Pierre Louys's novel The Woman and the Puppet had been filmed before. Marlene Dietrich starred in an adaptation called The Devil Is a Woman in 1935. More importantly to the DVD at hand, Jacques de Baroncelli adapted a silent version of The Woman and the Puppet in 1929. (Excerpts from this latter version are included on this disc as a fascinating reference point. See below.) But it was Luis Buñuel who delivered in 1977 the definitive adaptation of the book in his final film, That Obscure Object of Desire.

Marking the final collaboration between Buñuel and screenwriter Jean-Claude Carrière, That Obscure Object of Desire tells the story of Don Mathieu (Fernando Rey), a wealthy businessman who endures a crippling obsession with a beautiful 18-year-old woman named Conchita. He makes a clumsy first move, she flees, they meet again, she flirts, she flees again, and so goes this film's cat-and-mouse game of erotic frustration that continues through the final shot. Mathieu tells his story to an odd group of travelers on a train after having dumped a bucket of water on Conchita's head. This flashback account gives the film a terrific narrative pulse, as Buñuel punctuates Mathieu's sexual pursuits with his eager storytelling onboard the train. And we also know that—unbeknownst to Mathieu—Conchita has boarded the train, all wet and bothered.

For the role of Conchita, Buñuel used two different actresses. Newcomers to Buñuel might find this decision puzzling and even maddening, but if you're in tune with the director's sense of playful surreality, you'll be entranced by this method of portraying Conchita's two-facedness. I don't mean to imply that one actress represents the character's evil side and the other her good side. In fact, Buñuel uses the two actresses ostensibly at random—although the absolutely stunningly gorgeous and statuesque Carole Bouquet (who would become a Bond girl in For Your Eyes Only) seems to represent Conchita's more innocent and vulnerable persona, whereas the sassy and cute Angela Molina seems to represent Conchita's voluptuous and seductive side. Mathieu doesn't notice the difference and doesn't seem to care. He tries to win Conchita by any means possible, but she rebuffs his every move—only to return to him and tell him he's her only love. Because he never understands her, he'll never be able to have her.

Another Buñuel technique is to pepper his film with random terrorist strikes (both filmed and referenced) across France and Spain. There's an ever-present subtextual threat of bombs, guns, and violence. However, none of that really affects Mathieu, even when he's held up at gunpoint in a park. His mind has no time for such petty concerns: He's wrapped up in an obsession so deep that nothing else in the world matters. Does the last shot of the film imply that the real world has caught up with him at last? You be the judge.

Criterion has delivered a sharp new high-definition transfer of this film, in 1.66:1 anamorphic widescreen. Despite his surreal subject matter, Buñuel works with fairly static compositions and real-world imagery. It all comes across fine—if not spectacularly—in this relatively crisp transfer.

Criterion presents That Obscure Object of Desire in French mono and English dubbed mono. The disc offers new English subtitles. Not much to comment on here: The sound presentation gets the job done.

The DVD contains a video interview with screenwriter Jean-Claude Carrière, who talks about his experiences working with Buñuel, as well as his takes on the casting of two actresses, the incorporation of terrorism as a subplot, working with Fernando Rey, and so on. How great a commentary track with Carrière would have been!

You also get excerpts from the 1929 silent adaptation of The Woman and the Puppet. These clips leave no doubt that Buñuel was heavily influenced by the silent film. Accompanying each excerpt is text from the original novel.

The DVD insert includes a William Rothman essay on Buñuel and an illuminating interview with Buñuel.

There's also a spicy theatrical trailer.

My lingering thoughts about this film swirl around the two women who played Conchita. Buñuel's stroke of casting genius effectively doubles the character's mystery—as well as her erotic appeal. And even though the technique was jarring at first, I now find myself thinking of the two women as one. That Obscure Object of Desire will stay with you, and you'll want to watch it all over again if only for the pleasure of watching the elusive and maddening Conchitas.