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Philosophy and Film / Film and Philosophy Abstracts of parallel session papers (in alphabetical order) Groundhog Day – A film about the good life Dr. Diana Abad, Dortmund University of Technology (Germany) One of the most important questions of moral philosophy, indeed the one with which moral philosophy started, is what makes a life a good life. After more than 2500 years, it is still a controversial issue. Roughly, there are three kinds of answers philosophy has come up with: hedonism, desire satisfaction accounts, and objective list accounts. A marvellous way of approaching this issue is to watch the film "Groundhog Day" which can teach us a lot about what a good life consists in - and what not. Meet Phil who has somehow become trapped in a single day he cannot get out of. Each time he wakes, it is February 2nd, and everybody around him lives through that day in the same way every time. Phil tries various ways of coping with this situation: he does what he wants disregarding the consequences, because for him there aren't any; he tries to seduce a woman, but fails dismally; he finds things to do with his life as it is that are of intrinsic worth. The first of these ways of coping corresponds to a combined hedonistic / desire satisfaction account of the good life, and it clearly shows the drawbacks of such an account. People desire all kinds of things, and all kinds of things bring them pleasure, but getting them does not necessarily result in a good life, because they easily might be the wrong things. Phil finds that out soon enough. Even though he gets what he desires and derives plenty of pleasure out of it at first, this kind of existence rapidly becomes empty and meaningless to him. He despairs and tries to kill himself. We may conceive of Phil's second way of coping as a highly refined version of the desire satisfaction account: He finds an overarching goal and tries to achieve it. Everything he does, like reading French poetry, is subordinated to the goal of seducing a certain woman. The trouble is that this goal, pursued in this way, is unattainable, so Phil is frustrated, and this does not result in a good life either. Finally, Phil realizes that the things he did in order to seduce that woman, the things he merely treated as means to an end, are worth pursuing for their own sake, like reading French poetry. So he learns to do just that and finally, his life is fulfilling. Philosophically speaking, this third way of coping is not readily translatable to an objective list account of the good life, because we would be hard put to explain how a highly specialized item like "read French poetry" could make it on the list. Still, the deficits of the first two ways of coping show that some measure of objectivity is necessary for certain things to be constitutents of a good life. Probably, we can put it best with Harry Frankfurt: Like Phil, we need something objectively worthwhile to care about in order to have a good life. Against film as ‘philosophy’: D.Z. Phillips and Ingmar Bergman John Adams, University of Liverpool (UK) Ingmar Bergman’s films of the sixties have long fascinated philosophers and theologians. The director himself has even been championed as a philosopher of sorts. George E. Lauder, for example, thinks that the ‘questions that Bergman asks are philosophical questions and so his films are a marriage of movies and metaphysics’, while for Irving Singer, as ‘a humanistic philosopher and applied aesthetician, I sought in Bergman, a mode of intellectual probing and penetration that seems to me clearly philosophical’. These philosophers are typical of a certain tendency to view the director as an important philosophical voice in serious cinema. But if Bergman’s work is seen as philosophy, how should we judge him? What kind of philosopher is he? Examining these films as works of philosophy, what is said might be considered rather naïve (what does Bergman actually say about contemporary ‘issues’ within the philosophy of religion, for example?); there is a real danger of underestimating Bergman as a filmmaker, if we pay too much attention to the ‘philosophy’ within his films. He isn’t a philosopher and his films are not works of philosophy. I think that too much has been said in recent years by those who seem to think about the relation between film and philosophy in a narrow, unimaginative way. Philosophers and theologians have had a lot to say about Through a Glass Darkly, Winter Light and The Silence, directed by Bergman in the early sixties. Those familiar with these works will understand why this is so. The areas or issues covered include the existence of God, human communication, love, God’s ‘silence’, and the connection between religious belief and mental illness. In his book, Through a Darkening Glass, the philosopher of religion, D.Z. Phillips, shows that there are real difficulties with what Bergman has to say in these films, difficulties that have been ignored by many, who seem to be distracted by the subject matter, by the very fact that the director concerns himself with issues some would consider fundamental within the philosophy of religion. Phillips picks up on these difficulties, partly at least because of the confusions that arise from the use of the ‘religious’ language within the films. And initially, the vitality of Phillips’ comments appears to exist solely in his criticism of what he sees as the mistakes that Bergman makes, or the narrowness of his understanding of religion. But his philosophical approach not only exposes conceptual confusion, but also encourages us to contemplate the connection between such confusion and what might be considered ‘aesthetic’ weaknesses of the films. The primary importance of Phillips’ comments for the philosophy of film, is that in their uncompromising reflection on what is said within the films, they show us that we should not be seduced by the received notion of ‘seriousness’ that commentators repeatedly and uncritically ascribe to Bergman’s films of this period. In contrasting Phillips’ ‘contemplative’ approach with other approaches, I hope to show that his work, though profoundly controversial, allows us to think about the films in ways that do justice to them as films rather than as works of pseudo-philosophy. Ciné-vision: film and the defense of photographic transparency Dr Inés de Asis Film is often analyzed in terms of photographs –its atomic component. A rather controversial evaluation of photographs can be found in Kendall Walton‘s essay, “Transparent Pictures: On the Nature of Photographic Realism,” where the medium is analyzed in terms of its equivalence to other sight enhancements like mirrors, microscopes, telescopes, etc. There, Walton specifically deals with photographic transparency –that is, that we see through the photograph and onto its object- but one construal of the problem deals in terms of epistemic value. The equation to perception after all, suggests that the photograph is one epistemically valuable mode of access on par with or supplementary to our natural sense faculties, to which we ascribe a certain qualification for apprehending information. In one vein of the epistemic value debate, the question is whether photographs can qualify as a genuine prosthesis–a kind of device that allows or enhances perceptual contact like mirrors, microscropes and telescopes do. These examples are merited with a special kind of information carrying capacity. Since not all perception mediating devices are considered genuine prostheses those that are must carry information in a special way, so we must begin to establish a set of information carrying criteria for genuine prostheses. Walton outlined his criteria for (at least visual) perception: To see is to have a visual experience caused by an object in a manner which is 1) belief independent, 2) similarity preserving and 3) counterfactually dependent on the object of sight. This obtains even if the object-subject relationship is mediated. Since photographs meet these conditions, they are aids to seeing. Cohen and Meskin reject the photograph as a genuine prosthesis because it fails to meet another necessary criterion beyond Walton’s three –egocentric spatial information. This criterion was introduced earlier by Gregory Currie where he proposed that egocentric spatial information is requirement because being able to track one‘s relation to the object of sight is the very function of seeing. Walton dismissed the requirement as too strong since often, even in uncontroversial cases of seeing, we are unable to preform the tracking operation; for example, locating a carnation’s relation to us when reflected in a series of mirrors. The problems with Currie’s doxastic version of this information are avoided by Cohen and Meskin‘s nondoxastic proposal which does not require egocentric spatial information to be tracking-oriented, only carried. The photograph‘s failure to carry information of this kind is what disqualifies it. Thesis: In this essay, I will defend the status of photographs against Cohen and Meskin’s nondoxastic egospatial information requirement by refuting their argument in two ways: I will argue that the photograph cannot be rejected on the basis that it does not in principle meet the egospatial information carrying requirement –doxastic or non- because, 1) this is not a necessary requirement for other egocentric spatial information registering senses and 2) photographs belong to a device type that can carry this information –a type shared namely with film. Participatory imagination and nonfiction films Paloma Atencia-Linares, Universidad Autónoma de Madrid (Spain) A frequent assumption, both in Film Theory and in Philosophical studies about Film, is that cinematic experience involves an imaginary and participatory perceptual activity. That is, that when confronting a film one imagines oneself seeing (from the inside) the events and characters depicted therein. The motivations for postulating this account and the implications drawn by different theorists are diverse. However, we can identify a weak and a strong version of this view. According to the weak version, imaginary perception would be a ‘default norm of film viewing’ (Levinson), but not every cinematic experience would require it. Defenders of the strong version, in contrast, maintain that imagining-seeing is intrinsic to all pictorial (including cinematic) experiences, for it is this very fact that explains their depictive character. K.Walton, one of the most influential supporters of the strong version, has taken the argument a little further. According to his theory, what distinguishes descriptive works from depictive ones is that, while the former may or may not prompt imaginings, all the latter are props in perceptual games of make-believe. The consequence that Walton draws from this is that all depictive works—and therefore, all films—are fictional by definition, for engaging with them necessarily involves imagining that one is seeing such and such (participatory perceptual imagining-PPI). Hence, works such as Errol Morris' A Thin Blue Line (1984), would be fictional because, in viewing it, S would be imagining her seeing, say, the unjustly convicted and sentenced to death, Randall Adams sitting in front of her. Although Walton claims his notion of fiction to be a peculiar one, it is certainly not the case that all films are fictional and not all cinematic experience is experience of fictions. In view of this, one can consider two options: (1) denying the viability of postulating PPI and finding an alternative account for cinematic representation that remains neutral in what concerns the fictional or non-fictional character of the work, or (2) arguing against Walton that endorsing PPI does not necessarily commit one to hold the fictional status of all films. As controversial as PPI is, (1) has proved the most popular option. Less explored, however, is the second one. Following this position, I will argue that, although the association of fantasy, make-believe and fiction with the imagination seems extremely intuitive, there is no reason to believe that imaginative engagement is restricted to this type of activities. The imagination may just as well have a role in other tasks of our every day cognition of the world which do not involve fictional contexts. Gregory Currie and Ian Ravenscroft have claimed, for instance, that the imagination is crucial for our capacity to empathize with others and understand their mental states. In that sense, the imagination would have a recreative facet as well as a creative one. That is, we would not be creating new fictional worlds but would rather be recreating or trying to represent to ourselves other's mental states or situations different from our own. If it is the case that an imaginative activity is not restricted to fictional contexts, then PPI could be acceptable as a theory of cinematic representation without thereby implying the fictionality of every cinematic experience. I will not side, in principle, with either position, but I will lay bare that both of them undermine Walton's theory of fiction. No, Not Yet: woman, abjection and redemption in Children of Men Terryl Bacon, UWE (UK) On the surface, the film’s well-meaning liberalism is attested to by a plethora of laudable neo-humanist signifiers. When we consider that it is not men who