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Both actresses, each making her debut (or nearly) sustains this layering by giving multi-dimensional performances. Bunuel doesn’t traffic in clichés and so each has her moment to play the virgin and the whore, yes, but also to gain the upper hand, to cede power, to extend to the befuddled widower a tender hand, and to just as cruelly revoke it. Conversely, Rey constructs Mathieu as the model of urbanity, in his grooming, his impeccable manners, and his bearing and then through his crumpled posture, his flashes of violence and his fiery eyes, suggests how easily he sheds his veneer of civility. I noted earlier how similar moments in Bunuel’s film seemed to the earlier silent French version. With the emphasis on the physicality of the performances by the three leads and with the indelible supporting performances like those of Andre Weber as Mathieu’s indispensable valet/confidant/man Friday, I can easily imagine the film having a similar impact with the volume on mute.

And I bring that up, because in a further quirk, French actor Michel Piccoli dubs Rey’s voice. This act mirrors the twinning of Conchita but I can find no concrete explanation for this on the Web or in the interview/essay booklet that accompanies the DVD. Rey’s health does not appear to be an issue and he had appeared in several earlier Bunuel films without being dubbed. As with the use of two actresses, even if there is a perfectly rational, lucid explanation, it doesn’t change the fact that it extends the themes of the film even further. On a side note, I attempted to watch the film a third time using the English dubbed track, but in spite of the fact that the dialogue dubbed in proved to be a near mirror image of the English subtitles, the voices seemed to have been culled from generic American cop show central and it proved too distracting to see through to the end.

That Obscure Object of Desire captivates me with its unnerving air of suspended menace and Bunuel’s willingness to see his bittersweet and caustic tale through to a sort-of happy ending (tellingly in which we hear neither Mathieu’s or Conchita’s voice) and then one step beyond to an ambiguous apocalypse. If earlier Bunuel (like earlier Irving) still seems to maintain more of a hold over me at this point in life, I am willing to make allowances that I still have (a little) youth on my side and I may have a ways to go in order to meet the artist as an elderly man even halfway.

Next time: I dip my toes into the avant-garde with a just released retrospective from the director of my favorite short film of all time. DVD Spine #607.

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