I first heard about the ending of Bunuel’s THE ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE on the late lamented TV show Film Buff of the Year (bring it back!). It turned up as a question: what does Crusoe hear as he leaves the island, and why is this strange? the answers being, He hears his dog barking, and The dog had died some years previously. It’s a surrealist’s version of the mysterious incident of the dog in the night-time.
It was some time later that I realized that this incident wasn’t so mysterious, and could be seen as the perfect illustration of Bunuel’s clarity (when it suits him to be clear, he’s absolutely crystalline). If you’ve lived somewhere a long time, and suddenly you leave, you get a pang, an instinctive sense that you’ve forgotten something, that something remains to be done. The dog bark absolutely captures that.
Rewatching the sequence for my class on sound-and-image-separation, it struck me that Crusoe has just made a remark in VO about his memoir proving to the world that he’s not mad. And the expression on Dan O’Herlihy’s face as he hears the sound is striking. He looks quickly away and hastily wipes his nose. It’s a very sharp telegraphing of the thought, “Maybe I AM mad.” He’s purposely performing the role of a man who isn’t hearing a dog bark, in case anyone who’s watching thinks he is. So the moment isn’t as straightforward as I’d been telling myself. It might sit comfortably alongside EL, with its cheerful, playful damning of the antagonist to a lifetime of insanity.
Fiona suggests maybe now that he’s rescued, Robinson is finally able to grieve for his dead dog.
“Or maybe he’s been dead all along?” suggests a student at my seminar.
“True, this could be the first version of Lost,” I admit.