bear children, but women, the title of Alfonse Cuaran’s film, The Children of Men, seems to point to a gendered dissonance. Scratch the surface and an unconscious misogynist agenda emerges. As a prominent headline on a public screen in an early scene tells us, “The World Has Collapsed – Only Britain Soldiers On”. And soldier on it does, in a militarised world where women, stripped of their procreative function, seem to have little value. Woman, as Naomi Wolf has pointed out, has historically been made responsible for beauty and emotion in the human race. In this dystopian vision of the future, abjection spreads throughout society and infrastructure, as women are blamed for what is essentially the symbolic impotence of a failed late capitalism. While in the book on which this film is based, decline is caused by the inexplicable drop of male sperm count, in Alfonso Cuaron’s version, Michael Caine, the film’s aging hippy, asks, “The ultimate mystery: why are women infertile?” We have the “soft” and reluctant hero; prone to alcoholism and gentle nihilism, while his ex partner, Julia, portrayed as a ruthless and hard-edged woman, is ultimately killed by a hyper macho man riding a motorcycle. Gender stereotypes pervade, yet there are some pleasures for the feminist and a form of redemption to be found in this film. Filming the body and unravelling stories: Agnès Varda's intimate geographies Dr Delphine Bénézet, King's College, London (UK) In recent years, film scholars have shown an increasing interest in phenomenology and ethics. Two notable examples are Sarah Cooper's Selfless Cinema? Ethics and French Documentary and Martine Beugnet's Cinema and Sensation. Beugnet's text highlights the synchronicity between theory and practice by focusing on an heteroclite group of contemporary films. Cooper uses a corpus including Rouch's Chronique d'un été (1950) and Depardon's 10ème chambre, instants d'audience (2003) to show how “ethics ruptures the being of documentary film” (Cooper, 2006, 12) . Both Cooper and Beugnet make reference to some of Agnès Varda's films. Their analysis of Varda's work diverges from the traditional association with feminism and new wave cinema, and their critical perspectives focus on often neglected aspects of Varda's practice. Because of Varda's distinctive take on filmmaking (she refuses for instance to restrict herself to a single format or style), few critics have tried to look at her work as a whole. A more comprehensive analysis demonstrates the significance of her work on filmmakers of the same generation and on younger ones too. Her work has not only influenced French directors from the new wave, but ripples through the films of directors as different as Julie Bertucelli, Pascale Ferran, and Coline Serreau. Varda describes cinema as “the movement of sensations” (quoted in Smith, 1998, 26-27). Varda's emphasis on the link between embodied experiences and cinema points to the need for alternative interpretations. It is my contention that Varda's images would gain from a critical perspective informed by phenomenology as much as by feminist film theory. Focusing on Mur, Murs and Documenteur (1980-1981) reveals unexplored characteristics of her work, and illustrates how philosophy can provide crucial insights to film studies. These expatriate films take place in California, well away from the meandering streets of Paris most often associated with her work. The portrayal of California that Varda elaborates is alternately playful, self-reflexive and melancholic. Varda's images echo the voices of various Californians, while they also illustrate her protagonist’s feeling of estrangement and alienation. I will show that in this diptych she creates the intimate geographies associated with her better-known work. In these two films, the representation of a kaleidoscopic portrayal of the muralist scene in the 1980s, and of an intimate soliloquy, is consistent with her theoretical understanding of space and bodies. If Varda's work is a significant artistic and feminist intervention, it is not only because her films disrupt the patriarchal logic of a uniform vision, but also because her work can be labelled a cinema of the senses, which interrogates the experiences of embodied subjects and problematizes gendered representations. Varda articulates an original “haptic cinema” (Marks, 2000, 170) which invites us to engage with and question our own experience. This analysis aims to explore how by filming bodies and telling stories, Varda creates a cinema of the senses that takes us on an intellectual and sensory journey of discovery. Film as philosophy: the self-reflective nature of Kurosawa’s Rashomon Anna Bergqvist, University of Reading and Dr Philip Mallaband (UK) There has been recent scholarly work done within the Philosophy of Film on the possibility that films may themselves contribute to the very philosophical debate in which they feature as subject matter. The argument in favour of this possibility has been most forcefully expressed by Stephen Mulhall, who argues that the ‘Alien’ series of films has this kind of self-reflectivity. To illustrate his thesis, Mulhall provides a persuasive account of the way in which this series of films reflects on 'the conditions for the possibility of film' (p. 3). In his ‘Alien Ways of Thinking: Mulhall’s On Film’, Julian Baggini expresses a scepticism with regard to Mulhall’s claim for the series (that it constitutes philosophy), but he does assent to the central thesis: that films can count as pieces of philosophy in themselves. In support of this, Baggini draws on Kurosawa’s Rashomon (1950). Our intention in this paper is to present reasons for thinking that although Baggini’s thoughtful presentation of the philosophical theme running through Rashomon is undoubtedly valuable, it fails to capture just what is particularly interesting about the film qua philosophy. We argue that Rashomon is a self- reflective film in the same way that the ‘Alien’ series is held by Mulhall to be. Baggini represents Rashomon as a reflective work in the sense of being a deep and thoughtful exploration of the way that our moral commitments impact on the way we see the world. We argue that this sense of reflectivity is not the same as the one invoked by Mulhall in his claim for the ‘Alien’ series, and although Rashomon may be thought to be reflective in the way maintained by Baggini, it is also reflective in virtue of being self- reflective as it considers its very own possibility as a film. The film achieves this end through the fact of its narrative being structured around several re-tellings (one of which is three times removed from the happening of the samurai’s death), and thus addresses the relationship between the audience and the events presented by the film, and the role of the audience. We argue that Rashomon makes a case for itself through its own being. It shows us the impossibility of film either taking or presenting a ‘view from nowhere’. But in so doing Rashomon cannot fail to take a stance on this very issue, and so must make a case for itself qua philosophical treatise. Thus the film compels us to reach the verdict that the members of the audience should be thought of as involved participants, as opposed to detached neutral observers. Can film philosophise? Some initial thoughts Shai Biderman, Boston University (USA) Philosophy and film studies converge today on three levels. First, there is a subfield of aesthetics known as "philosophy of film." On this level, philosophical aesthetics examines the possibility of film theory and subjects such theory to philosophical analysis. Second, there is a more symmetrical account of their convergence, indicated by the more neutral designation: "philosophy and film." The subject matter on this level ranges over the mutual interactions between philosophy (as an intellectual process and a reflective discipline) and cinema (as an art form). Last, there is the somewhat presumptuous endeavor, entitled "film as philosophy." The task of this endeavor is to examine the nature of film (and film theory), under the presumption that film, by its own nature and characteristics, is (or, at least, can be) itself a form of actual philosophizing. The idea of "film as philosophy" suggests both that there is a philosophy contained in the film and that this philosophy and the medium of film itself are interdependent. This idea holds that films are themselves a process of philosophizing and, indeed, a valuable way of doing so. I propose to mount a defence of this idea, and argue that films and the cinematic method have a significant impact on the way we understand and address basic traditional philosophical questions. I demonstrate how cinematic philosophizing alters our perception of the attempt to think systematically about fundamental issues of human existence, and render it plausible to regard film as capable of embodying such acts of reflection. Interpreting film-thinking in the act of viewing Jimmy Billingham, University of Sussex (UK) Drawing on Wolfgang Iser's concept of indeterminacy in the literary text, I propose that indeterminate features of film invite the participation of the reader in the production of the text's meaning. I develop Daniel Frampton's idea of a 'filmind', which 'thinks' the whole of the film-world presented to the viewer, by looking at how an inherent ambiguity and fragmentation within this intentional perspective of the filmin leads to indeterminacy. This indeterminacy stimulates the interpretative activity of the viewer in the act of viewing. I oppose this interpretation during the viewing process to the interpretation of (often hidden or 'symptomatic') meaning after the event that much film theory has preoccupied itself with, in doing so undermining David Bordwell's distinction between comprehension and interpretation. I wish to emphasise an hermeneutic element in the understanding of film narrative, which involves the viewer responding to indeterminacy by relating aspects of the narrative – or, to use Iser's term, 'themes' – to an interpretative horizon that the viewer builds from these themes. This interpretative activity is guided by the filmind, to the extent that the viewer's thinking engages with the filmind's in the act of viewing. In a similar fashion to Iser's text and reader, viewer and filmind become engaged in a 'dialogue'. I explore how this dialogue involves the 'completion' of incomplete film-thinking, and how the intentional agency of the filmind can also – exploiting the inherent ambiguity and fragmentation of the filmind – function to mislead the interpretative activity of the viewer – as in 'puzzle' films such Vanilla Sky – and also resist 'definitive' completion, as in Hidden (and other Haneke films) and, to a greater extent, Inland Empire (and other Lynch films). ‘Eat me, drink me, read me’ – Morvern Callar as an Irigarayan Alice Lucy Bolton, Queen Mary, University of London (UK) The writings of French feminist philosopher Luce Irigaray provide an array of visually evocative concepts which can inform and illuminate our understanding of female consciousness on-screen. Despite her stated mistrust of the specular economy, and her analysis of the primacy of the visual as having been manipulated by Western patriarchy, Irigaray’s strategies for the creation and preservation of female subjectivity (within a culture of two equal subjectivities) enable an understanding of the cinematic representation of the female. Irigaray’s highlighting of the objectification of women in patriarchy complements feminist film theory, in particularly Laura Mulvey’s analysis of woman as ‘to be looked at’. The call of feminist film theorists such as Annette Kuhn, Carol Clover and Tania Modleski for a new approach to women in film, both rewriting cinematic conventions and challenging filmmaking methods, with the aim of creating filmic female subjectivities which move away from physicality and objectification, shares Irigaray’s call for different cultural representations of women, as well as different ways of looking at them. Morvern Callar (Lynne Ramsay, 2002) offers a representation of a young woman which is unusual and challenging. The taciturn, blank-faced Morvern may at first sight appear unfathomable: having turned a blind eye to the body of her dead boyfriend which lies on the floor of her flat, she eventually comes to examine the messages he has left for her on the computer. Morvern is entreated to ‘read me’ and ‘be brave’ – instructions in relation to a completed novel he has attached to the email. Morvern deletes his name from the title page, replaces it with her own and sends it off to publishers. She then sets off on a journey into landscapes and experiences which stimulate her sensorially and imaginatively. The instruction to ‘read me’ is reminiscent of the instructions to Carroll’s Alice to ‘eat me’ and ‘drink me’, before she embarks on an adventure which challenges her perceptions of reality and all the conventions of her normal life experience. Irigaray draws upon the notion of Alice stepping through the looking glass into a world where the normal rules of language and hierarchy don’t apply: for Irigaray, the notion is a possible visualisation of a change in culture she considers necessary for female subjectivity to have full expression. This paper will develop the idea of Alice entering an alternative philosophical and phenomenological