Petite-Bourgeoisie

Diary of a Chambermaid (1964) - Buñuel

A pretty Parisienne Celestine (Jeanne Moreau), comes to the county to be a chambermaid for the rich Monteil family, specifically to take care of M. Rabour, old frail father of Mme. Monteil, who is a snobby coldfish. Celestine finds herself the center of attention of sexually frustrated boorish man-child M. Monteil (Michel Piccoli), Rabour, Joseph the man servant, and a nosy retired army captain neighbor.

It being Buñuel film, it's an all out satire where no one is spared - the rich, the army, the religion, our heroine, and above all, the jingoistic whole France.

The old man dies suddenly and a little girl from the neighborhood is found raped and butchered. Celestine, suspecting the killer is Joseph, decides not to go back to Paris and stay with the family until she gets a confession out of him.

Even though Celestine is the only one who mourns the death of the little girl, it is suggested that she might have killed the old man during their foot fetish sessions- he was found dead clutching at the patented leather shoes he made her to wear.

With the use of wide angle lenses, dolly movements and zoom-ins, the film is technically impressive. But the two of the most striking images are static shots - of the dead girl's body obscured by a tree trunk and snails crawling over her lifeless legs and of the face of an old house servant, who's just told by Monteil to be sexually subjugated. Her tearful face says a thousand words.

In a world of Chambermaid, it's always the little ones, the powerless ones suffer and their sufferings go unnoticed and everyone is morally bankrupt swindlers. Celestine would go so far as bedding and marrying Joseph to admit his guilt and even ending up planting a discriminating evidence for the police against him. But being a petite-bourgeoisie, she ends up marrying the petty neighbor and becoming the Mme. of the house, ordering him around in the midst of the rise of national jingoistic fervor everywhere.

It's a great satire and impressively made one. But it's a hard film to like.

Rudeness, Violence and Filth

The Exterminating Angel/El Angel Exterminador (1962) - Buñuel

Elegant guests arrive for a dinner party at an opulent mansion, while servants excuse themselves to be off for the night. As the dinner progresses, the guests gossip and boast about their bourgeois whatever. Uncharacteristically, as if under a spell, all of them rationalize themselves to stay the night at the study. They say they have places to be and businesses to attend but they lay themselves down on various furniture and floor even. The next day, they rationally talk about this phenomenon. But no one wants to take the first step out of the study and through the dinning room to the door, not even to the kitchen. Days become weeks become months. They soon run out of food and water. Ming vases in the closet become toilets. Tempers fly and fights break out. It's a total anarchy. They burn furniture and floorboard for heat and cooking. They break water pipes under the brick wall (with an ornamental mace, no less) to quench their thirst. Sick die and couples commit suicide. Many succumb to hallucinations and madness.

The outside world- including family members of the self-imposed prisoners and police, has a standoff with the mansion. No one's taking a first step into the house either. One of the kids whose parents are in the house tries to get in, only to scamper away at the doorstep. His balloon flies away. Someone say the stench from the house is unbearable.

Buñuel's absurd take on hypocrisy of bourgeoisie is a great fun to watch. He is a brilliant satirist with a great sense of humor. The film never feels ham-fisted the way José Saramago's Blindness does. Love the cyclical ending too.