Anyone can make a satire – the difference is that not everyone can do so effectively, to the point where their entire career is formed from being able to represent a very particular side of the human condition in a way that is hilarious and insightful, and perhaps a bit disturbing. For several decades, Luis Buñuel stood at the forefront of this movement, and whether working in his native Spain or adopted homelands of Mexico or France, he was consistently pushing the envelope to its absolute limits. The result is a string of exceptional dark comedies and psychological thrillers that blend humour and terror in incredible ways – and in his lengthy career, he amassed quite a few contenders for his greatest film, which has led to a lot of contention around what constitutes his best work. The one film that everyone seems to agree comes closest to being his masterpiece, particularly in how it captures every element of his style and narrative prowess, is Viridiana, in which he tells the story of a young nun on the verge of taking her vows, but who is coerced into spending time with her sickly uncle, who is far more invested in marrying his niece, since she bears a striking resemblance to his late wife. The result is a harsh but brilliant satire that aims at the social system in creative and compelling ways and features many of the qualities that Buñuel would go on to refine in films like The Exterminating Angel and The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, both of which contain many elements that were introduced in this, his first in a wave of satirical dark comedies that set the standard for the latter half of his career. Scathing and brilliant, but never anything less than thoroughly engaging, what Buñuel achieves in Viridiana is something of a minor miracle, with its sharp wit and strong story laying the groundwork for many years of exceptional storytelling that pushed these kinds of stories to the forefront, showing that they are more than capable of not only being entertaining but also extremely insightful and deeply intelligent at the same time.

No one ever forgets their first encounter with a filmmaker like Buñuel – for generations, he has been viewed as one of the most brilliantly subversive minds of his generation, and his work is reflective of some fascinating themes that interested him as a filmmaker as much as it compelled him as a social critic and observer of the human condition. However, unlike some of his contemporaries, his perspective was not bound by the act of simply capturing reality (even his attempts at non-fiction filmmaking in a project like Land Without Bread have a slight flair that proves he always had his vision firmly planted within the realm of the absurd), and he constantly pushed boundaries. This film offers him the opportunity to develop a lot of these ideas, especially since it is such a simple narrative that he renders exceptionally well through his singular vision. We find Viridiana is defined by the director’s sharp, scathing sense of humour – no one was ever immune to his radical perspective, and he developed such a unique style, that it seems impossible to imagine anyone else making films on such a unique level, or in this particular way, because he developed such a distinct style, absolutely nothing could be considered comparable, even with many imitators that claim to be inspired by his work. Additionally, he had a taste for chaos that appeared in many of his films in fascinating ways – Viridiana could be a very simple story about a young woman questioning her identity and dealing with challenges that come about, such as a crisis of faith and her inability to reconcile tradition with her sense of wanting to live a modern life. This is the foundation of the film, but it’s not the story, since Buñuel leaps into the narrative and delivers a striking and very strange social satire that evokes discussions around class, identity and poverty, as well as touching on taboo subjects like incest and incurable diseases, which are not normally factored into the kind of lighthearted comedies that this film is modelling itself after. Buñuel had a very distinct vision, and this film makes sure to emphasize that throughout the narrative, which showcases his love for the perverse and more controversial sides of humanity.

Even beyond the narrative detail and the thematic content that guides this film, Viridiana is formally a very good film – there’s something mystifying about how the director develops these ideas as more than just a solid story, and his keen visual eye and attention to detail was as much a part of the experience as the narrative itself. This is one of his most unexpectedly beautiful films – every scene set in the crumbling mansion or its overgrown grounds is stunning in a way that only Buñuel could achieve. He mastered the art of rendering the hideous and derelict gorgeous, which is all about how he uses space and framing to tell a story. While no one would ever suggest that this film would work without his witty, sardonic dialogue, the fact that this story could be told without words should point out how effective the visual components of this film are, and how they function in the broader story. It takes a lot of skill to take a story that is essentially set in a singular location and render it entirely dynamic and sprawling – a lot of this comes from the fact that we don’t get to see much of this mansion (there aren’t even any establishing shots that capture the entirety of the estate), so it is shrouded in mystery, which is always going to provoke some sense of curiosity in the viewer, since our instinct is to want to explore this sprawling property, especially since the detail in what we see is so striking. None of this is compulsory – the film would have been just as compelling without Buñuel’s efforts to create a visually interesting film, but in its ability to create such a vibrant atmosphere through making this building a character in its own right, it opens up entirely new worlds that we are very eager to explore, which leads to some fascinating and complex ideas that go above and beyond what the film was initially aiming to achieve.

Beyond his boundless imagination and the ability to evoke entire worlds, Buñuel was a tremendous writer, and he usually put in a lot of effort to create films that contained memorable, complex characters. He was not a director who could adapt his style to fit particular actors, and he more often than not required his casts to spend the appropriate amount of time developing their skills to match the overall intentions of his films, which may seem demanding until we realize how deep and complex these narratives were, and how they required extremely strong actors that could handle some of the more challenging material. Viridiana marks the first collaboration between the director and one of his muses, the incredible Silvia Pinal, who plays the titular character. In a lengthy career that has lasted over half a century, this remains her signature role and marked the first in a trilogy of films in which she and Buñuel would venture deep into some very stark subjects as they plumbed the depths of the human condition. The film revolves entirely around Pinal’s performance, which is a poignant and complex demonstration of a resilient woman trying to find her place in a world that doesn’t quite understand her or what she represents. She is joined by Fernando Rey, another icon of Spanish-language cinema, and a frequent Buñuel collaborator as well – and in a relatively small but memorable part, he plays the film’s charismatic villain with such nuance and complexity, developing something very special from a relatively one-dimensional character. The latter half of the film is more ensemble-based, and Buñuel assembles a motley crew of fascinating actors to play the vagabond and miscreants that take over this towering home, which alludes back to the carnivalesque nature of the narrative. Certainly, a film driven more by mood than performances, Buñuel still manages to weave together a compelling and unique story that draws out the very best in his cast and allows them the chance to play these wild, off-the-wall characters without the fear of going too over the top.

Some consider Viridiana to not only be the director’s magnum opus, but it is popularly considered the greatest Spanish film ever made, and while it may be difficult to immediately agree to such a sentiment (since we need to take into account over a century of work by some truly inventive voices), it’s not too offbeat of an idea, especially since it is as much an extraordinarily imaginative burst of the director’s unique and challenging perspective, but also a genuinely thrilling dark comedy that provokes and unsettles many common concepts of the human condition about Spanish society. It is a strange and undeniably peculiar film with a unique viewpoint, one that is entirely the result of a director whose vision was constantly challenging conventions – but yet we can’t help but be drawn into the world in which Viridiana takes place, especially since it is very clear that what Buñuel was aiming to achieve was far deeper and more complex than any of the wacky, off-the-wall traits that people normally tend to reduce his work to be, despite their outright brilliance and tendency to go against the status quo, which is a perfect summation of his entire career and what it represents. Bold and unflinching, as well as outrageously funny and scathing in the most complex way possible, Viridiana is a masterful and engaging film with many fascinating ideas, and a generally strong perspective that keeps us invested and engaged throughout the narrative, managing to be as subversive as it is complex, and proving once again that Buñuel was one of our greatest filmmakers, and the kind of satirist we rarely find operating at such a unique level.