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  • Warning: Spoilers
    It's difficult not to suspect that the fictional Luis (played by José Luis Gómez) stands for director Saura; they both were born in provincial cities and moved to Madrid in search of the big time. Saura grew up in a cultured milieu, while Luis had to shovel coal for a living, which is presented in an overly melodramatic, almost Gothic (and somewhat funny) fashion. Some of Luis' reminiscences of his childhood during the Civil War are in fact Saura's.

    In Madrid, we see Luis teaching acting in Actors Studio style to a group of students and preparing a play about political repression and torture, based on, among others, the 1976 military coup in Argentina. Spanish dictator Francisco Franco had died in 1975 and his regime's contribution to torture and repression was second to none but the subject was taboo in post-Franco Spain, as it is even now to a large extent.

    Luis' love interest is Emilia (played by Geraldine Chaplin). She descends upon him bouncing from a relationship gone bad, a situation of which Luis is not innocent. Emilia is (as she says) in the process of "finding herself" and decides to try acting, becoming a part of Luis' class. She is self conscious, refuses to participate in some of the exercises and generally embarrasses Luis. She is finally assigned a role in the play, a long monologue by a victim of torture. We hear the monologue twice: the first time by an actress with Buenos Aires accent whose reading is deeply moving, the second time by Emilia, with much less effect.

    At the time Saura and Chaplin were in an ebbing long term relationship (he remarried in 1982) and one cannot help but guess that the movie has an autobiographical (at times satirical) component. Luis is a world class seducer without even trying; all his students are in love with him and, as a young man, he is even jumped by his aunt, with which he lives. The choice of Gómez as Luis seems to be somewhat perverse. Gómez was (and is) an excellent actor but he doesn't play as expected; in fact, his gestures and movements bring sometimes to mind (the then unknown) Rowan Atkinson. The young Geraldine Chaplin is strikingly beautiful and charismatic and a joy on screen but her character is presented as pushy, opportunistic, manipulative and having objectives beyond her reach.

    Whether these connections are real or "no identification with actual persons (living or deceased) is intended or should be inferred" this is a well crafted film with high production values. It seems to have received much less attention than other movies by Saura.
  • At long last I was able to see this film last night as part of a(n) (incomplete) Carlos Saura retrospective sponsored by the Film Society of Lincoln Center in New York City. Having been a big fan of the director's CRIA CUERVOS (1976) and ELISA, VIDA MIA (1977), both of which were shown commercially in the United States and warmly received, I was dismayed when LOS OJOS VENDADOS (1978) received no theatrical release and never turned up as part of previous Carlos Saura retrospectives in NYC.

    Saura's collaborations with Geraldine Chaplin are the shining lights of his career and LOS OJOS VENDADOS is no exception. Her presence in this film is indispensable to its success, and she is never less than mesmerizing. I would need at least another viewing to begin to appreciate fully the film's layers and nuances -- the ways it links falling in love with the disintegration of existing relationships; persistence of memories with dreams and nightmares; persecution by self, others and society with political terrorism.

    The film is filled with unforgettable imagery and haunting moments. Except for two overlong and overdone sequences (ironically, one of which is a dance scene given that Saura's reputation today rests mostly on his dance films), LOS OJOS VENDADOS is one of Saura's strongest films. The final 5 minutes are unforgettable.

    By the time he made LOS OJOS VENDADOS, Saura had definitely developed an identifiable style of his own, and it is a pity that his 1970s films are largely ignored and/or unavailable today. Unseen in New York for 28 years, LOS OJOS VENDADOS drew only a handful of viewers at the showing I saw. The film cries out for restoration (the print the Film Society managed to unearth was faded pink and had a botched subtitling job). It is perhaps an even more relevant and powerful film now than it was in 1978.