Surrealist filmmaker Luis Buñuel presents the worst dinner guests ever competing to see who can overstay their welcome the longest. Actually his characters find themselves trapped in their host’s parlor against their will. Though it’s possible that the only thing containing them is their will, as no visible outside forces seem responsible for their captivity. There are no Saw-style traps or even closed doors in the way. The group simply can not leave the room for unexplained reasons despite their strong desire to flee. Perhaps a higher power is at play, positioning the partygoers like pawns in a deadly chess match.

The well-dressed socialites are left to their own devices after the house staff makes a hasty exit. At first they are lost without their servants but desperation forces them to become resourceful. Tension rises over days of close confinement. Some turn on each other while others try to maintain social order. Civility crumbles as everyone resorts to their baser instincts.

Buñuel takes obvious swipes at the bourgeoisie and religion. In one loaded scene a flock of blindfolded sheep parades through the mansion. The upper-crust characters are interchangeable and not very likable, victims of karma done in by their own extravagance. It’s The Masque of the Red Death where luxury plays the plague. This one-joke story is the blackest of comedies, and although it’s an interesting exercise it doesn’t do a whole lot with the simple premise. The ironic ending left me hungry for more subtext, if not resolution. If anything it encourages me to stick to outdoor BBQs.

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