Review of That Obscure Object of Desire (1977) by Blake P — 07 Nov 2014

Our obsessions can sometimes get the best of us. Whether or not it's a piece of art we want to perfect or a person we're dangerously fixated on, as long as you can't grasp your desires with your own two hands, it's as bothersome as a mosquito picking at your arm.

Mathieu (Fernando Rey) is having such a dilemma. He is middle-aged, impeccably dressed, and well-mannered. He has been a widower for a few years, and the lifestyle of a lonely, wealthy man has been suiting him well. But that all changes when he meets Conchita, who is hired as a chambermaid. Conchita is 18, sly, and ethereally beautiful; she's played by two different women, Carole Bouquet and Ángela Molina. Mathieu wants her, Conchita reciprocates ... but she won't sleep with him.

When we first catch a glimpse of Mathieu and Conchita's erotic love-hate relationship, they are on the hate side. Mathieu barely misses a train, but once he boards, a young woman chases after him. She dons a black eye, tears awaiting in her eyes. Mathieu tips the conductor, and in return, he receives a bucket, fills it with water, and dumps it onto Conchita's poor, beautiful head. At first, we think she's merely a victim. But there's more than what meets the eye.

Once Mathieu finds his seat, the passengers among him stare at him with intense curiosity. After all, the scene they just witnessed was straight out of a telenovela or a Hollywood melodrama. As soon as Mathieu begins to explain himself, we are drifted back into flashbacked storytelling; that's when the film officially begins.

"That Obscure Object of Desire" is Luis Buñuel's final film. Few would choose to explore the themes of sexual frustration as a swan song, but yet again, one of Buñuel's most memorable moments in his long career was when he mock-sliced a woman's eyeball in 1929.

Buñuel's odd decision to cast two actresses in the role of Conchita sounds strange in concept but in actuality is a brilliant move. In the more sophisticated, glamorous settings, she is portrayed by Bouquet, who possesses a sort of French New Wave attractiveness that is reminiscent of Catherine Deneuve's famous coldness. In the more hot and heavy, emotionally sarcastic scenes, the buxom Molina takes over, showing Conchita's more fiery, teasing side. But in either situation, Conchita is a both a fixture and a woman of otherworldly dimensions; Bouquet and Molina are superb.

Because she is played by two different women, the point Buñuel is trying to make is abundantly clear: Conchita's allure has nothing to do with her looks. Her inaccessibility is what makes her such a catch. Most likely, Mathieu has always gotten everything's he's wanted, from the time he was merely a child. The more he attempts to court Conchita, the stronger his simultaneous hate and passion for her becomes.

He buys her expensive gifts. He lets her stay in his luxurious mansion. He pays off her mother's debts. He treats her like a goddess. While she says she loves him and has a clear appreciation of his favors, she simply will not give her body to him. Mathieu doesn't understand. How could he, a man usually treated with such respect, be rejected without any thought? He has bought Conchita everything she could ever want.

His torture is both endless and fascinating. He is repulsed but unable to back away; no matter what Conchita does, the fact that Mathieu will never know what's she's like in bed could kill him. It's a shallow thought, yes, but "That Obscure Object of Desire" provides us with the fact that we don't truly know how much our wants and needs can affect us until it's proven that we can never attain them.

Rey gives such a conflicted performance that it's hard not to feel sympathy for him. The premise of the film is so simple, and Rey's dilemma is almost of teenaged ambition; but you can tell that even if his conceptual love of Conchita is stronger than his authentic adoration, the constant rejection is like a slow dosage of poison. She says she loves him, but would someone who loves you really put you through so much pain? Through all of Mathieu's tears, bitterness, and closed off emotions, Rey is a knockout.

In one of the final shots of the film, Mathieu and Conchita peer through a shoppe window; inside, a woman is fixing a hole in a piece of bloodied cloth. We take a closer look; the hole has not been formed by an accident - instead, the woman is puncturing a hole, fixing it, puncturing it, fixing it again, and on and on. It mirrors the previous events in "That Obscure Object of Desire"; the desire grows, is destroyed by Conchita, is renewed, until Conchita destroys it again. Sexual frustration can suck, and "That Obscure Object of Desire" is a film that tops nearly every final film is any director's filmography.