environment, as utilised by Irigaray, and use it to account for Morvern’s apparently aberrant behaviour. I will therefore demonstrate how Irigaray’s thoughts concerning language, silence and sensory experience can be used in film analysis, and how these can be tools for the creation and preservation of female consciousness on-screen. This in turn will show how philosophy can be drawn upon as a critical tool for studying film, and suggest new directions for filmmakers and spectators. Loss, addiction and 21st century spectacle: Steven Spielberg’s Minority Report Dr Alexia Bowler, Swansea University (UK) In Steven Spielberg’s Minority Report (2002), the tropes of sight, addiction to simulacra/the image and surveillance, infuse the film’s narrative, inviting us to interrogate our relationship with the image, particularly in light of the recent development in digital cultures. In this paper, I will examine the way in which Spielberg’s film thoughtfully engages in philosophical speculation regarding our changing relationship with the image and technology in the 21st century. The paper will propose that Spielberg’s film conceptualises this relationship to the image as a spiralling addiction to spectacle fed by and resulting in a sense of longing and loss and that this can only be countered by a new understanding of the image itself. The image has always been considered powerful, and as Merrin states: ‘as possessing a remarkable hold on [us] and as having the power to assume for us, in that moment, the force of that which represents, to become the reality and erase therein the distinction of original and image’ (Merrin, 2005: 30). Thus my paper will argue that Spielberg’s film exposes the simulacra’s power in shaping and informing our daily lives, in a way that is reminiscent of Baudrillard’s concept of our persistent nostalgia for a past reality in a world of simulacra and hyperreality, and indicative of Debord’s notion of society’s addiction to spectacle. In Baudrillard’s assessment, the distinct categories of the real and the imaginary have switched places through the predominance of simulation and the image, resulting in not only the hyperreal but also a desire to reconnect with the real, which is characterised as a lost object. This paper will argue that, in Minority Report, the fantasy of the recovery of this lost object is contained in Anderton’s desire for the recovery of his missing son (Sean), his estranged wife (Lara) and the ‘reality’ of experience attributed to his past life. Anderton’s nostalgia and sense of loss is also coupled with the notion of the spectacle as addictive. As such, Spielberg’s protagonist is indeed a guilt-ridden drug addict. However, his addiction is revealed to be more than a dependence on illegal drugs, but is characterised as a more serious dependence on visual images, illusory visions and memories of the past that are re-played through new visual technologies. My paper will argue that Anderton’s addiction to visual images of Lara and Sean, reveal a yearning for a past utopia and his repeated viewings of these moments of ‘reality’ feed his desire or longing for previous experiences, keeping him locked in a negative, dependent, spiral of longing and loss. Thus Spielberg’s assessment of our dependence on and cultivation of images, reflects Debord’s assertion of the way in which capitalism’s appropriation of the spectacle is based on a false economy of need and desire, or deprivation and satisfaction. In summary, my paper will suggest that Spielberg skilfully uses these tropes (of addiction, loss and the spectacle) to speculate on and engage with re-thinking our relationship with the visual, the technological and the real in the 21st century. Woody Allen's Crimes and Misdemeanors and alternative conceptions of justice Dr Mikel Burley, Leeds University (UK) This paper contributes to the debate surrounding the normative significance of Woody Allen’s Crimes and Misdemeanors which has raged since the film’s release in 1989. I first identify and characterize two common and ostensibly counter-posed interpretations of the film, which I call the Unjust and the Just view respectively, and then highlight an underlying assumption shared by them both. I show that this assumption is questionable, and thereby make possible an alternative, and in several respects more plausible, interpretation of the film, which I dub the Intrinsic Justice view. The Unjust view holds that Crimes and Misdemeanors conveys the message that crime can lead to happiness and the virtuous can suffer dreadful misfortunes. This interpretation cites, for example, the fact that the central character, Judah Rosenthal, after having paid for his troublesome mistress to be killed by a hitman, evades legal punishment and appears to largely overcome any feelings of remorse, while another character, a rabbi who views life in the light of a strong ethico-religious framework, progressively goes blind. Some commentators have condemned the film as morally pernicious, and others, while toning down this rhetoric of indignation, have nevertheless accepted the film’s message to be that wrongdoing can pay. Proponents of the Just view, meanwhile, argue that, for example, while Judah does indeed appear to have evaded legal sanction, there are signs that he has not overcome the feelings of guilt and remorse that plagued him earlier in the film; these feelings are liable to corrode the degree of intimacy and openness that Judah is able to experience in his familial and personal relationships, and thus to preclude a life of happiness and fulfilment. The common assumption here is that justice involves a connection between action and experiential consequences for the agent: if justice prevails, then the consequences of good actions will be enjoyable and those of bad actions will be unpleasant, whereas if injustice prevails, the consequences will diverge from this pattern. A key question, however, is whether this assumption should be accepted. I place it in question by making reference to an alternative conception of justice proposed by several important historical philosophers, notably Socrates, Boethius, and Kierkegaard. According to them, justice involves a connection between, not action and experience, but action and character – or the state of one’s soul: good actions enrich one’s soul precisely because it is good to be virtuous, whereas bad actions contaminate one’s soul because it is bad to be vicious. I call this the Intrinsic Justice view, since it maintains that, in effect, the reward or punishment appropriate to a morally relevant action is internal to the action itself. I then highlight certain features of Crimes and Misdemeanors that invite the viewer to take seriously a conception of justice comparable to the Intrinsic Justice view, and argue that this view facilitates an interpretation of the film that is at least as plausible as, and more artistically satisfactory than, the other two. Responding to the timeliness of cinematic time: A hermeneutical approach to Francois Ozon’s 5x2 Lee Carruthers, University of Chicago (USA) Although philosophical hermeneutics have not found much application within academic film study, this paper seeks to demonstrate the special value of this perspective for contemporary film-critical practice. Specifically, I argue that hermeneutics affords a nuanced approach to the question of cinematic time, allowing us to formulate a richer account of this phenomenon than is presently available. Where recent studies of this topic— such as the significant analyses offered by Phillip Rosen, Mary Ann Doane and Laura Mulvey— effectively ‘still’ cinematic time by privileging a static model of film spectatorship, this discussion outlines a hermeneutical approach to filmic temporality that emphasizes our dynamic engagement with it as film viewers. To this end, this paper pursues what I call the timeliness of cinematic time— or in other words, the way that time is always at issue for us, in film viewing. Adapting certain insights from Martin Heidegger, Hans-Georg Gadamer and Hans Robert Jauss for film study, timeliness comes to designate a working through of time that occurs as a reciprocal exchange between film and viewer. On one hand, this is to foreground the fluctuating particularity of cinematic time, as we actively interpret it; on the other, it is to consider the way our experience of a film’s temporal rhetorics facilitates textual meaning. As an approach to filmic temporality, timeliness also relates the specificities of film viewing to a wider trajectory of experience that encompasses other films, and other viewings, over time. In this sense, it illuminates the historical dimension of cinematic time, because it shows us how our present experience draws upon the past, yet remains open to the future. As a vivid illustration of this approach, I consider the timeliness of a recent production, François Ozon’s 5x2 (2004, France). Ozon’s film is an exemplary text for these purposes because it deploys reverse chronology; in this respect, the film imbricates issues of filmic temporality and interpretation by its very formal structuring. While narratives of reverse chronology are sometimes thought to mimic the mechanisms of hindsight, revealing the root causes of things with new clarity, I suggest that 5x2 is motivated otherwise than this: the film finally evokes an experience of temporality that is deepened and complexified, rather than resolved. In this sense, Ozon’s film clearly rewards a consideration of timeliness because our experience of its ellipses, silences, and opacities are essential to its project. And significantly, 5x2 reminds us that cinematic time is not fully predictable, or exhausted by any static picture of it; rather, it is a question that calls for renewed engagement. Voices from nowhere: the non-vocalic and acousmatic voice(over) of Chris Marker Jenny Chamarette, University of Cambridge (UK) This paper is part of a combined endeavour with Davina Quinlivan to investigate the phenomenological and ontological significance of sound, and in particular, embodied sound, in film. This particular methodological approach to film philosophy involves close attention to the specificities of the film object – in other words, not simply the films themselves, but also their medium, and the cultural discourses that surround the films. The focus here on Avant-garde directors inevitably invokes notions of the auteur; nontheless both panel papers represent a revisionist approach to auteurism, recognising the specificity of the filmmaker, but also the significance of encounters with the film. As such both papers put forward a phenomenological account of film, and in particular the embodied film sounds that intimate a problematic relationship between the singularity of individual bodies and the communality of bodily experience. The ‘non-fiction’ films of Chris Marker, to employ Nora Alter’s term, have been noted for their genre-defying codes of narration and representation. Marker’s auteurist leanings are irrefutable, and the manipulation of the sound and image tracks of his films, in particular the didactic guidance of voiceover, confirm this viewpoint. This is of course in spite of Marker’s unwillingness to enter the public eye, to be ‘present’ to the spectator of his films in the form of his own face, body and voice. His consistent approach to absenting his embodied self from his films, and from discourses on his films, has been criticised by the musicologist and sound theorist Michel Chion, who argues that, by virtue of the voiceover’s overemphasis in Marker’s films, one is left with the assumption that “otherwise there exists some neutral way of speaking”. My paper examines what is at stake in the ‘non-neutral’ speech of the voiceover in Marker’s films; a voiceover that is never represented by Marker’s own embodied voice, but which nonetheless persistently narrativises both sound tracks and image tracks across Marker’s oeuvre. Marker’s intentional play on presence, and his emphasis on the indexicality or on the relational potentional of the rhythmic image, leads one to think in terms of a delineation between Marker’s authorative, textual ‘voice’ in his films’ content, and the absented embodied voice in his films’ form. The ‘vocalic body’ of the voice-over, as Steven Connor would put it, is desituated. Marker’s words are not only uttered, even ventriloquised through an other, but this other is also rarely visually represented. The guiding logic of what Chion would call textual speech is, in Marker’s work, insistently acousmatic and disembodied – sometimes even silent. Thus in fact Marker’s acousmatic voiceovers acquire something of a sacral or authoritative status, not in spite of, but because of, Marker’s non- vocalic body. This paper will engage with the two notions of the non-vocalic and the acousmatic to examine what kinds of non-neutral ‘presence’ or traced embodiments of subjectivity are brought into being between Marker’s ‘voice’ and the voiceover of his films, with specific reference to the ciné-essais (filmic essays) Sans Soleil (Sunless) and Chats perchés (untranslated). Screening matters: Beholding film’s base (Panel) Dr Nick Chare (University of Reading), Peter Kilroy (Leeds), Marcel Swiboda (University of Bolton) and Dr Liz Watkins (University of Bristol) (UK) Celluloid is material. The projected images that are brought