Another Buñuel. This is, I believe, the third film from the respected Spanish iconoclast that I’ve reviewed, and I’ve got at least one more to go. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed his The Young One (1960; # 162) and taken aback by the cruelty of his Las Hurdes (1933; # 133), but I have to confess that Tristana (1970) left me feeling little more than bored. This came as somewhat of a disappointment, superfluous to the disappointment of watching a boring movie, as I found on the IMDb that this was named by the Spanish cinema centenary in 1996 as the tenth greatest Spanish film ever made. I was also keenly aware that it was named to Roger Ebert’s 10-best list of 1971. Perhaps my expectations were too high.
As I’ve mentioned before, my thoughts on Buñuel aren’t quite set yet. I loathed his Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1972) when I saw it at 20, and felt the same boredom I was burdened with here during his Belle de Jour (1967). I realize that what Buñuel was doing in his time was revolutionary, but from the viewpoint of a contemporary audience I don’t think that some of his most acclaimed works say anything much at all. He may have originated ideas, but many of them have been so thoroughly rehashed since that they’ve lost almost all of their appeal. I realize that this is how many typical contemporary film fans treat anything made before Star Wars (1977), but in the case of most Buñuel film’s I feel that this criticism is legitimate. I love films from the golden age of Hollywood and feel that in many ways they trump modern movies, but most classics have been dubbed so, and thus survive, because they express a joy of cinema that is absent from many of Buñuel’s works.
Still, I can’t say that I’ve hated everything I’ve seen from Buñuel. I recently saw his final film, That Obscure Object of Desire (1977), which like Tristana stars Fernando Rey, and thought it to be a moving examination of the way men wish to possess women, and the way women resist. This is much of the same theme of Tristana, and I can’t help but question whether Buñuel returned to this type of material because he felt he’d missed the mark with the earlier film. I doubt that this was the case, as possession was a theme the director dealt with frequently, but I’m still inclined to wonder.
Tristana is a simple enough story. The title character, played by the beautiful Catherine Deneuve, finds herself under the guardianship of Don Lope (Rey) after the death of her mother. He acts as a father figure toward her, until he’s overwhelmed by her beauty. He seduces her, but carefully explains that she, like he, is free to love whomever she wishes. Tristana falls for the young artist Horacio, much to the chagrin of the older Don Lope. She leaves Lope for a time to be with the painter, but asks to return to his home when she is diagnosed with a cancerous tumor. She wants to die in his house, reminded of the comfort she once knew there as a girl. Don Lope is overjoyed. After an operation saves Tristana’s life but leaves her an amputee, she stays with Lope, living in his home but refusing his advances. Through years of subtle cruelty she watches his life fade away.
Deneuve is effective here as always, but as with Belle de Jour and Roman Polanski’s Repulsion (1965) she plays a character that is so cold that she’s unlikable, particularly in the film’s later stages. Obviously this is what Buñuel wanted, and it is a bold choice for any actress, particularly one so lovely, to habitually choose such roles. However, I prefer Deneuve in her lighter roles in the Jacques Demy musicals of the 1960s. Yes, it’s easier to like the pretty girl when she plays the flirt, but that’s how it goes. I applaud Catherine Deneuve for her career choices, and for almost her entire canon of work, but her emotional distance here makes Tristana a tough watch.
Language: Spanish
Runtime: 95 Minutes
Grade: 1.5 Hats Off
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