick Creator of Forms

Part Six (5) ‘New Hollywood’ (1) - Arthur Penn, Warren Beatty, Pauline Kael and BONNIE AND CLYDE

Part Six (6) Francis Ford Coppola: Standing at the crossroads of art and industry

Part 6(7) Altman

6(8) Great Britain - Joseph Losey, Lindsay Anderson, Karel Reisz, Richard Lester, Peter Watkins, Barney Platts-Mills

6(9) France - Part One The New Wave and The Cahiers du Cinema Group

6(10) France - Part Two - The Left Bank/Rive Gauche Group and an Independent

6(11) France - Part Three - Young Godard

6(12) France - Part Four - Godard:Visionary and Rebel

6 (13) France Part 5 Godard with Gorin, Miéville : Searching for an activist voice

6(14) France Part 6 - Creator of Forms - Bresson 

6 (15) France Part 6 - Creator of Forms - Jacques Tati

 6 (16) - Part 6 - Creator of Forms - Carl Th Dreyer

6 (17) - Italy and Luchino Visconti

6(18 - Italy and Roberto Rossellini - Part One

6(19) - Rossellini, INDIA and the new Historical realism

6(20) - Rossellini in Australia

6 (21) - Italy - Michelangelo Antonioni

6 (22) - Italy - Federico Fellini, Ermanno Olmi

6 (23) - Italy - Pasolini, Rosi

6 (24) - Interregnum - Director/Auteur/Autoren

6 (25) West Germany

6 (26) - Alexander Kluge Part One

6 (27) - Alexander Kluge Part Two

6 (28) - The Young German Cinema: Reitz, Schlondorff, von Trotta

6(29 ) West German Cinema - Fassbinder

6 (30) West German Cinema - Straub & Huillet

6(31) - New Spanish Cinema


                                                                                                                    

                                                                                                                     

Thursday, 5 September 2024

Sixty Years of International Art Cinema 1960-2020 - Bruce Hodsdon continues his series - 6 (31) Other Western Europe - The New Spanish Cinema

Other Western Europe     

Spain Luis Buñuel (65) b.00, Luis Garcia Berlanga (81) b.21, Juan Antonio Bardem b.22, Carlos Saura (78) b.32,  Victor Erice b.40, Greece  Michael Cacoyannis (76) b.22,  Netherlands Fons Rademakers (79) b.20, Bracketed number indicates an International Film Guide Director of the Year

6 (31)  The New Spanish Cinema

Government interest in a strong national film industry in Franco’s Spain did not become apparent until the early 60s when the first attempt was made by Spain to enter the European Common Market. It was recognised that a concerted effort was needed to demonstrate, at least culturally, that Spain was no longer the retrograde, fascist backwater of Europe.


Spain's transition from Francoism to democracy spanned three decades from the end of the war in 1945 to the death of the dictator in 1975. Spanish cinema played an important role in this process. The two leading Spanish filmmakers 
Juan Bardem (1922-2002, above) and Luis Berlanga (1921-2010, below)) collaborated on a neo-realist influenced comedy, Esa Pareja Feliz/That Happy Couple (1951), and a popular satire of the so-called national cinemas, Bienvenido/Welcome Mr Marshall (1952), in which an image of national unity is imposed at home at the cost of cultural and regional difference in order to be successfully promoted abroad as a distinctive 'national' commodity so qualifying Spain for a share of Marshall aid from the US.


At a conference at Salamanca in May 1955 Spanish filmmakers of both the left and right looked to Italian neorealism as the model. Bardem's first film as writer-director, 
Muerte de un ciclista/Death of a Cyclist (1955), the first Spanish film to win a prize at an international film festival, portrayed Spanish society as corrupt and complacent.  Bardem employs a dialectic between neo-realism and classic Hollywood melodrama rupturing the audience-binding “star close-ups” of the latter with “neo-realist sequences filmed in deep-focus long shots.” Marsha Kinder concludes that “this dialectical opposition between the two foreign aesthetics helped to forge the subtle, indirect language of the New Spanish Cinema.” ( essay, Kinder in ‘World Cinema’ Nowell-Smith ed. 597)