to life by light at a cinema appear as evanescent, immaterial other worlds yet they are often grounded, however, in acetate or nitrate bases. The strips of film upon which images are initially exposed, where they are originally inscribed by light, possess a materiality which is usually suppressed within the rather than exploited by filmmakers. This materiality, which is integral to both the screened image and sound resolution of the film, stubbornly refuses to be voided from the cinematic spectacle. Its presence and pertinence to spectatorship has tended to be concealed by modes of interpretation which focus instead on the aesthetics of cinema and on narrative form as displaced from the modes and materials that are integral to its formation. This panel explores varied ways in which the material substrate of film as a visual and sonorous form can emerge, what potential meanings it holds, and why it requires greater acknowledgment. The papers adopt a variety of approaches, drawing on recent work in anthropology, art history, film studies, philosophy and psychoanalysis, in order to grasp the affect or significance that these phenomena that trouble the cinematic image possess. The papers explore theories surrounding carnality, colour, contingency, deterioration, embodiment and temporality at the level of the film as material and of the cinematic as illusion through engagements with celluloid as medium, index and text. The panel consists of four speakers: Dr Nick Chare (University of Reading): Close encounters of the material kind Michel Chion describes ‘visual microrhythms,’ as filmic events such as ‘curls of smoke, rain, snowflakes, undulations on the rippled surface of a lake, dunes, and so forth – even the swarming movement of the photographic grain itself, when visible’. This paper will examine the various microrhythms which occur in the film Decasia. Drawing upon psychoanalytic theory it will seek to address the relationship between these visual phenomena, and their acoustic similar, and filmic materiality. The paper will also address themes of anamnesis and amnesia. Peter Kilroy (Leeds): “The Coming of the Light”: transparency, opacity and A.C. Haddon’s cinematic surfaces Cinematic indexicality has always offered the lure of what Didi-Huberman refers to as the ‘fantasy of referentiality’, a modality of light-inflected ‘touch’. However, such a lure also threatens to render the material base of the cinematic inscription a deceptively transparent one, as one becomes seduced by the ‘other side’ of the screen. Nevertheless, the cinematic index also bears within itself a trace of its own material conditions of possibility. Such an expanded reading renders the material base of the cinematic inscription a resolutely opaque one, an inscribed surface composed of and by the action of light, dust, scratches and temporal decay. This paper will address the complex interplay of transparency and opacity through an examination of the fin-de-siècle film fragments of Alfred Court Haddon (zoologist and ethnographer). Haddon’s cinematic surfaces stubbornly refuse to be occluded and one is forced to weave between them and their ‘beyond’. Marcel Swiboda (University of Bolton): Celluloid soundings: the materiality of cinematic audition’ The 'materiality' of sound remains a substantially vexed question for the theoretical arts and humanities. Questions of speech, dialogue or voice - appeals to the materiality of sound, without recourse to the formations of signification or sense - are often seen as examples of a 'residual' desire for self-presence in the language of Jacques Derrida. 'Neo-materialist' invocations of sonority, however, of the kind levelled by thinkers such as Deleuze, which question of what constitutes the materiality of sound in terms of immanent, 'self-organising' processes too often remain 'incorporeal'. The proposed paper will explore the question of sonority, its 'material' as well as semiotic inscriptions in relation to the medium of cinema. Reprising the materiality of acousmatic sound in film as developed in the work of Michel Chion, this paper will take a philosophical rather than film theoretical approach to the question of cinematic sound's materiality - a subject that the burgeoning discourse on filmic materialism has yet to substantially address. Dr Liz Watkins (University of Bristol): Expressive absence, temporality and memory: Don’t Look Now The historicity of the film operates between the stillness of the image, as an instant captured, and the distancing of it through the veiling of the cinematic illusion of movement (Jameson, 1995; Doane, 2007). Within this discourse the residual marks of deterioration (scratches, detritus) form a register of pressure, heat and touch on the film material. This register traces a temporality specific to that film. A comparative analysis of Don’t Look Now (1973) with a subsequent digital restoration indicates the specificity of object, medium and text. This analysis focuses on a sequence which registered an image and instance of intense light, marking the camera’s perspective within the filmed space. The dissolve of this image into light also foregrounds a narrative of memory susceptible to the frailties of subjectivity and desire. Film fades; colour balances shift and are re-written through its various manifestations; this sequence differs in the digital restoration and can be re-read through the instability of the ‘film object’. This paper addresses silence (Merleau-Ponty) and fantasy as ‘figments’ of the object (Peirce) to theorise the resonance of image and material in terms of an ‘expressive absence’ within the temporalities and translations of film medium and narrative. Two Kinds of Future in Chen Kaige’s Wuji (The Promise) Dr Sinkwan Cheng, CUNY (USA) Contrary to the prevalent modern Western view that time is a framework in which things occur, Wuji depicts “real time” as an active way of being rather than a passive way of becoming. Time is not what humans passively suffer. Rather, the very nature of human being is engendering time. Wuji contrasts a false future to a true future. “Fate,” which seems to reign supreme for a large part of the movie, traps humanity within a false future that in reality is a mere unfolding of a past script. With Fate asserting the upper hand, the unfolding of time equals the unfolding of Fate. In order to have a true future, the self must struggle against passively becoming what Fate has prescribed. In Wuji, this defiance takes the form of human struggle to reverse time (Fate) so that existence can begin anew as the initiator rather than the initiated of time. That such aspiration is no mere foolhardiness is supported by the fact that human beings in Wuji were never born to be slaves of Fate. Rather, they become slaves through their own action, as in Qingcheng and Guilang’s respective bargain with Mencheng and Wuhuan, both reminiscent of Faust’s deal with Mephistopheles. The fatalistic claim “I can’t act otherwise” would only strengthen the chain of bondage. Only by admitting one’s responsibility as an agent of one’s own enslavement can one dislodge the Fate which one has formerly incurred on oneself. Qingcheng and Guilang’s transformations provide telling examples. "Cinema di poesia" viewed in a cinema theatre as the site for "the Anwesen" of being Dr Wim Christiaens, University of Gent (Belgium) Heidegger distinguished the logos as logico-mathematical reason which objectifies the world into a world-view, from the echo's or remnants of an original pre-socratic logos, which was much more integrative (a "Sammeln" or gathering with respect to Being in the service of the "Anwesen" of Being). Heidegger believed that during the age of modernity this older form of thought found a hostel in the poetry of certain philosophical poets (Hölderin, Rilke, ...). The influential French philosopher Alain Badiou claims that this "age of poetry" (l'âge des poètes) has come to an end with the work of Paul Celan. We want to argue that a certain kind of cinema plays the role of poetry, what Pasolini called "cinema di poesia". In this presentation we will show why cinema can take over this role, i.e., what characteristics of the medium make it prone to receive the logos in the sense of gathering. It will follow that film viewing in the cinema theatre, which since the advent of film has been compared to being chained in Plato's cave, is a necessary condition for "cinema di poesia" to be the site for the "Anwesen" of Being. The ethical dimension with Emmanuel Levinas and Jacques Derrida: reflections on Krzysztof Kieslowski’s Decalogue Myung-hye Chun, University of Bristol (UK) My particular interest in Krzysztof Kieslowski’s The Decalogue (1988) lies in his ingenious filmic conception and dramatisation of questions of ethics and religion. Kieslowski’s cinematic meditation on the founding statement of Western ethics and legislation merits close analysis. His interest is in seeing how the ten abstract maxims of the Decalogue will be linked with specific situations: stories are correlated with them entirely arbitrarily. Each maxim becomes a talking-point as the status of a pretext. Kieslowski’s serial aesthetic seeks to think about ethics under an often bewildering variety of aspects in our day-to-day life. The questions are posed in Decalogue 1 by the boy Pawel raised by an atheistic father and a pious aunt: What is death? What’s left? Who is God? Does he exist? They are the questions of a child and those of a philosopher posed especially within ethics. As to Kieslowski’s ethical themes and issues to be discussed, the writings of the ethical philosopher Emmanuel Levinas and Jacques Derrida will be drawn in depth where possible. I will endeavour to blend their philosophical works of ethics with the discussion of Decalogue, focusing on Section 1, 2, and 8. Particular attention will be paid to the interconnections of ethics and mystery. Kieslowski’s emphasis on the importance of the intersection of the ethical and the mysterious augments conceptual gaps in the narrative that can recall the enigmatic storytelling of the Old Testament. Representation of the image of the young man will be investigated in order to analyse the possibilities and conditions of the Other’s appearance in our lives, and to formulate the ethical significance of the respectful, rewarding encounter with it. I will also question the notion of the incarnation, of God-figure made human, visible and tangible, as an enigma, something opaque to the understanding. Levinas’s ethics revolve around the possibility that I might encounter something which is radically other than myself. For Levinas, as for Derrida after him, we are abandoned by an absent God to infinite responsibility to the other person. God appears only in our ethical actions towards others who are in fact the Strangers. Such a situation invests me with genuine freedom and gives my freedom meaning because I am confronted with real choices between responsibility and obligation towards Unknown, or hatred and violent repudiation. In The Decalogue, all the characters, linked by a Warsaw apartment complex, enact dramas of choice. For Derrida, from the moment God waited to see what Adam would name the animals, to see the power of man in action, humans have always had the choice of belief, of good and ill, of life and death, of justice and murder. It is through their dilemmas of choices that the characters can experience the interminable oscillation between abandoning and relenting, between rebuking God and taking responsibility, and discover the ethical dimension. The morality of horror movies Dr David Coady, University of Tasmamia (Australia) Up until now philosophical discussion of movie genres has been largely confined to aesthetic issues. The principal exception to this rule is pornography, the moral status of which is the subject of an ongoing philosophical debate which closely tracks and overlaps with a public debate about the same issue. But despite the existence of a similar public debate about the morality of horror films, the philosophical interest in the topic has been very limited. This paper goes some way toward remedying this situation. One of the few articles to explicitly address the issue is Gianluca Di Muzio’s “The Immorality of Horror Films”, which appeared in the International Journal of Applied Philosophy, 2006 (20:2) pp. 277-94. Di Muzio argues that it is immoral to produce, distribute or view horror films (or at least an important particularly violent sub-class of them) on the grounds that 1) “living the moral life requires being disposed to react compassionately to the sight of human victimization”, and 2) “the most violent horror films either overwhelm the spectator or promote a detachment from violence that may interfere with the development and maintenance of the correct reactive attitudes to human victimization.” I argue against 1) that Di Muzio has too narrow a conception of the moral life and a correspondingly exaggerated conception of the centrality of compassion in all forms of that life. More importantly, however, I argue that Di Muzio goes wrong by emphasizing “the sight” of human victimization as the correct object of moral response. It is not the mere visual representation of human victimization that should provoke a moral response, but the reality of it (part of that reaction should be compassion, but also equally importantly a sense of indignation and injustice). Implicit in Di Muzio’s argument for 2) is the claim that at some level the viewer cannot distinguish extremely vivid representation of violence from the real thing. This means that he is presupposing two things, first that witnessing actual human victimization tends to have a morally corrosive effect, and second that witnessing vivid fictional representations of the same thing will have a similar effect, unless the representation of the victimization is also a representation of it as being immoral. Both steps of this argument are extremely dubious. Although seeing human victimization may make some people less compassionate and more indifferent to injustice, it will have the opposite effect on others. There seems to be no evidence, for example, that the soldiers who liberated Auschwitz tended to be morally harmed by the experience (though many of them were psychologically harmed by it). The second step of Di Muzio’s argument in effect presupposes that the viewer is at some level incapable of distinguishing fiction from reality. I will argue that this mistakenly assumes an infantile conception of the viewer. The last part of this argument will require some engagement with the aesthetics of horror films, in particular it requires a discussion of Noel Carroll’s ‘paradox of horror’, and the critical literature that it has produced. Why are people attracted to horror films when fear is an unpleasant emotion? I will develop an account of the fear involved which does not entail that the viewer believes (even sub-consciously) that the events he or she is watching are real. Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better: Non-Cognitive Affective Responses to Film and Literature Amy Coplan, California State University, Fullerton (USA) and Derek Matravers, Open University (UK) Recent Philosophy of Mind has argued that the standard claim that emotions involve cognitions ignores a phenomenon in which states of the world act on us directly without mediation of our higher cognitive functions. For example, our autonomic nervous systems can detect (for example) danger that primes us for certain actions (fight or flight) without involving the cortex. The proposition to be considered is whether film is a particularly powerful medium for raising non-cognitive affect. Amy Coplan will argue that features of the film medium and particular cinematic techniques reliably elicit non-cognitive affects and intensify emotional states through non-cognitive mechanisms. Among these techniques are certain types of camera movement, editing styles, lighting design, and sound design. Filmmakers’ formal choices operate in variety of ways: through the arousal of emotional contagion, the engendering of automatic reflexive responses such as startle, and the generation of mood states in the audience. After analyzing and explaining how these work, Coplan will go on to argue that non-cognitive affects influence thought and attention and, in some cases, encourage the acceptance of certain types of value. In this respect, they make cinematic style philosophically relevant. Based on these arguments, Coplan concludes that film directly influences affective states without the mediation of cognition in a way that is not possible for literature. In his paper, Derek Matravers will attempt to mitigate this claim and distinguish two ways in which literature can act on its readers. First, by causing them to imagine propositions that form the cognitive components of certain (quasi) emotional states: my imagining the death of little Nell is a component of my sadness at here death. In this respect, literature is not capable of non-cognitive affect. However, there are two further ways in which literature can engender affect: by describing situations in which the affect is itself non-cognitive (psychic pain), or directly through the use of formal devices such as metre. Examples will given in which the techniques used in raising non-cognitive affect in literature are compared to the same episodes in ‘films of the book’. Scientific classification and film studies Dr Gerry Coubro and Dr Andrew Lord, Sheffield Hallam University (UK) Film is not exempt from scientific methods. A systematic means of film taxonomy, translated from the life-sciences, may provide explanatory and predictive value in understanding the characteristics, interrelationships, and existence of film. The discipline of Film Studies’ has developed to place emphasis on hermeneutics rather than empirical rigour. The typological terms employed, such as genre labels, are often sufficient as loose thumbnail sketches. But where ideas are “lazily lumped into categories” and neologism is rife then confusion is likely. Moreover, the explanatory power and scholarly benefits of a rigorous typology is lost. An interdisciplinary attitude would break the estrangement between the humanities and sciences that serves to inhibit understanding: bridging concepts may facilitate consilience – the “jumping together” of knowledge. Meta-methodologies may then allow film studies to adopt practical ‘middle-level’ research approaches. A linguistic curiosity may provide such a methodological bridge. The cultural theorist’s ‘genre’ shares its Latin root with the biologist’s ‘genera’ (ie genus); both indicate a typology of their objects of study. Each culture and language labels their environment’s plants and animals to identify foods or hazards. Confusing homonymy may arise between vernacular terms, meaning they are insufficient for life science, which is premised on a coherent and consistent classification of biodiversity. Linnaeus originated a scientifically rigorous system that provides a divergent containment hierarchy of taxonomic ranks, and rules for positioning species on this “tree of life”. Each Latin name (binomial nomenclature) unambiguously identifies one species thereby providing academic clarity in the field and literature. A “moggy” would be termed Felis catus. (a carnivorous mammal etc.) Of far greater importance though, systematics was foundational to the modern synthesis of natural selection and genetics, which demystified the mechanisms by which life originates. Although advanced by biology, taxonomic principles are discipline independent. Translations of sophisticated techniques have already been tested: cladistics to manufacturing, and phenetics to management theory. In everyday conversation about film, the notion of Genre is sufficient. Such labels are the equivalent vernacular terms, and for academic purposes carry similar disadvantages. Equating genre with genera alludes to greater clarity. However, a more concrete organising principal for film may allow the testing of research methods that have been established in other disciplines. This would expand investigation for film. Initially, testing a literal translation of biological methods would reveal disanalogies, but to speculate: Rules would determine each film’s taxonomic position according to attributes. Specific nomenclature (“dog” Latin perhaps) might counterpart (rather than replace) a film’s common genre label. For example classifying Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare (1991):- Genus (Genre): Horror; Specie (Franchise): Nightmare on Elm Street. Higher or intermittent taxonomic ranks (Subgenus (sub-genre): Slasher) may be proposed, forming a tree of movie types (perhaps with film at the rank of phylum). Goulde (1990) argues that taxonomy goes beyond just glorified filing to explore fundamental causes of relationships. Taxonomic positioning of films would enable inferences about their characteristics to be made and tested. If translation was plausible (it might not be), then this explanatory framework may assist comprehension of films ontology not conferred by the present schema. The Duck and the Philosopher: Goings on between The Ister and the film theory of Bernard Stiegler Patrick Crogan, UWE (UK) The Ister (Ross and Barison, 2003)—part documentary, travelogue and philosophical meditation supplementing Heidegger’s meditation on Holderlin’s poem about the Danube— opens and closes with sequences of a duck waddling along the bank of the river. The intervening film, all 3 hours of it, is in effect a large insert edit between these two sequences, or rather, this single sequence. Seen in this way, and given the significant involvement in and engagement with Bernard Stiegler’s thinking of technology that The Ister evinces (interviews with Stiegler, among others, take up much of the time of this insert), the film invites consideration in terms of his theorisation of cinema as key representational technology of the Twentieth century. His published work on cinema postdates the film but it nonetheless represents an intriguing anticipation of and in some ways response to his both theoretical and polemical approach to cinema, one which incorporates a more or less explicit critique of major theorisations of film from the semiotic and formalistic to the Deleuzian. This paper will outline and examine some major tenets of Stiegler’s account of cinema by trying to time the momentary duck’s walk that is the extended duration of The Ister. Memento and the murdering subject: memory, identity and integrity Dr Damian Cox, Bond University (Australia) In Memento (2000), Leonard Shelby commits an act of murder by writing himself a note. (Or rather two notes: “Don’t believe his lies” (on a photograph of Teddy Gammell) and “TATTOO: FACT 6, CAR LICENSE SG13 7IU”) Shelby’s anterograde amnesia (an incapacity to construct new memories), and his characteristic ways of handling it, allows him to manipulate his future self as if he were a weapon. The Shelby who sets up the murder is motivated by a desire to hide the truth. The Shelby who eventually pulls the trigger is after revenge for the murder of his wife. Is Shelby guilty of revenge killing or cold-blooded murder? Memento generates an interesting problem in the metaphysics of personal identity. It is a problem for psychological-continuity theories which posit continuity of consciousness, linked by authentic episodic memory, as the sole criterion of personal identity. According to this kind of theory, Leonard Shelby could not have had a unique identity since the time of his accident. The person who kills in revenge is not the person who had previously planned a cold-blooded murder. He is a numerically distinct individual. And yet the film uses a variety of devices to encourage the audience to think otherwise. Here is a man who has a more or less coherent style of life, a plan, a purpose, a collection of mementos—including an inscribed body—that aid him in this purpose, as well as a (remote and often non-veridical) background of episodic memory. All this seems to function as a basis for ascription of numerical identity and so the film sets up a compelling counterexample to psychological- continuity theory. My task in this paper is to assess this challenge. I do this, in part, by examining the perspectival structure of the film. The film appears to present us with a rigorously first- person narrative; an interpretation re-enforced by the ubiquity of first-person narration in the film. In fact, however, the film fails to represent a first-person perspective. Because one stream of the narrative is presented in back-to-front order, the audience shares some features of Shelby’s experience of himself. (He does not know why he is in a motel room, cradling a bottle of whiskey. We do not know why he is there either.) And yet there are crucial differences between Shelby’s perspective on events and the audience’s perspective. We confront the phenomenon of Shelby like a Cassandra: impotently surveying Shelby’s future as we encounter his present. We piece together Shelby’s story in a way he could not do. I argue that the Memento challenge does not force us to abandon psychological-continuity accounts of personal identity, but to modify them. The identity displayed in Memento is a matter of a particular kind of psychological connectedness, not strict continuity. Shelby’s identity is not constituted by his mementos or his plans. It is constituted by his memories in a non-standard way. The condition Shelby lacks is not identity over time, but integrity. On Icarus’ Wings: The fall of human bodies in cinema as an empathetic representational figure Adriano D’Aloia, Catholic University of Milan (Italy) Among the unnumbered representational figures we can observe to study the emotional- cognitive relationship between the spectator and its world, there is a particularly interesting one for its philosophical significance: the fall. More precisely, the accidental “oriented” (by virtue of the gravitational force) movement of human bodies in the empty space. In general terms, a human body falling in the empty space triggers a series of historical-imaginative cross-references and a composite set of concepts related to its figurative meanings and its philosophical implications (emptiness as negation of presence, privation, Nihil, loss of perceptual and cognitive references, decline, downfall, human “frailty” and transience, etc.). Along the history of cinema, the falling body is a precise and recurrent figure, as varied as its aesthetical and technical actual representations and typologies (suicides, homicides, accidents and their intentional versions: super heroes contests, jumps, sports performances…) might