“An iconoclast, moralist, and revolutionary.” When he died in 1983, these were the words chosen by The New York Times to epitomize Luis “The King of Surrealism” Buñuel. Across his lifetime, the award-winning Spanish filmmaker worked on no less than 33 movies, the sum of which earned him those descriptors.
Three years after his first feature “The Golden Age,” a controversial satire on bourgeois society and Catholicism co-written by Salvador Dali, Buñuel began to demonstrate the broad diversity of his talents. Persuaded by French cinematographer Eli Lotar to depart from his surrealist norm, Buñuel set off to make a documentary on the primitive community of Extremadura in the mountainous Las Hurdes region of Spain. The making of “Las Hurdes: Land Without Bread,” one of his lesser-known, but most crucial, works, is followed in Salvador Simó’s stunning animated film “Buñuel in the Labyrinth of the Turtles.”
If you venture outside of the typical family-friendly animated fare, there lies a fairly epic catalog of beautifully peculiar, foreign-language animations such as Sylvain Chomet’s Oscar-nominated “The Triplets of Belleville” and Marcell Jankovics’ “Son of the White Mare.” While not quite as odd as those films, “Buñuel in the Labyrinth of the Turtles” is an unmistakably strange little curio, as its the feature-length animated film that covers the making of a short doc. Not the easiest thing to sell to audiences, obviously. However, it’s an inspired idea, in keeping with the progressive nature of the subject’s expansive body of work. Simó exploits the medium to depict real-life events, as well as the surreal creations of Buñuel’s subconscious that haunt him and play on his crippling fear of failure.
“Buñuel in the Labyrinth of the Turtles” kicks off in a smoky Parisian café, the day before “The Golden Age” is released. Sipping coffee, a group of colleagues furiously debate the provocative character of surrealism. It’s when they look to a quiet Buñuel (Jorge Usón giving an effortless performance) for a contribution, we know we’ve got someone who likes to color outside the lines. He sits at the end of the table, garbed as a nun, and demonstrating that same rule-breaking spirit throughout the film’s 80-minute runtime.
This makes it easy to admire the man, both as a cartoon character and as a filmmaker – mainly if you, too, are at odds with social mores. Despite evident charisma, much about Buñuel, as he’s represented here, leaves a sour aftertaste. A contemptible disregard for the wellbeing of Extremadura’s animals is but one of his less palatable traits. However, it’s no accident we dislike Buñuel to some extent, as Simó and co-writer Eligio R. Montero use disagreements between him and co-producer Ramón Acín – a good friend and an undisputable linchpin of reason – to remind the audience just how obnoxious the director could be at times.
The pair take such knowledge, relating to Buñuel and his eccentric disposition, and add it to presumably fictional elements to craft an utterly captivating – if occasionally uncomfortable – tale of compassion and determination. The fact that ‘Turtles’ probably isn’t entirely historically accurate doesn’t really matter, especially considering Buñuel’s sometimes brutal inclination to stage scenes to accentuate the extreme conditions in which his subjects were living. The tenacious filmmaker portrayed – and obviously admired – by Simó and Montero may be guided by a self-serving professional agenda to shock his viewers, but we feel his empathy for these people regardless. They’re so poor and isolated they’ve never encountered bread – thus “Land Without Bread” – and Buñuel truly seems to care about helping them.
The striking and distinctive animation in “Buñuel in the Labyrinth of the Turtles” – comparable to the unrefined style of Revolution Software’s “Broken Sword” video game franchise – is peppered with snippets from the original documentary. This is a bold creative choice, which might easily have been irritating and distracting. Oddly though, it works, offering a compelling juxtaposition between two very different worlds – one multi-colored, yet muted, and the other monochrome – tied neatly together by Arturo Cardelús’ gorgeous, rich score.
The nice little chunk of film history it is, “Buñuel in the Labyrinth of the Turtles” salutes a brilliant director without gushing praise for him – well, maybe just a smidge. At its heart, the film tells an incredibly touching – and altogether unexpected – human story. Entertaining and educational in equal parts, Simó’s animated film is one you don’t want to skip. [A-]