Most of you will have likely picked up on the abbreviated version of the quotation utilized above as the title. . . a reference to the seminal Eagles song ‘Hotel California’, which, in many ways, could be the title track of Luis Buñuel’s 1962 fantastical dramedy The Exterminating Angel. To further my point, look for the italicized text throughout the review, as it will be part of the classic rock tune.
From the mind of the master of surrealism comes this, just another one of his mind-benders, a tale that follows a group of extravagant people who come together for a lavish dinner party. And, though the mansion is such a lovely place, the servants who have worked there obediently for many years almost instinctively decide to depart (despite their duties), as the guests arrive. Only the major-domo, that is, the head servant of the household, stays to help.
With repetition playing an integral part in the filmmaker’s vision (twenty-seven instances, to be exact), the guests enter the upscale abode (twice), and in the master’s chambers, they gathered for the feast – the extravagant meal thoroughly enjoyed. After finishing, they settle into the cozy music/sitting room, and bizarrely, despite the late hour, none of them choose to leave.
Eventually, their heads grew heavy, their sight grew dim and they decide to stop for the night. . . only to realize in the morning’s light that none of them are able to leave – including the major-domo, who has brought them leftovers and coffee. Something inexplicable binds them to that room and time itself slows, not playing by the rules. Buñuel’s use of space, time and repetition leave the group stranded as if on a deserted island – concocting an unusual aura for the audience as well.
The upper statesmen and elegant aristocratic ladies slowly devolve over time. . . for when they ask, ‘please bring me my wine’ (or anything else for that matter), the servant’s response is ‘we haven’t had that spirit here since nineteen sixty-nine’. It is this lack of food, water, space and rhyme or reason that quickens each person’s respective madness (their prim and proper masks removed, etiquette thrown aside). Some attempt to figure a way out, others scheme, while most blame others (often the resident party-throwers) for their present situation. Living in their own filth (on top of the mess around them, a three door armoire is used as bathroom, storage for a dead body, as well as for sexual shenanigans), thoughts of murder, suicide, thievery and treachery run amok in their minds, many giving in to their baser instincts – doing things they once only thought were acted upon by the proletarian people of society. Figuratively speaking, they stab it with their steely knives, But they just can’t kill the beast.
A sharp satire, Buñuel illustrates the ways in which the opinions and beliefs of individuals are perched on the slimmest edge of a knife, for it does not take much for them to go against everything they once held dear (religion, reason, manners, and other elitist perspectives). In many ways, it is a perversion of these things that leads to such chaos in the room – they turn to sacrifice, ritual, dreams and murder to solve their problems. Perhaps it is not that shocking (their lack of care for others), for at one point a guest explains that she witnessed “the third class compartment [of a train], full of common people, had been squashed like a huge accordion. . .the suffering of those poor people didn’t move me at all”, though she fainted upon witnessing a dead prince, in all his grandeur – which not only shows her priorities, but her skewed viewpoint. To return to dreams for a moment, there is a superb moment in which one character sees a severed hand creeping towards her (she tries to crush and stab it) – a scene similar to others found in the director’s filmography.
Funnily enough, Buñuel never explained his symbolic perspectives. When Cannes film critics asked him why there was a wandering bear in the film (a party gag that satirizes the guests later actions), biographer Francisco Aranda recounts that he promptly retorted “‘because my father likes bears’”. And, according to Aranda, “It’s true. There are those who interpret the bear as the Soviet Union about to devour the bourgeoisie. That is nonsense. Then they asked him what was the meaning of the repetitions of shots in the film. . . [Buñuel’s answer] ‘when I finished the film I decided it was still short, so to lengthen it’”. Leaving it to the audience to decide, ‘this could be heaven or this could be Hell’, or perhaps ‘we are all prisoners here, of our own device’.
A richly atmospheric feature that ensnares us much like the trapped guests, The Exterminating Angel toys with the audience, surrealist fantasy set in some sort of weird time-space continuum. As a closing line, I turn once again to the song referenced so many times above (as it hints to the film’s conclusion. . . and adds a repetitious feeling to this analysis, which, in turn, ties into the picture’s circular plot) – last thing I remember, I was running for the door. I had to find the passage back to the place I was before. . .You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave!
This film is in Spanish with English subtitles
It sounds like everything but the kitchen sink was thrown into this movie. I don’t think
I’d be interested in viewing this.I do however like the Eagles song Hotel California!