The opening to Luis Bunuel’s Un Chien Andalou is predictably impossible to
watch. An eye is open, observing the viewer, and then a razor blade is sliced
across its surface. Few could watch this without blinking or looking away,
something the director depended on as he “cut” from a human to a cow’s eye. And
yet, as I lay on the operating table, with a mask covering my entire face except
for my exposed right eye, I remember thinking, as I watched the scalpel move
towards me, and then felt it press on and into my eye, that this was one of the
most beautiful sights I’d ever seen. I hoped it wouldn’t be my last.