Bardem was arrested and jailed during the filming of Calle Mayor / Main Street (1956), regarded as his best film, in which he bitterly explores life under Franco. His production company was responsible for the production of Viridiana (1961) marking Bunuel's return to Spain, the Franco government's intention being for him 'to return to the fold' to make a film of his own choosing (“they didn't even ask to see the script in advance”). It was hardly surprising for it to be condemned by the Church and banned by the censors for blasphemy causing a major upheaval and loss of jobs in the film industry. After Calle Major Bardem’s work went into creative decline as he tried unsuccessfully to make a Spanish film that would also speak to an international audience but in so doing he was the first to highlight the abysmal state of the Spanish film industry.

Betsy Blair, Jose Suarez, Calle Mayor

Luis Berlanga who began his career with Bardem and “shared his colleague’s attempts to challenge the Franco myth yet with an opposite mode of discourse” ( Higginbotham 43). While Bardem challenged his audiences with somber carefully constructed plots in orderly narratives, Berlanga disarmed with rapid paced chaotic farces and comic ridicule of Spanish political situations and social types. While his career spanned three decades beginning with 
Welcome Mr Marshal which broke with the conventions of Spanish cinema prior to 1950, he nevertheless struggled to make films through the sixties, his scripts repeatedly rejected by the authorities. He managed however to complete two of his best, El Verdugo/The Executioner (1963), a black comedy about a reluctant public executioner “full of insights into the corrupt Francoist mentality” which achieved critical and international film festival success. In Tamano Natural/Life Size (1973, Michel Piccoli plays a chic dentist with an attraction for a life-like doll, fantasy in a permissive society taking on symbolic importance beyond the doll owner’s conceptions. “It carries to their logical conclusions  [ Berlanga’s] most characteristic preoccupations - freedom versus power and the castrating woman” (ibid 55).

Nino Manfredi (r) El Verdugo

If Bardem did not further successfully develop the already referred to model of the dialectic between two foreign aesthetics (Italian neo-realism and classical Hollywood melodrama), as outlined by Marsha Kinder, he did provide, with Saura, the framework for “the subtle, indirect language of the new Spanish Cinema”  (Kinder Nowell-Smith ed. 597). The opportunity was provided by changed political circumstances in the early 60s when the government, through the responsible minister García Escudero and a new general director of cinema, decided to officially promote this new art cinema abroad while still imposing censorship at home. Kinder notes that it was a Basque-born producer Eías Querejeta who pushed hardest against repressive censorship while creating a collaborative team of talented creative technicians. The best known of the ten works produced by Querejeta in the 60s directed by New Spanish Cinema directors, were those directed by auteur Carlos Saura. “They pioneered  ‘la estetica franquista’, the ironic film style which came to characterise Spanish film during the Franco period.” (Higginbotham 29). Saura expanded the language of violence (an acknowledged influence on Peckinpah) along with politics, sex, and sacrilege. “Bardem’s voice of protest was, with its undeniable intellectual ring, too advanced for the general Spanish public.” Luis Berlanga came closer to creating a national cinema than Bardem. It was Bardem, however, who first defined the state of the Spanish cinema. His films are a continuation of that effort and are “the first serious attempt to awaken the national consciousness” (ibid 42).

The period 1963, under the administration of Escudero, saw the development of the ‘New Spanish Cinema’. “Well-intentioned as a whole, it was not disinterested,” being part of a political operation designed and directed from within the government, “to keep the outer and more showy aspects of the Spanish economic and social climate in tune with Europe.” The objective was to encourage certain new films of quality which would not raise any serious problems at home, a new code of censorship imposed while giving the impression abroad, especially at international film festivals, of a ‘new wave’. “It was, in short, simply an operation of political prestige” (Molina-Foix 18). The end result satisfied no one, least of all the ideological left, the voices for the new cinema which lacked audience acceptance, students and other critics of the state of censorship. Escudero’s position was dissolved for economic reasons and, although unstated, for his failure to control restless voices like an intense lobby group called the Sitgistas (Higginbotham 65). The tightly controlled experiment with art cinemas in urban areas for the screening of foreign language films was abandoned, apparently for lack of audience response.