be. After 9/11, this figure has taken up a more complex meaning. Let’s think of the shocking and pitiable images of bodies jumping off the Twin Towers. As much as or possibly more than other media, cinema too has elaborated that gesture in a controversial and self-censorial way, banishing it in the realm of the unrepresentable. This paper will move from the analysis of the 11’09’’01 episode directed by A.G. Iñarritu, where the completely black screen is dispelled by short flashes showing bodies falling down the Wtc. The unrepresentable is represented only by fragments and interferences that break into the perceptual emptiness. If we take a closer look at it, we notice that the fall is a controversial figure in the whole history of cinema: we see the moment before and the moment after it, but the very “fall” is often kept “off”. Some exceptions are the splastick comedies (pain involving no real consequences) and, in the last decade, movies (and tv series) with protagonists who can fly, from Spider Man to Heroes (the overcoming and the negation of human limits, where the fall is just the consequence of failed attempts at flying). My paper will single out some exemplary cases. Seeing a body moving (something controllable but indisputable) involves the spectator’s body, because the perceptual orientation, the proprioception/exteroception system and the apperception function are subverted. These twistings give rise to a peculiar relationship between the spectators and the world. In a certain sense, spectators feel they are “falling with” the represented body or even “with their own body”. We could base this relationship on Empathy, a very ambiguous and misunderstood concept in aesthetic, psychology and philosophy, which has been recovered in phenomenology and is currently the central target of neurocognitive researches. Spectators feel the fall “in their own skin” thanks to the activity of the mirror neurons, which allow the setting up of a specular relationship between the neural activity governing the observed body’s movements and the observer’s neural activity. “Feeling it in one’s own skin” means above all “feeling it in one’s own mind”. In order to speak of an “empathetic relationship”, however, the perceptive, emotional and cognitive experiences and the neural specularity must be related to the personal memories of one’s own background. Through the analysis of some movies’ sequences (Vertigo, Wings of Desire, Magnolia and others) my paper will test the hypothesis that the mediated experience of some representational figures (the fall as dizziness, the wild race into the empty space) is intimately bound to the human experience of the empathetic relationship between the Self and the Other (frailty, loss and death). Megarealism and the politics of ThereCam: from HereNow to NowHere and back again... Govinda Dickman, UWE (UK) This paper is a response to Alfonso Cuarón's The Possibility of Hope (2006, Sony Pictures), Cuarón's documentary about, and critical analysis of, his own film - Children of Men (2006, Sony Pictures). I will query the ontological validity of the hypothetical entity which some have called the Subject-of-History, who is the subtextual centrifuge of both the auteurist and the psychoanalytic approaches to “decoding” cinema, exemplified by Cuarón's documentary. My method is to engage in the futile attempt to literally locate this Subject in Time and Space by triangulating backwards from its gaze upon the objects, spaces and events within the film. That is, to identify the precise entity implied by the index “The Subject of History”, so that I may ask them what the film actually means. Despite the fact that Cuarón himself has identified his audience, this quest is radically flawed, and not merely because “The Subject-of-History” is a mythic entity, an index that refers, not to a particular individual, but to a sort of collective entity composed of similar individuals who are all supposed to subscribe to the Subject-Object dialectics of History, the ideological and corporeal schemata of the performative HereNow. By reference to Cuarón's own account of the aesthetic, linguistic and representational strategies deployed within Children of Men, this paper will demonstrate that, while the post- structuralist critique of the Subject-of-History is essentially correct – in that there really can be no such thing as a universally applicable index, no truth that is true for all - it does not necessarily follow that the Subject-of-History does not exist, as many theorists have gone on to assert. The resolution is found in the realisation that reality is not heterogeneous, as has become the doctrinal ontological basis of postmodern thought, but hologrammatic and holographic. The heterogeneous plurality of subjective space-times that is a paradigmatic convention of post-structuralist analysis, allows for plurality of experience but retains the Subject-Object dualism that creates the whole problem it arose to address in the first place, resulting in irresolvable relativism: The death of knowledge, as well as the death of the Author and History. By contrast, the hologrammatic paradigm provides a way to retain what is positive in both homogeneity and heterogeneity; within holographic space-time, a multiplicity of spaces and times may arise, but always and only in the context of everything else. Holograms contain their whole in every part, meaning even that which is utterly invisible from a given perspective is nonetheless fundamental to the existence of what can be seen as what it is seen as, an ontological observation that reinstates to view the radical interconnectedness of being that is often lost in the hopeless relativism of much postmodern thought. Bach and Tarkovsky James Doyle, University of Bristol (UK) Andrei Tarkovsky (1932-86) was one of the greatest film directors of the second half of the twentieth century. He made much use of the music of J S Bach in his films. A few examples: chorale preludes from the Orgelbuechlein play over the opening credits of Mirror and Solaris; the prelude recurs several times in the course of the latter, and the opening chorus and recitative from the St John Passion mark critical points in the former; a character in Stalker whistles the theme from a violin concerto. It is clear from his own writings (Sculpting in Time) that Tarkovsky was deeply preoccupied with philosophical and spiritual questions, with their treatment in the history of western culture (especially music and painting), and especially as they are framed within traditional Christianity. Bach is of course the most spiritual and Christian of composers, and it is in this sense no accident that his music plays a crucial role in the films. These facts are liable to seem puzzling to people (like myself) who are used to thinking of philosophy in terms of explicit discursive argument. A film or a piece of (instrumental) music does not typically assert any propositional content at all; so what could it mean to talk of philosophical themes or preoccupations in such works of art? If a film or a piece of music is to be genuinely (somehow) ‘philosophical’, does this not debase art to the level of something purely didactic or propagandistic? I propose to explore these questions in the case of the films of Tarkovsky, in part by examining the use he makes of the sacred music of Bach. In my professional work, on the early dialogues of Plato, I have often appealed to the distinction between saying and showing as different ways of conveying different sorts of content. I believe that the same distinction may play an important explanatory role in this context (Tarkovsky himself effectively appeals to it throughout Sculpting in Time). The basic idea is that shown (non-propositional) content, of the sort Tarkovsky presents us with in his films, may be inexplicit and open to interpretation in a way that makes possible the avoidance of this fatal didactic element. My hope is that an examination of some of the relevant works of Bach – especially as these are recontextualised in Tarkovsky’s films – may help us to see how this is possible. Further, I try to show how this ‘shown’ mode of conveying content is a particularly effective technique by which Tarkovsky explores the specifically philosophical and spiritual themes that characterise his work. Borgesian Philosophy in Contemporary Films: From «Funes el memorioso» to The Final Cut Dr Carolina Ferrer, Université du Québec à Montréal (Canada) Undoubtedly, Jorge Luis Borges is a universal author. His poems, stories and essays are the object of academic studies worldwide. The critical bibliography about his work is extremely large; for instance, the Modern Language Association database indicates more than 3,000 documents. Moreover, Borges’s texts are frequently cited in countless disciplines, from physics to literary theory, to biology and history. In philosophy, Borges has been studied countless times in relation to main figures such as Bergson, Berkeley, Heraclitus, Hume and Russell, just to name a few. Recently, several scholars (Krysinski (2002), Alonso (2005) and Leerssen (2007)) have focused on the frontier between Borges’s narrative and philosophy. As Leerssen states, «*Borges’s+ Ficciones [are] valuable in a double sense: as works of literature and as thought experiments» (106). In this communication, I would like to take this discussion further and to explore the manifestation of borgesian philosophy in contemporary films. Needless to say, several direct relationships between Borges and films exist on their own. As recounted by Cozarinsky (1974, 1981, 2002), the writer himself published several reviews between 1931 and 1945, namely in El Hogar. Unfortunately, as the author’s blindness grew in intensity, he was forced to abandon this critical work. Since 1954, his texts have been adapted by directors in different countries. As the Internet Movie Database indicates, thirty- four films acknowledge being based on or inspired by Borges’s work. Moreover, in film studies, Bordwell (2002) has already established the «alternative futures category» based on Borges’s story «El jardín de senderos que se bifurcan». However, according to Bordwell, directors fail to transfer the borgesian idea of bifurcation to films given their insistence to apply traditional storytelling techniques. In contradistinction to Bordwell, I would like to propose that the transfer of the Argentinean writer’s ideas to cinema transcends direct adaptation, inspiration or narrative techniques. Borgesian ideas manifest themselves as thought experiments. Thus, we must consider Borges’s work in philosophical rather than in literary terms in order to fully appreciate his impact on cinematographic creation. Briefly, I propose that if, following Leerssen, we succeed in identifying a certain number of borgesian thought experiments, then, we can study their aesthetical appropriation by moviemakers. Specifically, I will propose that several of his stories - «El milagro secreto», «El jardín de senderos que se bifurcan», «Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius», «El Aleph», «La lotería de Babilonia» - operate in such terms. Accordingly, the presence of the philosophical content of these stories can be found in movies as different as Abre los ojos, The Matrix, Cube, 2046, and Babel. In this presentation, I will study in detail the relationship between «Funes el memorioso» and Omar Naim’s The Final Cut (2004). Essentially, both works explore what happens to the human experience when a person is entitled to remember everything. Engaging with the cadaver: analytical complexities regarding zombie embodiment from Night of the Living Dead (1968) to Land of the Dead (2005) Lucy Fife, University of Reading (UK) Horror films frequently centre on issues of physicality – bodily transformations, mutilations, ruptures. Indeed, the genre frequently offers bodies over characters as the primary point of engagement. The zombie is fundamentally about physicality: embodying the space between life and death; motivated by desires fixed on living bodies and their contents. Over the course of four films, George A. Romero’s construction of the zombie plays with their various physical possibilities: alive but dead; animated but unconscious; collective yet individual; ungainly yet deadly; oppressive yet simultaneously oppressed. Although zombie embodiment seems to be completely unindividuated and lacking in intentionality, I propose that the ambiguities raised by Romero’s approach and its modulations across the series of films suggests that the zombies are deliberately staged and specifically presented within the visual systems of his films. As such they are bodies to be engaged with and thus their embodiment could be regarded as calibrated performance. However, the act of analysing zombie performance represents a significant methodological and conceptual challenge, raising essential questions concerning the relationship between living bodies and dead bodies for the spectator as well as the performer. By considering the differing ways in which we are invited to look at the zombie over Romero’s four films my paper will seek to interrogate the interrelationship between our body and that of the performers, and the question of whether this kind of sensuous engagement is possible, or even desirable in relation to zombie embodiment. At the core of my questioning is