Not only are the lives of the bourgeoisie characters in the film pointless and irrelevant, but the film itself is pointless and irrelevant. To have people astounded by the "brilliance" of the film and the "genius" of Bunuel is to me astounding in itself. While someone like Fellini can entrance, Bunuel might have well produced a film based on alcoholic, drug-addicted ne'er-do-wells that said nothing worthwhile or did nothing worthwhile. A disjointed, badly acted, phony presentation of a group of individuals that are worth nothing yet somehow cunning enough (in the film) to elevate themselves to positions of importance. I found myself asking "What is the point of this film?" and the answer kept coming up "There is no point and the whole production is absurd." Contrived and unrelated dream sequences that go nowhere. Actions by the actors that mean nothing and make no sense in any context. Perhaps because the majority of viewers are in the same category as the actors in the film, they can relate to it. I cannot. There is nothing worthwhile to be taken from this film. If one derives intellectual meaning from such as this, I feel sorry for them.
My inner self insisted on adding the following:
A knock came on the door of my subconscious. I opened it, and it was a vacuum cleaner salesman who pushed past me and sat down on my couch.
"Did you have an unhappy childhood?" he asked, and continued without pause: "I did. I used to have a recurring dream where I was walking down a road. Did you eat lunch? It is curious that it is not raining out, is it not?" He then proceeded to begin a one-sided conversation of mechanical engineering from a feminist perspective. Without stopping after he had finished his discourse, he began to relate the mystical aspects of flatulence. Midway through this conversation, he stopped to say "I'm sorry, I have to leave now. I have another appointment. Thank you for your order." And left, leaving the door open.