In this blog post, I will examine how perceptions of experimental film have changed, focusing on the desire, narrative transformations, and new possibilities for experimental film as depicted in Luis Buñuel’s surrealist films.
A common feature found in surrealist films is imagery that flashes into view as suddenly as a person’s dream. These images have the characteristic of disrupting the continuity of time and space. What distinguishes surrealist films—particularly those of Luis Buñuel—from conventional narrative films is that they do not follow a structure where a major event occurs and is then resolved; rather, events unfold in succession, allowing surrealistic expressions to seep in naturally.
For example, in Buñuel’s film ‘The Exquisite Obsession’, the protagonist first meets a woman at home. During a secret encounter that takes place at night, the woman appears in a different guise than when they first met. The next day, she disappears, only to be encountered again by chance in a park. Buñuel’s films are characterized by such a ceaseless succession of unexpected events. Another characteristic is the portrayal of women as dual beings in ‘The Exquisite Obscurity of Desire’. In real life, too, we often experience seeing a single person in multiple guises. This experience, which everyone has likely felt at least once, comes across as a kind of surreal sensation. It is one facet of human desire and also an inner experience that is difficult to share with others.
Buñuel’s films explore desire, voyeurism, and thoughts that are difficult to express openly in society. In particular, the greedy fantasies of the bourgeoisie frequently appear. The main characters in Buñuel’s films generally belong to the bourgeoisie, and they act as if they are maintaining aristocratic dignity. Through these characters, Buñuel reveals human desire. He lays bare on screen the secret inner worlds that people cannot voice and wish to conceal.
The films that came to mind as being similar to Buñuel’s were those of director Hong Sang-soo. While Hong Sang-soo’s films are often described as love stories, after watching Buñuel’s films in class, I was deeply shocked by how strikingly similar the two directors’ works are. The protagonists in Hong Sang-soo’s films are also mostly intellectuals. They reveal desires that contrast with their public image. They, too, are human and greedy beings. And they express, through the mask of intellectualism, the desires that the audience is hiding.
My favorite scene from Hong Sang-soo’s films is the scene at the Chinese restaurant in ‘A Woman Is a Man’s Future’. The two protagonists are drinking against the backdrop of a storefront window. As their drinking session continues, a woman stands outside the window the entire time. It’s unclear whether she’s waiting for someone or for a taxi, but she keeps checking her watch as she waits. The protagonists’ conversation continues, and the passage of time is implied. Yet the woman remains standing in the same spot. Then, as the scene draws to a close, she gets into a car and drives away.
Watching this scene, I thought that director Hong Sang-soo had been greatly influenced by the films of Luis Buñuel. The social classes of the characters in the films are also similar, and these elements appear in common. Another example is the scene in ‘The Theatre District’ where, upon opening the inn door, a blonde woman is standing there holding a basket of apples. I believe it is precisely these sudden and unexplained plot developments that make Hong Sang-soo’s films so compelling. I discovered similar scenes in the Luis Buñuel films we watched in class, and they had a profound impact on me.
Furthermore, the narrative progression and structure of Buñuel’s films were also highly compelling. Buñuel’s films seem to possess a flow akin to a rapid current. At first, it’s scary and hard to jump in, but once you muster the courage to enter the current, you naturally find yourself surrendering to the rapids. Because of this disruption of time, the audience gains a new perception of the time experienced within the film. Rather than the protagonist actively moving through the events, it feels as though the protagonist is standing still while situations surround and wash over him.
I don’t think I can definitively define experimental film based on my experience with Buñuel’s work. This is because I watched his films with a preexisting understanding of narrative. Furthermore, as I discovered similarities with Hong Sang-soo’s films, I naturally began to compare them. The emotions I feel inwardly when I see a woman in real life—the characters in the film, however, translate those emotions into action without hesitation. It was a truly captivating experience.
Until now, I had thought that experimental film began simply with the subversion of narrative. For example, the experimental films I commonly encountered would feature a woman appearing on screen, followed by a scene of her clutching her stomach, then a goldfish suddenly appearing, and then a scene of her crushing the goldfish with her hand. In other words, I thought of them as films in which the narrative had been deconstructed. However, watching Buñuel’s films made me realize that subversion alone does not constitute experimentation.
Buñuel’s films maintain a basic narrative structure while simultaneously transforming it. Rather than merely depicting fleeting images that appear in dreams, as in his early works, he gradually twists and deconstructs existing narrative structures. This experimental approach went on to have a widespread influence on modern cinema. I believe the films of director Hong Sang-soo, mentioned earlier, are a prime example of this influence.
What sets these films apart from conventional cinema lies not so much in the desire to see what is different, but rather in the human psychology of wanting to act on something while simultaneously restraining oneself. And it is precisely that repressed desire that is expressed on screen. Viewers form a sense of empathy as they watch it. However, because it is desire, these are things that cannot easily be put into action in reality. Yet, they are expressed within the film. I believe that is what is truly surreal. The common thread shared by Buñuel’s films, Hong Sang-soo’s films, and various experimental films is, ultimately, desire.
The experimental films I studied over the course of a semester were not, as I had assumed, merely about the forced deconstruction of narrative. Rather, they were films that allowed the audience to naturally experience the cracks and transformations in the narrative by establishing an appropriate sense of empathy. This is not simply ambiguity. Because the subject exists, it is, in fact, not ambiguous. There is a purpose, there is an object, and the characters surrounding that object move. And through their movements, a surreal narrative is created.
They were truly captivating films. They shattered the preconceptions I had about experimental film. They were films that stimulated a sense of self-awareness I could relate to to some extent, and I believe they will have a significant influence on my filmmaking process going forward.
It is often said that cinema evolves alongside technological advancements. Indeed, video technology, filming equipment, and visual effects have continuously advanced. However, the essential narrative of a story does not change drastically. What changes are the language and modes of expression used in each era, as well as the formats through which they are conveyed.
I do not consider Luis Buñuel’s films to be mere classics. Surrealism is not simply about dreams or ambiguity. It is a way of revealing things we cannot act upon in reality, things we cannot see or feel in reality, or things we have intentionally turned a blind eye to. In that sense, Buñuel’s films remain modern even today and possess a powerful impact.
