Last year in my high school French class, I watched Un Chien Andalou for the first time. What I remember most is the shocking scene where a razor slices through a woman’s eye. At the time, I saw it mainly as a bizarre product of avant-garde filmmaking. After our class discussion on Monday, however, I decided to rewatch it and look for deeper meaning in the film as a whole. Seeing it again after Holy Motors made me realize that both films use unsettling and absurd imagery not just to shock the audience, but to challenge how we watch and interpret what’s on screen.
The eye scene in Un Chien Andalou feels like a direct attack on the viewer’s sense of sight. It is disturbing but also symbolic, as if the film is forcing us to open our eyes to new ways of seeing. Holy Motors captures that same kind of shock with its random bursts of violence, like when Oscar kills a man who turns out to be himself. These scenes might feel random and unnecessary, but that is what makes them effective. They remind us that cinema can still surprise us and that meaning does not always have to come from logic.
Another parallel that stood out to me is the scene in Un Chien Andalou where a woman is hit by a car. The suspense builds as several cars narrowly miss her before one finally makes contact, and even then, the moment feels completely unprovoked. It reminded me of the quick, jarring deaths in Holy Motors that appear suddenly and are never explained. Both scenes deny viewers any sense of closure or reasoning. Instead, they reveal how unpredictable and empty violence can feel when it is removed from a clear narrative or purpose. Rewatching Un Chien Andalou helped me understand Holy Motors in a new way. Both films go against traditional storytelling, but that confusion is what makes them so captivating. They challenge us to keep watching even when we want to look away or are unsure of what we are supposed to feel.
