FOR YOUR EYES ONLY
My reaction to Ro's naked glaze in the men’s locker room at the gym conjures up the memory of a pregnant moment in Luis Bunuel’s film, Un Chien Andalou. (Or perhaps it is really an abortive moment?).
Here’s the scene from my memory:
A delicate young woman is seated on a chair in a limbo setting. (A kind of space that’s everywhere and nowhere.) A man, gentlemen-like. stands right behind her. The two are in portrait mode, gazing at the audience. They look as if they know that they are being watched (at least by the camera). The audience sitting in the theater is surely less reflective, less aware, watching at will and without reproach from the safety of their cushiony seats.
Slowly, the man lifts up his arm to reveal a straight-edged razor. He holds it tenderly in his hand. The camera then creeps in for a close-up of the woman’s face, and comes to rest only when one of her eyeballs fully fills the screen.
The macro eyeball is raw, bulbous, and viscous. The spatial relationship is disorienting. The effect is unsettling. Suddenly, the activity of seeing becomes an object to contemplate, and no doubt to question – as in, “what’s going on here?” Bunuel’s answer is nothing short of the unthinkable. The frozen moment is about to become thoroughly chilling. The razor blade slides across the smooth and silky surface of the defenseless eyeball. It cuts deep. (I believe Bunuel used a real cow’s eye. No special effects here.)
Yes, the eye is disfigured. But what’s more disturbing is that the entire “space” is ruptured. The space on the screen. The space between the viewer and the screen. The space inside the viewer’s mind. I remember at the moment of incision turning away, not wanting to ‘see’. Abort the space. Now, years later, I still don’t really want to ‘see’ this moment. It’s almost too much for the mind’s eye to take in.
So what’s the learning here? First off, if you haven’t seen this Bunuel film, do so. (And keep your eyes peeled for the eyeball scene.) Secondly, try to always watch where you’re going. Otherwise you might end up in a space that’s not always pretty to look at, or be seen in. You know, like a men’s locker room.
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2 comments:
What strikes me is that although these are only words, the language is visual and art-form. For some reason, I also see it in Black & White when you tell the story.
The powerful and horrific visual silence created by the words is "ruptured" by the interactive ending, which brings me back to (pleasant) earth with a such a soft landing, I didn't even realize I was back.
Bunuel is usually so incomprehensible to me—but what you’ve written here helps me understand at least this part of his work. By the way, it strikes me as both a pregnant and an abortive moment!
My scientific side makes me wonder what happens when space is “ruptured,” though. Rupturing usually enters negative space rather than leaving it. What happens to a space’s surroundings when that space is ruptured? What happens to our psyches when the space surrounding them ruptures?
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