Buñuel In the Labyrinth of the Turtles Review

How do you depict Luis Buñuel, one of the greatest iconoclasts in cinema, and get away with it? Surrealism, irony, dreams, and realities make his work a constant inspiration, and a constant trouble to describe.

Based on the graphic novel by Fermin Solis, the project was first brought to the forefront by Spanish producer Manuel Cristobal (of Wrinkles / Arrugas la pelicula). Director Salvador Simó had to spend hours of research to isolate the necessary elements to describe what was essentially a very confined but still clearly identifiable story.

The subject matter of Buñuel in the Labyrinth of the Turtles (Buñuel en el laberinto de las tortugas, production: Sygnatia / Glow / Submarine Amsterdam / Hampa Studio) verges on the animation documentary territory. Yet even if the film utilizes both live-action (Buñuel's own 1933 Land Without Bread) and animation, it has a certain distance from the more politically-tinted Spanish/Polish feature Another Day of Life (Raúl de la Fuente and Damian Nenow, 2018). Buñuel and the Labyrinth of Turtles is more the story of a flourishing, talented but insecure artist with all kinds of questions.

This effectively compassionate film begins in 1930s Paris, where a theatrical screening of the Spanish director's L’Âge d’Or causes havoc among the audience. The surrealism of the early film scenes in the fashionable Paris cafes, where surrealism is contrasted with political action, suddenly finds its bitter reflection. Surrealist Buñuel (Jorge Usón) needs to face an uncertain future, since no Parisian financier is willing to put their hands on his projects (the Catholic Church is an overpowering force). A lottery ticket and the friend Ramón Acin (Fernando Ramos), who's willing to abandon his family to accompany the young director, is the first episode that sets the film in the Las Hurdes mountains in northern Spain. Buñuel will now need to prove his social commitment and talent.

For a film that needs to juggle both surrealism and documentary (as Buñuel himself did), it effectively balances showcasing Buñuel's materials while narrating his own demons and dreams (hence the turtles). Even though at times the celebrated director's oeuvre really stands out from everything presented on screen, both the script (co-written by Eligio Montero and Salvador Simó) and direction ensure that the life of an artist can be presented as extraordinary. The usual association of animation with animals now finds its sweet revenge here, since it is the animals that torture Buñuel in animated life; in turn, he tortures them in his real expedition.

Focusing more on the life of a film crew during shooting - Pierre Unik (Luis Enrique de Tomás) and Eli Lotar (Cyril Corral) are Buñuel's collaborators- the film needs to recreate a journey almost one century later, when poverty on screen is nothing new. It does this by concentrating not much on the episodes themselves, but on what constitutes an artistic mission. The famous reality that Buñuel seeks and will fabricate when it is not readily available is here, distinctly represented. The spacious, barren land they have to travel (coupled with the dangerous turns to ride with their very expensive car) makes its presence a lot. The locals are also designed with rough outlines to look rugged and (sometimes) the fools of the village. But not everyone is a happy peasant in the film, and both officials and locals know what it is to be filmed (and sometimes can use their power or cunning to their advantage).

Still, the main focus is Buñuel himself and his troubled character compared with the more earthy (but clearly supportive) Ramón. The director's story begins in Calanda, 1909, with his childhood and fear of his father, and concludes with his fear of roosters. In between, we see an irritable, talented, but weak and tortured personality. Buñuel, as a cinematic character, is unpredictable yet affectionate, humorous, and a suffering child. It is to the credit of the film that doesn't shy away from some disturbing scenes -even though one would certainly welcome more sumptuous dreams and imaginative nightmare sequences (the Parisian streets nightmare sequence is a standout here). Arturo Cardelús' score can resonate with both Parisian and rural environments, building a sense of community throughout. Whereas shadows and hues work to the film's advantage, character design (especially in Buñuel) still needs more to capture the fervor behind the man.

Buñuel in the Labyrinth of the Turtles has a bigger gamble than most independent animation features; it needs to confront both a prejudice against animation for grown-ups and a close scrutiny of the subject matter of the film itself. By confining itself to a certain slice of life, it becomes a solid and considerate effort, almost soothing in its treatment of the celebrated director's inner troubles and external obstacles. Definitely a film to watch.

Vassilis Kroustallis

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