Carlos Saura
 (1932-2023, above) was recognised as “the most direct heir to Bunuel’s film style and cultural perceptions” (ibid 77). He drew on Bunuel’s legacy of the “surreal documentary,” (Las Hurdes, L’Age d’Or), to convey reality indirectly so as to discredit the distortions of the Franco myth”, through metaphorical film language and syntax designed to confuse the censors (ibid). It did not confuse elements on the the Right, however, with militants firebombing a cinema showing one of Saura’s most affecting films in this mode, La Prima Angelica (1973), for its implied political critique of the Franco era. Saura was also criticised on the Left as a right wing collaborator because he was allowed to continue working. His career covered the whole period of the birth and development of the New Spanish Cinema with its urgent commitment “to reveal Spain to itself.”

 In his first film Saura takes neo-realist ideas further than any other young Spanish film-maker in Los Golfos /The Hooligans (1959). A group of young men in a lower class area of Madrid with little prospect of employment, rob a factory to pay for the training of one of them as a matador with prospects of earning sufficient to share between them. As David Thomson notes at this early stage Saura is “far more affected by De Sica than Bunuel” - he had not then actually seen a Bunuel film.

Saura achieved the first of his international festival successes with his third feature, La Caza/ The Hunt (1965) in which the camera presides over the self-destruction of three middle class businessmen seemingly representative of the class that won the Spanish Civil War, their peasant guide, a ‘loser’ who hunts out of necessity. The focus on the characters in a closed situation and the violence of the hunt become motifs in an oblique allegory as the initially dispassionate relationship between the trio becomes unsettling then violent comedy in a tale of erotic obsession. Dedicated to Bunuel it is the first of a triptych in which Saura turned his attention from the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War in The Hunt, to another conflict in Spanish society - relations between men and women. Geraldine Chaplin plays a Vertigo-like double role, the object of a doctor’s attention in his search for an ‘ideal wife’. Peppermint frappé was also  the beginning of their extended on and off screen partnership.

El jardin de las delicias / The Garden of Delights (1970) is the first of a series of political allegories which consolidated Saura’s reputation at home and abroad. “They are a skilful blend of metaphor which Saura had learned to master in La Caza. In them, reference to the family signifies both domestic and national life” (Higginbotham 84). In La prima Angélica /Cousin Angélica (1973) the protagonist makes a painful journey from Barcelona to honour his mother’s wishes that she be buried in her home town, near Madrid.  On the journey Louis remembers as he is now and as he was as a boy; the two levels are merged, Bunuel-like, as to be indistinguishable. The extension of forty years of defeat and conflict into the present, and inevitably into the future, created considerable controversy as well as box office success. Saura, in response, stressed the psychoanalytic rather than the political context of Angelica - that he was only “echoing Adler, Jung and Marcuse” though “many Spaniards recognised the central character's search for identity as their own” (ibid 91).  

Anna Torrent, Geraldine Chaplin, Cria Cuervos

Greater “mesmerising introspection” on Saura’s part is evident with Chaplin playing opposite Ana Torrent in a strangely subdued but lyrically perceptive examination of a child’s world in 
Cria cuevros/ Raise Ravens (1975) set in the last days of Fascism. “ Intriguingly, the film suggests that the spirit of the dusty surrealism of Bunuel lives on in his native Spain” ( Phil Hardy ‘Time Out’ ). Like Victor Erice’s Spirit of the Beehive, Saura’s Cria cuervos with La prima Angéica identifiy as “Saura’s most original and spontaneous works, reflects reality through the eyes of a child memorably played in both films by Ana Torrent. Higginbotham further identifies Saura’s choice of the bitter Spanish proverb “raise ravens and they’ll pluck out your eyes,” as typical of a repressive, fearful, and conformist myth as that of the Franco regime.”  She further sees this as “another attempt by Saura to demystify the terminology, for its protagonist, Ana, resists every attempt to initiate her into its rituals” (92).

