Bunuel_Luis_My_Last_Breath

In the end, I agreed to have dinner, along with Georges andNora Auric, at their mansion on the place des Etats-Unis, a jewel ofa house which contained an incredible art collection."Our proposal," Charles de Noailles said to me after dinner aswe sat in front of the fire, "is that you make a twenty-minute film.You'll have complete freedom to do whatever you want. There isonly one condition: we have an agreement with Stravinsky to writethe music for it. ""Sorry," I replied, "but can you imagine me collaborating withsomeone who's always falling to his knees and beating his breast?"(That's what people were saying about Stravinsky.)De Noailles's reaction was totally unexpected, and earned himmy lasting admiration."You're quite right," he said. "You and Stravinsky would neverget along. You choose your composer, and then go make your film.We'll find another project for Igor."I accepted, collected an advance, and went to join Dali in Figueras.When I arrived in Figueras, it was Christmas 1929. At first, allI could hear were angry shouts; then suddenly the door flew openand, purple with rage, Dali's father threw his son out, calling himevery name in the book. Dali screamed back while his father pointedto him and swore that he hoped never to see that pig in his houseagain. The rage of the elder Dali was perfectly understandable; itseems that on one of his paintings then at a show in Barcelona, Dalihad written-in black ink and large, sloppy letters-"I spit joyfullyon my mother's portrait"!Banished from Figueras, Dali and I went to his house in Cadaquis,where we began to work. After a couple of days, however, itwas obvious that the magical rapport we'd had during Un Chimandalou was gone. Perhaps it was already Gala's influence. In anycase, we couldn't agree on anything; we found each other's suggestionsimpossible, and the vetoes were fast and furious. In the end,we separated amicably, and I wrote the screenplay alone, at the deNoailles' in Hykres. They left me entirely to my own devices during