When wealthy Mathieu sees the younger, beautiful Conchita for the first time, he immediately falls in love. Or is it obsession? And does Conchita — played by two distinct actresses — spurn his advances because she doesn’t want to soil their love, or because she’s merely using him? This was Luis Buñuel’s final film, and there’s substance to be found in the surrealist details: a mouse suddenly caught in a trap, a fly in the protagonist’s drink, a sack inexplicably carried from scene to scene. The entire film is erotically charged over a backdrop of terrorist violence, sometimes feeling like a dark allegory, while at other times like a lighthearted farce. And the back-and-forth tug of the characters leads to a fantastically confusing ending that I wouldn’t dare reveal.