Viva la Muerte

Arrabal's first feature as director generalises out from a series of autobiographical memories, in time-honoured surrealist fashion; personal Oedipal anguish is meshed with strands of social and political criticism, until the two become indistinguishable. Various 'psychedelic' colour effects serve to blur the drama's focus even more. Bourgeois 'outrage' is generated quite mechanically, by showing shit, carcasses, maggots, and so on; when hints of authentic feeling peep through, they turn out to be outrageous only in their sentimentality - as in the fantasy images of Lorca's funeral, thronged with naked street-boys.