The success of Saura’s films internationally, was apparently not matched in Spain where they were regarded as art films for an ‘educated minority’ (Higginbotham 96) and also inevitably diverted attention outside Spain from other landmark films such as Miguel Picazo’s La tia Tula /Aunt Tula (1964) based on a novel by Spanish philosopher Miguel de Unamuno considered ahead of its time for its treatment of the theme of social hypocrisy in the definition of woman’s role (marriage or the convent), “an hypocrisy not only implicating the male power structure based upon the church but the entire provincial culture which represents more than half of Spain” (96-9). While now considered a classic of New Spanish Cinema, with 4 minutes then cut by the censor, no indication is given in available accounts of the film’s general reception in Spain at the time.

The early 70s were the years of ‘soft dictatorship’ (‘dictablanda’) leading up to Franco’s death in 1975 in which government censorship within Spain was finally relaxed. This coincided with major international successes for the New Spanish Cinema. On the other hand in 1975 the film industry was hopelessly in debt while the best of the New Cinema and the experiments of the so-called Barcelona School and its avant-gardism fringe, were barely visible in their own country where very little of world art cinema could be seen on Spanish screens.



This politically and socially unsettled franquista period yielded Saura’s 
Cria cuevros and what has become one of the most acclaimed films in the history of Spanish cinema, El espiritu de la colmena / Spirit of the Beehive (1973). Victor Erice (above) in his first feature, turned to the those of the horror film for new myths. Erice “does not see El Espiritu as a narrative film, but rather a work which has a fundamentally lyrical, musical structure and whose images lie deep in the very heart of a mythical experience” ( Molina-Foix 34).


Fernando (Fernando Fernan Gomez) and Teresa (Teresa Gimpera) seemingly in a state of self exile, he now a bee-keeper given to reflecting on the lives of bees, she an unrequited correspondent writing to a lover or lost child, “studies in haunted solitude,” living with their two daughters, 6 year old Ana (Ana Torrent) and 9 year old Isabel (Isabel Telleria). David Thomson conjures up the image of ‘the quite empty house where everything is like a magic breath on the embers of memory or metaphor.” Suggestive of Franco’s Spain in microcosm, the remote Castilian village is connected to civilisation by the travelling cinema where the girls see James Whale’s film of 
Frankenstein (1931, above and below), and by the train, its regularly imminent arrival at the station on the windswept plateau announced by its melancholy whistle and, as the sisters are aware, by vibrations in the rail tracks .


When Ana, frightened and moved by the duality of the gentle monster on the screen, asks her sister why he killed the little girl and why he too was killed, Isabel knowingly reassures her that it’s a movie trick, the monster is not dead and Ana can call him. “Corrupted Isabel” tells “profoundly serious Ana” that the spirit lives in an isolated, abandoned barn temporarily offering refuge to a wounded fugitive maquis. Isobel, wilfully through disturbing games, seals her vulnerable younger sister’s traumatisation. Erice’s decision for the whole cast to use their original ‘given’ names during the filming assumes full significance in the film’s final scene “as Ana comes out of her coma.”

 This is a film about spirits - spirits who walk, words and dream-images made flesh. But this spirit blows where it will, whipping like a shape-shifter; it is, variously, the spirit of the father’s beehive; the spirit of Frankenstein which has emerged from the movie screen to enter a girl’s mind; the spirit of war passes through this humble town, leaving its traces. The spirit is also the angel of death, and the temptation to evil as well as the temptation to exist.   - Adrian Martin (Mysteries of Cinema 189)

"vibrations in the rail tracks"

Vicente Molina-Foix concludes that its “huge success in Spain (and abroad) lies mainly in the fact that [
Spirit of the Beehive] was the first movie in thirty years to offer a truthful view of the oppressive atmosphere of post-war Spain as seen from the loser’s point of view. And yet Erice achieved this through ellipsis and stylisation” (34).

