I haven’t read many books in my life. First, because I can’t find the time and second - because I’m busy re-reading the ones that I’ve already read.

I think this is the third time I read Buñuel’s biography. First time I did it was for my exam in cinema history class and that was a long time ago but I still remember how impressed I was by it. Mostly because I expected to meet a guy who’s simply crazy and provocative but discovered a true human being (my apologies to all the crazy ones).

At the time it seemed like a paradox.

Now when I’m a bit older and hopefully a bit wiser I decided to read it again. Actually there was a choice - I wanted to read a director’s biography and I was able to choose between Milos Forman, Bergman and Buñuel. Forman is too boring for me, I don’t like his movies, and Bergman is too depressive. In a very bad way. Personally, I’ve always found genuine negativity repelling and Bergman’s lack of sense of humour is a huge turn off.

Buñuel is different. He doesn’t take himself too seriously, even in his suffering. That makes him bigger than life and far superior than the other two.

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