Desire is not about possession. It's about the impossibility of ever knowing the object.
Plot Overview
On a train bound for Paris, an aging, distinguished Frenchman named Mathieu (Fernando Rey) suddenly pours a bucket of water on a departing woman. What begins as a shocking act of aggression quickly unfolds into a confessional narrative—Mathieu recounts to his fellow passengers the tangled and torturous tale of his obsession with a young woman named Conchita.
Told in fragments and memories, the film reveals Mathieu’s spiraling infatuation, humiliation, and desire as he becomes entangled in a masochistic game of seduction and denial. Conchita, elusive and unpredictable, continuously withholds intimacy, teasing Mathieu with affection only to retreat again and again, pushing him to the brink of madness.
But Buñuel’s greatest trick lies in the casting—Conchita is played by two different actresses (Carole Bouquet and Ángela Molina), often switching without warning. One moment, she is cool and poised; the next, fiery and emotional. The result is not confusion, but revelation: Conchita is not a person, but an idea. An obsession. An embodiment of male desire's paradoxes.
Characters
Mathieu is portrayed with a weary elegance by Fernando Rey, who anchors the film with a performance that oscillates between sophistication and pathetic desperation. He is the quintessential Buñuel protagonist: bourgeois, self-assured, but ultimately ruled by irrational forces beneath the surface of civility.
Conchita, split between Carole Bouquet and Ángela Molina, becomes an allegorical figure rather than a single identity. Bouquet brings a cold, cerebral detachment, while Molina infuses the role with sensual energy and emotional volatility. Together, they create a composite of the feminine as imagined by male fantasy—a being both desired and feared, submissive and defiant.
The supporting characters—Mathieu’s acquaintances, the social elite, and the ever-present backdrop of terrorism and civil unrest—reflect the broader disintegration of order and logic that frames the personal as political, the erotic as existential.
Direction & Cinematic Style
Luis Buñuel’s final film is also one of his most controlled and conceptually audacious. With minimalist camera movements, precise framing, and deliberately understated editing, he invites the viewer into a world where the surface seems calm but is constantly undermined by absurdity, irony, and psychological instability.
The decision to have two actresses play one role is not a gimmick but a masterstroke. Buñuel offers no narrative explanation for the switch—it is up to the audience to reckon with the idea that identity, especially the identity of "the desired," is unstable and contradictory.
Visual motifs—locks, veils, trains, doors—underscore the theme of obstruction, of barriers both literal and emotional. The film builds tension through repetition: every time Mathieu believes he is close to possessing Conchita, she evades him, turning his desire into a loop with no resolution.
Themes & Interpretation
That Obscure Object of Desire is a devastating exploration of erotic obsession, power dynamics, and the illusions of control. At its heart lies the central paradox of desire: that the moment it is satisfied, it ceases to exist. Mathieu does not love Conchita—he is addicted to the pain of wanting her, of never having her.
The dual casting of Conchita speaks to the impossibility of truly knowing the "other." She is not a full character but a reflection of Mathieu’s contradictions, his confusion between purity and perversity, dominance and submission. She becomes the vessel through which Buñuel critiques not only male desire but also the bourgeois mindset that seeks to own, define, and consume the world.
The film also subtly comments on the political anxieties of the time—bombings, kidnappings, random violence—mirroring the internal chaos of its protagonist. Desire, like terror, is sudden, irrational, and deeply unsettling.
Final Verdict
Luis Buñuel's swan song is not only one of the most enigmatic and formally daring films of the 20th century—it is also one of the most honest about the mysteries of human desire. Refusing to provide closure or comfort, That Obscure Object of Desire leaves viewers unsettled, intrigued, and haunted by its central truth: what we long for may not exist, and if it does, we may never truly see it.
⭐ 9.3/10 – A hypnotic descent into obsession, illusion, and the unreachable heart of desire.