Bunuel_Luis_My_Last_Breath

on the boat from Madrid to Mexico, I decided to write my ownscreenplay about a woman I called Viridiana, in memory of a littleknownsaint I'd heard about when I was a schoolboy. As I worked,I remembered my old erotic fantasy about making love to the queenof Spain when she was drugged, and decided somehow to combinethe stories.My friend Julio Alejandro helped me write the script, but pointedout that we'd have to make the movie in Spain. I accepted oh thecondition that we work with Bardem Productions, since they had areputation for opposition to Franco. Yet despite this proviso, the~e~ublican'imi~rks in Mexico were vociferous in their protests. Onceagain I was attacked, but this time from my own side. Some of myfriends came to my defense, and a nasty debate began as to whethermy making a movie in Spain was or wasn't treason. Some time later,Isaac drew a cartoon depicting, in the first square, Franco awaitingmy arrival. In the second square, while I'm disembarking, carryingthe Vzridiana reels, a chorus of outraged voices is crying "Traitor!Traitor!" The voices continue to shout in the next box, while Francogreets me warmly and accepts the reels, which, in the last box, blowup in his face.The movie was indeed shot in Madrid, and on a beautiful estateoutside the city; I had a reasonable budget for once, good actors, andan eight-week timetable. I worked once again with Francisco Rabaland for the first time with Fernando Rey and Silvia Pinal. Some ofthe older actors with bit parts had known me since Don Quhth inthe 1930s. I remember in particular the remarkable character whoplayed the leper. He was half beggar, half madman, and was allowedto live in the studio courtyard during the shooting. The man paidno attention whatsoever to my directions, yet he's marvelous in themovie. Some time later, two French tourists passed him sitting ona bench in Burgos and, recognizing him from the film, congratulatedhim on his performance. Before they'd finished, he'd leapt to hisfeet, gathered up his few belongings, tossed his bundle of clothesover his shoulder, and walked off, saying, "I'm going to Paris. There,at least, they know who I am." He died on the way.