Erice’s film is a singular achievement of the ‘franquista’ period in which the mystery of character is gradually revealed in a cinema of poetry “something like a free stream of image and sound events, akin to a certain kind of avant-garde cinema,” in which “narrative is given entry to this poetry only as a compromise or a constraint (Martin ‘Mysteries’ 170).” In contrast in the year of Franco’s death in 1975 two films  - Ricardo Franco’s Pascual Duarte and José Luis Borau’s Furtivos/Poachers marked a culmination of four decades of Spanish cinema with the themes of exploitation, ignorance and violence analogous to the then antiquated marginal position of Spain in the modern world.  Both equate the mother figure with Franco’s Spain, a motherland now corrupt and cruel unwinding the theme of matricide belying traditional Spanish machismo (Higginbotham 115).

******************************

Marsha Kinder,”Spain After Franco” Oxford History of World Cinema Nowell-Smith ed. pp. 596-603                                                            

Virginia Higginbotham  Spanish Film Under Franco 1988                                                                                                                       

Adrian Martin  “Ball of Fire : The Mysteries”  essay in  Mysteries of Cinema 2020 ed.                                                      

Vicente Molina-Foix  New Cinema in Spain BFI monograph 1977                                                                                       

Verina Glassner review of ‘Spirit of the Beehive’  Monthly Film Bulletin  November 1974                                     

David Thomson  review of Spirit of the Beehive in Have You Seen…  2008 

Adrian Danks  “Victor Erice”  Great Directors  Senses of Cinema  March 2003

Steven Marsh Great Directors  Luis Garcia Berlanga  Senses of Cinema  May 2003

*********************************

Previous entries in this series can be found if you click the following links

 

Sixty Years of International Art Cinema: 1960-2020 - Tables and Directors Lists to Accompany Bruce Hodsdon's Series

 

Notes on canons, methods, national cinemas and more

 

Part One - Introduction

Part Two - Defining Art Cinema

Part Three - From Classicism to Modernism

Part Four - Authorship and Narrative

Part Five - International Film Guide Directors of the Year, The Sight and Sound World Poll, Art-Horror

Part Six (1) - The Sixties, the United States and Orson Welles

Part Six (2) - Hitchcock, Romero and Art Horror

Part Six (3) - New York Film-makers - Elia Kazan & Shirley Clarke  

Part Six (4) - New York Film-makers - Stanley Kubrick Creator of Forms

Part Six (5) ‘New Hollywood’ (1) - Arthur Penn, Warren Beatty, Pauline Kael and BONNIE AND CLYDE

Part Six (6) Francis Ford Coppola: Standing at the crossroads of art and industry

Part 6(7) Altman

6(8) Great Britain - Joseph Losey, Lindsay Anderson, Karel Reisz, Richard Lester, Peter Watkins, Barney Platts-Mills

6(9) France - Part One The New Wave and The Cahiers du Cinema Group

6(10) France - Part Two - The Left Bank/Rive Gauche Group and an Independent

6(11) France - Part Three - Young Godard

6(12) France - Part Four - Godard:Visionary and Rebel

6 (13) France Part 5 Godard with Gorin, Miéville : Searching for an activist voice

6(14) France Part 6 - Creator of Forms - Bresson 

6 (15) France Part 6 - Creator of Forms - Jacques Tati

 6 (16) - Part 6 - Creator of Forms - Carl Th Dreyer

6 (17) - Italy and Luchino Visconti

6(18 - Italy and Roberto Rossellini - Part One

6(19) - Rossellini, INDIA and the new Historical realism

6(20) - Rossellini in Australia

6 (21) - Italy - Michelangelo Antonioni

6 (22) - Italy - Federico Fellini, Ermanno Olmi

6 (23) - Italy - Pasolini, Rosi

6 (24) - Interregnum - Director/Auteur/Autoren

6 (25) West Germany

6 (26) - Alexander Kluge Part One

6 (27) - Alexander Kluge Part Two

6 (28) - The Young German Cinema: Reitz, Schlondorff, von Trotta

6(29 ) West German Cinema - Fassbinder

6 (30) West German Cinema - Straub & Huillet