Bunuel_Luis_My_Last_Breath

seen a hand crawling with ants in a dream he'd had the previousnight."And what if we started right there and made a film?" he wonderedaloud.Despite my hesitation, we soon found ourselves hard at work,and in less than a week we had a script. Our only rule was verysimple: No idea or image that might lend itself to a rational explanationof any kind would be accepted. We had to open all doors tothe irrational and keep only those images that surprised us, withouttrying to explain why. The amazing thing was that we never hadthe slightest disagreement; we spent a week of total identification."A man fires a double bass," one of us would say."No," replied the other, and the one who'd proposed the ideaaccepted the veto and felt it justified. On the other hand, when theimage proposed by one was accepted by the other, it immediatelyseemed luminously right and absolutely necessary to the scenario.When the script was finished, I realized that we had such anoriginal and provocative movie that no ordinary production companywould touch it. So once again I found myself asking my mother forbacking, which, thanks to our sympathetic attorney, she consentedto provide. I wound up taking the money back to Paris and spendinghalfof it in my usual nightclubs; ultimately, however, I settled downand contacted the actors Pierre Batcheff and Simone Mareuil, Duvergerthe cameraman, and made a deal to use the Billancourt studios.The filming took two weeks; there were only five or six of usinvolved, and most of the time no one quite knew what he wasdoing."Stare out the window and look as if you're listening to Wagner,"I remember telling Batcheff. "No, no-not like that. Sadder. Muchsadder. "Batcheff never even knew what he was supposed to be lookingat, but given the technical knowledge I'd managed to pick up,Duverger and I got along famously. Dali arrived on the set a few