Bunuel_Luis_My_Last_Breath

After I'd returned to New York, a letter arrived from Dr. Alexander,telling me he'd seen the film and, as he put it, "was scaredto death." It goes without saying that he wanted nothing further todo with me. I found his reaction incrediblewhat kind of a doctorwould use that sort of language? Would you tell your life story to apsychologist who was "scared to death" by a movie? How couldanyone take this man seriously?Needless to say, I never made my schizophrenic movie.Obviously, I like obsessions, my own as well as other people's,because they make it easier to deal with life; I feel sorry for peoplewho don't have any. And I like solitude, as long as someone dropsby for a chat from time to time.But then there's the problem of sombreros, which I hate, as I doall "official" forms of folklore. Mexican chuwos are fine when I comeacross them in the country, but when they put on those oversizedhats weighed down with yards of gold thread and parade aroundnightclub stages, I'm revolted.Dwarves, on the other hand, fascinate me. I've worked withseveral of them during my lifetime and have found them intelligent,thoroughly likable, and surprisingly self-assured. In fact, most ofthem seem to feel perfectly comfortable with their size and are convincedthat nothing could persuade them to change places with themore conventional human model. They also seem to have an impressiveamount of sexual energy; the dwarf in Nazarin alternatedregularly between two normal-sized mistresses in Mexico City. Indeed,many women I've met seem to have a predilection for dwarves,perhaps because they can play both child and lover.I despise the spectacle we've made of death, yet I also feel acertain fascination for strange funeral rites. The mummies in Guanajuato,for instance, are astonishingly well preserved because of thequality of the soil; their ties, their buttons, the black crescents undertheir nails, are still intact. In a strange way, seeing them is like goingto visit a friend who's been dead for fifty years. I remember a storyErnesto Garcia once told me about his father, who was an adminis-