“Luis Bunuel lived many lives – surrealist, Spanish Civil War propagandist, hedonist, friend of artists and poets, and filmmaker. With surprising candor and wit. A provocative memoir from Luis Buñuel, the Academy Award winning creator of some of modern cinema’s most important films, from Un Chien. As with so many books that are magnificent reads, Luis Bunuel’s My Last Sigh ( written with the help of Jean-Claude Carriere) is almost.

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My Last Sigh

Life without memory is no life at all Our memory is our coherence, our reason, our feeling, even our action. Without it we are nothing. Why is something this way and not another? How do you account for that?

This rage to understand, to fill in the blanks, only makes life more banal. If we could only find the courage to leave our destiny to chance, to accept the fundamental mystery of our lives, then we might be closer to the sort of happiness that comes with innocence.

A ruling nation can impose its culture and give a worldwide fame to a second-rate writer like Ernest Hemingway. John Steinbeck is important due to American guns. Life without memory is no life at all. I’d like to be able to make that demand; commemorative ceremonies are not only false but dangerous, as are all statues luiis famous men. Long live forgetfulness, I’ve always said—the only dignity I see is in oblivion. I’ve tried my whole life simply to accept the images that present themselves to me without trying to analyze them.


I remember when we were shooting That Obscure Object of Desire in Seville and I suddenly found myself telling Fernando Rey, at the end of a scene, to pick bunnuel a big sack filled with tools lying on a bench, sling it over his shoulder, and walk away.

The action was completely irrational, yet it seemed absolutely right to me. Still, I was worried about it, so I shot two versions of the scene: But during the rushes the following day, the whole crew agreed that the scene was much better with the sack. I can’t explain it, and I don’t enjoy rummaging around in the cliches of psychoanalysis.

Above all else, it must be quiet, dark, very comfortable – and, contrary to modern mores, no music of any kind, no matter how faint. In sum, there should be no more than a dozen tables, and a client that doesn’t like to talk. Aesthetic concerns have played a relatively minor role in my life, and I have to smile when a critic talks, for example, of my “palette”.

My Last Sigh by Luis Buñuel

I find it impossible to spend hours in galleries analyzing and gesticulating. But I would sugh kill a man who thinks that he has found the truth. When I listen to music it’s as if the letters in a text were changing places with one another, rendering the words unintelligible and muddying the lines.


I’d consider my puis age redeemed if my hearing were to come back, for music would be the gentlest opiate, calming my fears as I move toward death. In any case, I suppose the only chance I have for that kind of miracle involves nothing short of a visit to Lourdes. Nothing, a murky shadow. My passage on this earth is too rapid to leave any traces; it counts for nothing in space or in time.

My Last Sigh by Luis Bunuel | : Books

God really doesn’t pay any attention to us, so even if he exists, it’s as if he didn’t. My form of atheism, however, leads inevitably to an acceptance of the inexplicable. Mystery is inseparable from chance, and our whole universe is a mystery. Since I reject the idea of a divine watchmaker a notion even more mysterious than the mystery it supposedly explainsthen I must consent to live in a kind of shadowy confusion.

And insofar as no explication, even the simplest, works for everyone, I’ve chosen my mystery. At least it keeps my moral freedom intact. All Quotes Add A Quote.

My Last Sigh by Luis Bunuel – PopMatters

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