By the early 1930s, Luis Bunuel was simultaneously one of the most famous avant-garde filmmakers in Europe and persona non grata in that filmmaking world. The controversial receptions of Un Chien Andalou and especially L'Age d'Or ultimately caused his patron, Charles de Noailles, to withdraw his support, and Bunuel found other producers similarly reluctant to court controversy by funding his projects. After months of getting nowhere, a French cinematographer named Eli Lotar brought a recently published ethnographic study of a remote region of Spain to Bunuel's attention, and an old friend from Spain named Ramon Acin won a lottery and offered Bunuel the money to direct a documentary based on that ethnography. The resulting film,Las Hurdes: Tierra Sin Pan (Land without Bread), became Bunuel's last credited film as director before moving to Mexico a dozen years later. Recently, Las Hurdes has come to be regarded as one of the most important documentaries of its time, seemingly deconstructing the documentary form itself and anticipating the mockumentaries of Rob Reiner and Christopher Guest by decades.
It's an unusual subject for an animated film, but it works wonderfully, especially if you're a film buff who reveres Bunuel's movies, as I do. Bunuel in the Labyrinth of the Turtles tells the story of Bunuel's efforts to make Las Hurdes, focusing extensively on the great director's efforts to manipulate what he was filming in order to get at a greater truth. In fact, interspersed periodically within the animated story are live-action excerpts from Las Hurdes itself, and part of the fun (if you've seen Las Hurdes) is noting how well the animators recreate the strikingly unusual faces of the people Bunuel chose to film. Director Salvador Simo and his team also take great pleasure in concocting their own surreal images when they animate several of Bunuel's own dreams. (To my mind, these dream sequences resemble the bizarre landscapes of Salvador Dali more than the straight-faced realism that Bunuel perfected, but the imagery is beautiful nonetheless.) What makes animation such an obvious choice for this movie instead of the documentary approach it could have taken -- and what makes the movie itself touching at times -- is the way it pays tribute to the friendship between Bunuel and Ramon Acin. Acin, an anarchist, was murdered early in the Spanish Civil War, and although early showings of Las Hurdes removed his name from the credits, Bunuel insisted that Acin's name be restored when new prints were struck in the 1960s. Bunuel in the Labyrinth of the Turtles ultimately contends that, after having soured on the very idea of collaboration due his tension with Dali, the process of making Las Hurdes taught Bunuel that filmmaking is an inherently collaborative endeavor.
I suppose I could quibble with some of Simo's choices. For instance, Bunuel was not nearly as isolated in the early 1930s as this movie suggests. He spent some time in Hollywood, employed by MGM, and he was already engaged to his future wife. In the mid-1930s, Bunuel produced and may have directed several movies for Filmofono; he wasn't just editing Las Hurdes alone in his own home. Perhaps most problematic is the fact that Bunuel in the Labyrinth of the Turtles presents Las Hurdes as a sincere effort on Bunuel's part to provoke social and political action. Drawing attention to the pompous narration and music that Bunuel added to the soundtrack (albeit several years later), many critics have persuasively argued that Las Hurdes is something of an inside joke, poking fun at travelogues and the ethnographic documentary tradition in general. I wish that Simo had at least acknowledged this line of argument, but it's churlish to criticize a filmmaker for having a point of view and presenting it so well.
A final point: as someone who knows and loves Bunuel's movies and as someone who enjoys animation for adult audiences, I am probably the exact audience the filmmakers had in mind for this movie. The relatively obscure story it tells may not excite everyone the way it does me. But it truly is a beautiful and thought-provoking movie, and it looks like GKIDS has picked it up for U.S. distribution, so please check it out if you get a chance. (I also really hope that, when it's eventually released on Blu-Ray, it will be accompanied by Las Hurdes itself, as well as appropriate special features that provides even more context for appreciating this lovely little film.)
It's an unusual subject for an animated film, but it works wonderfully, especially if you're a film buff who reveres Bunuel's movies, as I do. Bunuel in the Labyrinth of the Turtles tells the story of Bunuel's efforts to make Las Hurdes, focusing extensively on the great director's efforts to manipulate what he was filming in order to get at a greater truth. In fact, interspersed periodically within the animated story are live-action excerpts from Las Hurdes itself, and part of the fun (if you've seen Las Hurdes) is noting how well the animators recreate the strikingly unusual faces of the people Bunuel chose to film. Director Salvador Simo and his team also take great pleasure in concocting their own surreal images when they animate several of Bunuel's own dreams. (To my mind, these dream sequences resemble the bizarre landscapes of Salvador Dali more than the straight-faced realism that Bunuel perfected, but the imagery is beautiful nonetheless.) What makes animation such an obvious choice for this movie instead of the documentary approach it could have taken -- and what makes the movie itself touching at times -- is the way it pays tribute to the friendship between Bunuel and Ramon Acin. Acin, an anarchist, was murdered early in the Spanish Civil War, and although early showings of Las Hurdes removed his name from the credits, Bunuel insisted that Acin's name be restored when new prints were struck in the 1960s. Bunuel in the Labyrinth of the Turtles ultimately contends that, after having soured on the very idea of collaboration due his tension with Dali, the process of making Las Hurdes taught Bunuel that filmmaking is an inherently collaborative endeavor.
I suppose I could quibble with some of Simo's choices. For instance, Bunuel was not nearly as isolated in the early 1930s as this movie suggests. He spent some time in Hollywood, employed by MGM, and he was already engaged to his future wife. In the mid-1930s, Bunuel produced and may have directed several movies for Filmofono; he wasn't just editing Las Hurdes alone in his own home. Perhaps most problematic is the fact that Bunuel in the Labyrinth of the Turtles presents Las Hurdes as a sincere effort on Bunuel's part to provoke social and political action. Drawing attention to the pompous narration and music that Bunuel added to the soundtrack (albeit several years later), many critics have persuasively argued that Las Hurdes is something of an inside joke, poking fun at travelogues and the ethnographic documentary tradition in general. I wish that Simo had at least acknowledged this line of argument, but it's churlish to criticize a filmmaker for having a point of view and presenting it so well.
A final point: as someone who knows and loves Bunuel's movies and as someone who enjoys animation for adult audiences, I am probably the exact audience the filmmakers had in mind for this movie. The relatively obscure story it tells may not excite everyone the way it does me. But it truly is a beautiful and thought-provoking movie, and it looks like GKIDS has picked it up for U.S. distribution, so please check it out if you get a chance. (I also really hope that, when it's eventually released on Blu-Ray, it will be accompanied by Las Hurdes itself, as well as appropriate special features that provides even more context for appreciating this lovely little film.)