The_Film_That_Changed_My_Life

The Exterminating Angel
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And I think—without getting too pointy-headed and analytical about
Buñuel, who sometimes just throws in this stuff for fun—there’s a kind of
repetitious mindlessness. Repetitiousness in the rituals of the bourgeoisie
that underlines this kind of repetition, where they keep going through these
rituals over and over and over again, in a slavish way. And it has that impact.
Also, in the midst of a film, with no particular warning, it really knocks you
for a loop.
One of the interviewers in the booklet that comes with the Criterion
DVD points out that this film seems to be a better-dressed version of
The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie. What do you think of that?
Gibney: Well, I think there are certain themes that come up with Buñuel over
and over again. In The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie he had evolved a little
bit more. He takes this theme and works it out a little bit more playfully.
But I do think they’re very similar. They all revolve around eating. He did
another film that I didn’t think was quite so successful in which he kind of set
that ritual: People excuse themselves to go to the eating room, and meanwhile
the dining table is actually the defecating table, where everybody’s shitting
together. And then he has them excuse themselves to go and actually grab
something to eat in what looks like a bathroom but has become the eating
room, as a way of showing how arbitrary these rituals are.
That wasn’t so successful for me, but The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie,
which I think is a brilliant film, does take off on the same idea
of The Exterminating Angel—these rituals that never really seem to lead
anywhere. In the case of The Exterminating Angel, it’s a roach motel. They
can check in but they can’t check out. In The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie,
they never get to eat. They always show up for these dinners, or
even tea, and the restaurant is mysteriously closed. So they always try to
eat and they never get to. It’s always interrupted. In Exterminating Angel,
they can’t leave. It’s similar.
Buñuel had a very particular way of dealing with his actors. There’s a
famous story about how he smeared them with bits of honey and dirt
to make them uncomfortable. I’m wondering what, as a filmmaker,