the importance of the texture of film, which is created to a great extent by the physicality represented within the frame. Accordingly, in addressing the complexities of zombie embodiment, I will draw on a phenomenological framework to discuss the way material details of performance offer a localised relationship with the performer, as the act of analysis necessarily engages with their body, interpreting and evaluating it. Through the process of evaluation, along with the amount of access we have to a performer’s expressions and gestures, varying degrees of epistemic alignment is created. The possibility of, and implications surrounding, the relationship between us and them, our alignment and engagement with the zombie, will be the central focus of my paper. Confronting negativity: cinema and Adorno Dr Hamish Ford, Newcastle University (Australia) While Walter Benjamin and Siegfried Kracauer are today seen as providing highly relevant and influential – indeed often seminal – philosophical contributions to the study of cinema, their Frankfurt School colleague Theodor Adorno has usually been cast (despite the recent resurgence of Humanities interest in his work per se) as a villain in the film-philosophy story. If we take his thoughts on the cinema as co-authored with Max Horkheimer in Dialectic of Enlightenment as the central thesis, it can easily be surmised that Adorno’s is a jaundiced, overly homogenous view of 20th-century modernity’s quintessential media and cultural form. It is important to keep in mind the historical context in which these quite infamous comments on film were written (a period when modernist or radical filmmaking seemed least viable due to the political dominance of fascism in Europe and free-market capitalism in the USA). This paper argues, however, that it is more productive to present-day debates around the relationship between film and philosophy to lay out the case for Adorno’s unique contribution and potential usefulness through his late work. Drawing on his subtle re-thinking of cinema in the 1966 essay ‘Transparencies on Film’, but more substantively Adorno’s ultimate philosophical and aesthetic positions as expounded in Negative Dialectics and Aesthetic Theory, this paper will chart the specific relevance of this often divisive figure’s late work for investigating the significance of cinema vis-à-vis modern philosophy – in particular its potential for offering a radically anti-ontological position, as utilising film’s distinct formal elements. Central to such a discussion will be Adorno’s particular notion of ‘negativity’. A special dual usefulness in Adorno’s work motivates the paper. First, his view of filmmaking that operates at the epicentre of the culture industry can today be seen as provoking us to look afresh at the role cinema plays in sustaining the more regressive elements of contemporary socio-political life. Second, the radical negativity that could at least partially assault or undermine these elements can be seen as a useful concept by which to frame and pursue cinema’s ontologically violent potential, a potential either suppressed or engaged and foregrounded depending on the given film. This paper will suggest a very particular modernist strain of the ‘art film’ (as opposed to avant-garde works that circulate outside conventional distribution) can be considered to engage or play out – formally, thematically, and philosophically – a ‘cinema of negativity’. This is not to try and seamlessly ‘fit’ a difficult and highly contested philosopher’s work with particular films, and thereby selectively and reductively treat the latter as illustrating the (in this case almost impossible-to-satisfy) ideas and criteria of the former. Rather, seeking to privilege neither side of the equation, the paper will highlight the richness and ongoing relevance of Adorno’s late work – in particular his developed concept of negativity – and the aesthetic-philosophical elements of a strain of cinema, itself often also contested, with which it might have mutually productive explicatory relations. Going on in the same way: Wittgenstein and Bergman’s Scenes from a Marriage Dr Craig Fox, California University of Pennsylvania (USA) I would like to show why Wittgenstein’s (post-1929) work has relevance to those outside of academic philosophy. This is especially challenging, given that I take the idea of an “anti- theoretical” reading of his work to be essentially correct. My suggestion is that Ingmar Bergman’s Scenes from a Marriage (1973) can help in this task. The film portrays the marriage of Johan and Marianne, as it turns from apparent middle-class perfection, “to crisis, to reconciliation.” In this paper I want to investigate Scenes itself as a philosophical text, and I want to read it as doing philosophy similarly to the way it is done in Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations. Film can be a particularly effective medium for exploring what is sometimes referred to as the “dialectic” of philosophy. (I am not claiming that this is how one must regard Bergman’s film, but rather that this reading is a possible one. Its fruitfulness would justify the approach.) Specifically, I will demonstrate that it is plausible to regard Bergman’s film as Wittgensteinian in at least two respects. First, we may view some parts of the film as language-games in Wittgenstein’s sense. In PI§130, he says that “language-games are… set up as objects of comparison which are meant to throw light on the facts of our language by way not only of similarities but also of dissimilarities.” The most striking comparison arising out of Scenes relates to the use of the word “love.” Second, the film deals with a number of the themes that concern Wittgenstein. Even their philosophical methodologies are similar. Early in Scenes, Bergman indicates that we need to pay special attention to language, that it’s not merely some passive medium. Marianne says, when speaking of a disastrous evening spent with a rather troubled couple: “Now I know why *they+ go through such hell… They don’t speak the same language.” The implication then is that Marianne and Johan’s various ensuing problems may in some way be related to problems with language. Wittgenstein, of course, begins the Investigations by discussing language, just as he frequently did in his courses. Language thus frames themes that arise later in the film. In light of Wittgenstein’s work, I would phrase these themes in this way: what it is to speak a language, the application of the word “love,” the role conventions play in our ascribing properties to ourselves and to others, the definition of the word “marriage,” subliming the logic of our language, and the role of first-person authority in language. To be sure, there are significant differences between Bergman and Wittgenstein. (Bergman is not “anti-theoretical” in the Wittgensteinian sense, for instance.) Nonetheless, we do profit from making the comparison. We can see several ways in which Wittgenstein’s writings can be brought to bear on the topics of love, marriage, and relationships with others. Bergman’s film shows how what we may quite reasonably call “philosophical assumptions” can lead to a disharmonious life. Wittgenstein’s work, I claim, can prepare us to challenge such assumptions, helping us to avoid disharmony. Thus, if we prefer to live a harmonious life, we now have reason to pay attention to Wittgenstein’s philosophy— entirely apart from considerations about Frege, Russell, the Tractatus, and so forth. Deleuze and The Mirror: an intermediated experience of time and memory Ananya Ghoshal, English and Foreign Languages University (India) The Mirror is a dream-memory unfolding within the narrator Alexei’s (as Tarkovsky’s persona) personal history. It functions as a single, unified memory-image within a history fragmented in time. The return to and of the past, specifically the days of childhood, generates the film's narrative, but for Tarkovsky -a recuperative presentation of childhood does not exist as memory's goal or final destination. Rather, childhood's "disappearance" consists as a disturbance in time for which memory provides the image.1 Tarkovsky gives us a taste of diverse flavors of memory that time carries along in the film. They are a combination of pure perception, pure recollection and involuntary memory. He allows different aspects of time to interact with each other and the sense of time’s universality is perpetually violated by personal memories that penetrate into past histories. A sense of virtual parallels one of actual, and what is most personal becomes time-like and most universal. Correlating both private and collective memories, The Mirror, rather than acting principally as reflecting and recording surface for the universal or unique in each individual, offers the imaginary possibility of actualizing the past in the present and, therefore, of simulating a sense of its duration. Ultimately, Tarkovsky achieves a sense of temporal unity through the confusion between ontological states; an inseparable feeling of being in a here-and-now simultaneously with a there-and-then, a sense of being as much in the present as in the past. In order to better understand the manner in which Tarkovsky expresses time and involuntary memory in The Mirror, I would like to apply Gilles Deleuze’s concept of time- image cinema for the discussion. Dionysiac machines Dr Seth Giddings, UWE (UK) This paper rethinks concepts of the simulational and the simulacral for popular digital cinema. It plays concepts of the modern world as hyperreal against the more modest, pragmatic, but vital, insights of videogame studies into the literally simulational nature of digital moving images. Through a reading of Deleuze’s essay Platonism and the Simulacrum, it suggests ways of thinking about the artificial and simulacral character of contemporary technoculture and its devices, not as the implosion of reality, but of its production. Complicity thinking in postwar American and European Film Prof John Gillies, University of Essex (UK) As part of a history of complicity upon which I am currently working, I am interested in characterizing contemporary and popular forms of what I call “complicity thinking”. Complicity is taken to be either a confession or imputation of second-order wrongdoing; “complicity thinking” comprises a volatile mix of experience and reflection. While literary and philosophical traditions contribute to this picture, so too does Film. Moreso than philosophy as such and literature, perhaps, Film – with its wide appeal, its mix of generic stability with dialectical energy (inflections of generic formulae), its responsiveness to national historical experience yet increasingly its internationality – offers a nuanced and powerful measure of cultural currency and cultural movement. 1 In Sculpting In Time, Tarkovsky asserts that "what a person normally goes to the cinema for is time: for time lost or spent or not yet had." The stream of filmic complicity thinking that interests me arises with the theme of the faux coupable in postwar Hitchcock (I Confess, Strangers on a Train, The Wrong Man) and evolves through darker (if still second-order) configurations of coupabilité in which the faux element in Hitchcock drops way before more tainted kinds of kinship with wrongdoing. As examples of this post-Hitchcockian phase, I would cite the interpretative gap between the American remake of Insomnia (2002) and the original Swedish Insomnia (1997) which served as its model. Where the hero of the 1997 is left unredeemed of his taint (reminiscent of collaborator figures in Occupation-era films such as Le Corbeau, 1943), the hero of the 2002 film is finally redeemed (the city on the hill, so to speak, retorting the answer of the city of the plain). This comparison returns us to Hitchcock for the reason that his theme was already an “edition” of a European thematic of complicity. Hitchcock was only able to conceptualize his theme after an elucidation of it in I Confess by his young French champions on Le Cahiers du Cinèma. I will end by suggesting that yet more recent European films show evidence of a move towards a total complicity model where no one is redeemed or redeemable. ‘Just’ playing himself? Cary Grant, film acting and the phenomenology of gesture Dr Kathrina Glitre, UWE (UK) There is a common assumption that film stars – unlike stage actors – are, in some sense, just ‘playing themselves’. In part, this assumption reflects the deeply iconic and ‘realist’ mode of cinematic reproduction within mainstream narrative cinema. Such assumptions are complicated, however, when we consider the labour of film production, which depends upon a discontinuous process, in which a few minutes of on-screen time may take days to film. The actor must work in symbiosis with the cinematic equipment. In characterizing his own acting, Cary Grant describes a highly technical, reflective and pain-staking exercise in bodily awareness: let’s suppose I’m doing the simplest thing – speaking [one] line to someone off camera. … Hitchcock wants me to take a drink when I say the line. … If I bring the glass up too soon, I sound like a man hollering into a barrel. If I put it in front of my mouth, I spoil my expression. If I put it down too hard, I kill a word on the sound track. If I don’t, it seems unreal. … I must hold it a certain way so that the ice in the