In 1925 Jeanne Rucar met in Paris a young Spanish man, aspiring film director, Luis Buñuel. From then on, their lives would be linked forever. A long history of love and total renunciation. Jeanne abandoned everything to follow her husband. In return, Buñuel could not live without her, without the certainty of her always accessible presence. Man of overflowing fantasy, of dreams sewn on celluloid tapes; a man of private life, so private that he made his house his castle and Jeanne his prisoner-lady. The interesting thing about these memories is the contrast between the man who weighs, orders, commands, and the woman who is silent, accepts, submits voluntarily. The contrast between public and private life, between the frivolous and permissive world of cinema and the moral and austere atmosphere of the house. Thanks to a woman like Jeanne, Buñuel was able to be Buñuel.
