Simon of the Desert packs a startling amount into 45 minutes. Claudio Brook plays Simón, a fifth-century holy man perched on a pillar in the desert, trying to transcend the flesh while life below carries on in all its petty, needy, faintly ridiculous humanity. The miracles barely impress anyone. The clergy are more interested in status than salvation. And Silvia Pinal's Devil keeps popping up to lure him down, each appearance pitched somewhere between theological ambush and the world's most blasphemous sketch show.
It's easy to think of Jodorowsky with all that sand, symbolism, and spiritual extremity, but Buñuel is doing something cooler and slyer. Where Jodorowsky goes full fever dream, Buñuel just tilts the world slightly and lets the absurdity speak for itself.
What makes it more than a simple dig at organised religion is the faint tenderness it shows Simón. He isn't mocked as a fool so much as watched as someone who has given everything to an idea the world couldn't care less about. Minor Buñuel, perhaps, but minor Buñuel still clears most directors with room to spare.