by MATTHEW HAYS

Born in 1932, shortly before the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War, artist Fernando Arrabal's entire life has been shaped by that conflict. It was during the war that Arrabal's father would refuse to join in Franco's military coup. As a result he was thrown in prison and, in '42, he would escape under mysterious circumstances, leaving the young Arrabal without a father.

At that time, Arrabal began to mine his artistic talents, writing short stories based on his own young life. He soon excelled at school, winning numerous scholarships and ultimately studying in Paris and New York, where he also wrote plays and poetry. He has since built up a body of work that is staggering. Driven by his hatred of fascism, Arrabal would work with artists around the world, including Salvador Dali, Miro, Picasso, Laurence Olivier and Mishima. Personifying the term renaissance man, Arrabal has worked in every medium imaginable, painting, sculpting, writing and filmmaking.

It was in '60 that he would first meet with Roland Topor and Alexandro Jodorowsky, and two years later the three would found the famous "Panic Movement," which comes from the Greek God Pan; the Panic Man was a man of total refusal of all danger, someone who would not expose himself to danger and would not die a hero's death.

Arrabal's anger at the Franco government would get him into trouble. In '67, he would return to his native Spain where he signed a dedication on one of his books that was critical of the government. He was thrown into prison as a result, but international reaction was swift and extreme. Allies no less than Samuel Beckett, Eugene Ionesco and Arthur Miller all protested the arrest, and as a result Arrabal was released.

In '70, Arrabal would translate his own novel, Viva la Muerte, to the big screen. Considered one of the greatest works of the Spanish surrealist movement, the film would win worldwide acclaim and also the scorn of various censors. The unbelievably strange narrative has a young boy in a tempestuous Oedipal relationship with his mother, as he tries to figure out what happened to his absent father. The film features some of the most disturbing imagery ever captured, including the bloody killing of an ox, put to death by an axe to the throat. Along with Arrabal's follow-up, I Will Walk Like a Crazy Horse, Muerte has become a cult favourite with midnight audiences.

The Mirror caught up with Arrabal at his Paris home via e-mail.

Mirror: What was the main difficulty that you encountered when adapting your novel to the big screen?

Fernando Arrabal: None. Sadly, the fears and hopes that moved me to make the film can be felt in the world today. The memory of the sudden appearance of intolerance (with its terror and crimes) in the Spain of my youth pushed me to make my first film.

M: The surrealist movement had its leftists, but also others who were more right wing like Salvador Dali. Do you think that surrealism inherently arises from the right or the left?

FA: I spent three almost-utopian years with surrealists such as André Breton, Magritte or Buñuel, and unforgettable moments one-on-one with Dali, away from the noise and clamour of the world. With Topor and Jodorowsky, we quit the surrealist group and founded "Panique." Our passion for science and entropy and our acknowledgement of the confusion and randomness of life allowed us to elude the traps and pitfalls of the period.

The censors' scissors

M: What is the most surprising interpretation of Viva la Muerte that you've come across?

FA: Certainly that of two almost blind people: Jean-Paul Sartre and J.-L. Borges who expressed themselves in the exact same way: "An intensely personal film." Moravia, Duchamp, Mandiargues or Mauriac also expressed "transcendent" opinions as would some of my rather strange friends.

M: Nowadays, having a film censored is like free publicity for a director. In what ways did the censoring of Viva le Muerte affect your career and the film itself?

FA: That's quite a memory: months (almost two years) of anxiety and uncertainty with the censors (and the producers!), scissors always in hand. They had enormous arguments, moral as well as economic, but they never made me bend. Just like 30 years ago, today and tomorrow, the film was and will be screened/presented completely. I think that may be one of reasons why it has become a cult film in various places around the world.

The absent father

M: What and who were your main influences in the writing and making of this film?

FA: The painters Jerome Bosch, Valdes Leal, Bruegel. But, my time in fascist prisons also influenced me. And most prominently, even until today, the mystery of my father's fate, who had been sentenced to death and disappeared without a trace into a Francist prison.

M: Are there any directors working today that you especially respect?

FA: Auteurs like the one from Eraserhead (David Lynch) as well as the one from The Others (Alejandro Amenabar), just like certain anonymous authors/lyricists of videos for singers, or those of two or three fantastic films for kids. But what would have Goya or Leonardo da Vinci or Rimbaud have done with a camera?

M: Some people are saying that the time for truly subversive, alternative and cult films is over. Do you agree?

FA: No. Already, the 21st century shocks and catches us by surprise with its tragedies and wars. But, it's possible that it will surprise one day by meta-discoveries of our brain function and by cosmic and quantum science. How could cinema escape such an explosion? In Paris, I have get-togethers at my humble apartment, where geniuses like Houellebecq, Bruno Kahn or Kundera show me how we may be experiencing a renaissance… just like a birth, with blood, pain, and sometimes fear.

Viva la Muerte screens this weekend and next at the Cinéma du Parc. The new special edition DVDs of Viva la Muerte and I Will Walk Like a Crazy Horse are available at www.machiavelDVD.com

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