glass does not interfere with the sound. … I have to remember to keep my head up because I have a double chin. … My elbow has to be bent and turned toward my body so as not to obstruct the view of the camera. (quoted in Nancy Nelson, Cary Grant, 302) Grant’s description is so tenuously connected to any sense of characterization that some might even dispute whether this is ‘acting’. Yet, in watching such a scene, we would undoubtedly understand the character, in part, through the way in which Grant embodies him, in a seemingly ‘natural’ and ‘pre-reflective’ way. This paper explores the relationships between acting and the body by focusing on gesture. Film acting has only recently begun to attract sustained attention within film studies, and gesture has presented a particularly thorny problem: resistant to conventional semiotic analysis, understanding how gesture operates within film acting may benefit from a phenomenological approach. Specifically, I want to consider the possibility that gestural mannerisms are an inevitable consequence of the actor’s corporeal and material existence. This leads on to analysis of one of Grant’s most well-known mannerisms: the double-take. As Vivian Sobchack notes, Grant ‘was physically adept at following his “natural” response with a suddenly startled turn of the head, a horrified look, and a small but noticeable backward and horizontal motion of his upper body, these indicating (and sharing with the audience) his delayed recognition of and self-critical commentary on an initial comprehension’ (‘Thinking through Jim Carrey’, 280). In its doubleness, the gesture seems to draw attention to a gap between character and actor, as if the first take is ‘in character’, while the second take is ‘out of character’ – a sense of disbelief that encourages the audience to recognize both the absurdity and the construction of the situation. It is a mannerism which defies the assumption that he is ‘just’ playing himself, but simultaneously suggests that acting nonetheless depends on corporeal habit. The Film Philosophy of Raymond Bellour Michael Goddard, University of Salford (UK) This paper will examine how the film philosophy of Raymond Bellour has been unjustly reduced to merely being a practical version of film analysis informed by the cine-semiology of Christian Metz. Instead it will show how Bellour’s thought has also been affected by his encounters and association with philosophical figures such as Gilles Deleuze and Michel Foucault, along with the film critic Serge Daney and the film theorist/video installation artist Thierry Kuntzel, to constitute an original body of thought going well beyond the disciplinary constraints of film studies with which his name has been associated; a reduction of Bellour’s thought that is due both to the impact of his Analysis of Film on the discipline of film studies and the relative neglect of his subsequent work. Instead, this paper will concentrate on Bellour’s more recent essays collected in the two volume Entre-Images collections, which show an agile yet rigorous thought, full engaged with contemporary mutations in image production and consumption such as new media. It will show how Bellour’s thought, beyond his interest in the specificity of cinematic and other forms of technical images, constitutes a philosophically informed account of these images that both incorporates and goes beyond Deleuze’s works on cinema, without ever sacrificing a rigorous and detailed approach to cinema itself and its makers. It will argue that Bellour’s work on cinematic images exceeds the limits of film theory to constitute a film philosophy in the full meaning of the term. Can a film argue? Jerry Goodenough, University of East Anglia (UK) Critics of the proposition that the making and watching of film can itself amount to doing philosophy rely on two points. The first is that film is only partly a verbal medium: what makes it unique is precisely its filmic vocabulary, pictures, sounds, angles, cutting, the entire vocabulary of film. And secondly, that though this vocabulary may create an enriched medium for the illustration or discussion of philosophical issues, by virtue of its overwhelmingly non-verbal nature, it is incapable of arguing and therefore incapable of doing anything that amounts centrally to philosophising. In response to this I explore whether this need be true, and examine a number of instances in film where one might legitimately describe what is going on as an argument. Film, for instance, is capable of mounting what we might term an argument by analogy or by comparison. And it is capable of refuting an existing argument. Finally I ask whether arguing, in the strict sense raised by critics, is central to philosophy in quite the way they think. Five obstructions as five disguised repetitions: Lars von Trier’s creative actions laboratory Aleksandra Hirszfeld, University of Warsaw (Poland) Lars von Trier is known as an artist searching for new cinematic forms, often mixing “genres” and using given elements or rules in non-conventional ways. In my presentation I will try to reveal and describe particular figures of repetition, operating as an important strategy on different levels of von Trier’s film-work. I would also like to explain, more generally, the role of these figures in Lars von Trier’s artistic method. My main example will be Five Obstructions – one of the most interesting remakes ever done (this re-making itself being the first figure of repetition to analyze). Five Obstructions, a variation-iteration of Jorgen Leth’s: The Perfect Human (Det Perfekte Menneske, 1967), is a piece of art composed of five film-repetitions, each of them submitted to a different set of restrictions. Another figure of repetition – even more important from the analytical point of view, directly concerning the theoretical question I would like to discuss – refers to the formal construction of a particular film-genre, i.e. the “document”. It consists in extending the very limits of this genre, in modifying both its nature and function. I do not mean a simple repetition of a documentary “scheme”; in this particular document the function of the genre itself becomes a subject of double or even triple repetition. On the one hand, just as every “normal” document, it refers to what has “happened”, and thus in a certain way repeats the “initial” event (being itself a process of re-making, the repeating of a film by a famous Danish film documentalist (sic!)). On the other hand, it visualizes (although not directly), documents the basic technique of Lars von Trier’s way of making movies. It reveals and repeats Lars von Trier’s creative actions’ laboratory on the screen. In my interpretation of von Trier’s Five Obstructions I will use several concepts introduced by Gilles Deleuze in Difference and repetition and How Do We Recognize structuralism? Making explicit the hidden structures and production of difference through repetition – these are definitely the basic artistic strategies of the father of “Dogma”. Most useful for understanding von Trier will be the Deleuzian concepts of “bare” and “disguised” repetition, “differential relations”, “singularities” (or: singular points) , “object = x”, and the “empty square”. I will try to explain their philosophical meaning and to make it operational for film- analysis. The Five obstructions will then appear as a work of art that “embodies” directly the idea of disguised repetition, as an auto-referential film bringing to light the very mechanisms of artistic creation, the inner organization of von Trier’s laboratory. Creating new ways and forms of expression in cinema, forcing the limits of given genres – all this would never be possible without the “genius” of von Trier, but likewise it would be unattainable without a certain “structuralist” tendency, his capacity to “dig down” to structural, formal relations. Beauvoir’s phenomenology and Jean-Claude van Damme: feminist thoughts on fragmented subjects and anxious masculinity in Replicant, Maximum Risk, Timecop and Double Impact Dr Samantha Holland, Sheffield Hallam University (UK) In this paper I investigate how four popular US action films speak to, work through, and represent anxieties about the embodied "self". Initially, I explore ways in which expressions of lived experience in the films both reveal anxious responses to issues of selfhood and sexuality, and suggest a startlingly Beauvoirian approach to thinking about them. Expanding on this, I argue that the films can be read as understanding yet rejecting notions of philosophy-as-system, and as embracing instead a more discursive – and anti-patriarchal, even feminist – approach to philosophy. In each film, martial arts action star Jean-Claude Van Damme plays two characters; my focus is on how the resulting fragmentation of the central character(s) produces films that in many ways run counter to western philosophy’s – and mainstream narrative film’s – shared impetus towards system and closure. This is why the films can be read as rejecting notions of philosophy-as-system, representing it instead as relational and discursive – an approach advocated in and by the work of Simone de Beauvoir. To illustrate and evidence this reading, I look closely at elements of all four films in relation to Beauvoir’s work and Sara Heinämaa’s articulation of her phenomenology. I draw an initial parallel between the films and Beauvoir’s approach to philosophy by arguing that just as Beauvoir comprehends yet questions philosophical systems and doctrines by appealing to the evidence of her lived experience, so the films seem to both understand what Van Damme’s characters apparently set out to represent – a unified and dominant masculine subject – but question the validity of that very aim by appealing to his lived experience. I develop parallels between the films’ and Beauvoir’s key concerns, showing that the films do ‘not compromise the specificity or particularity of the lived experience to adjust it to the idea of a totality or one comprehensive system’ (Heinämaa 6). For instance, I consider how the focus on Van Damme’s body perhaps gives him/his characters a more intimate experience of the lived body as alien than many masculine subjects have. I investigate how this might explain not only the films’ failures to shore up dominant certainties about being- a-man, but their alternative suggestions (more akin to Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s and Beauvoir’s) that difference is a dynamic concept, more reliant on gestures and movement than on bio-scientific bodies and organs. Throughout, I foreground the significance of gender representation to the discussion, suggesting that the films’ representations of philosophy as discursive rather than systematic goes some considerable way to explaining why they are so frequently derided – and why Van Damme, in particular, is often “feminised” through repeated critical references to his gay fan base and homoerotic imagery. My discussion, then, uses Beauvoir’s feminist phenomenology to re-think ways in which masculinity in film is theorised. In particular, I suggest that filmic representations of masculinity have at times been theorised far too reductively, as shoring up notions of woman as absolute other, when some representations of masculine subjects arguably reveal or display dissatisfaction and unease with precisely such essentialist notions. Access to interiority through performance in Elia Kazan’s East of Eden (1954) Ceri Hovland, University of Reading (UK) There are several ways in which film has signified character interiority. Many of these rhetorical devices, and similarly many studies on the issue of interiority, are focused on how and whether film can provide access to a ‘first person’ or ‘subjective’ experience of interiority. In this paper, I am going to focus on the ‘third person’ access to character interiority more commonly provided by film. This type of access follows our understanding of other people’s interiority in everyday life, which is inferred on the basis of visible behaviour and is limited by the epistemic boundaries between self and other. I refer to this, with a degree of caution, as ‘third person’ access to interiority following a novelistic lead, rather than an ‘objective’ access because the latter implies a lack of partiality or bias. This would further complicate the epistemic dimension of an already complex epistemological and semantic issue. I shall explore this issue through an analysis of the performances in Elia Kazan’s East of Eden (1954). I shall consider what kinds of interiority the film offers and how it offers them. I will then address how the techniques used enable the film to negotiate the problems of access to interiority. In particular, I will focus on interiority as a marker of a particular kind of complexity sought after in ‘Method’ performances of the 1950s. In my discussion, I will situate the issue of access to character interiority as an element of what George Wilson has referred to as theories of cinematic point of view and strategies of narration. I will also argue that the construction of character interiority in film is a product of interaction - interaction between the characters, and our interaction with the text. When Method-trained actors, such as Marlon Brando, James Dean and Karl Malden, gained popular acclaim for their performances in the 1950s, it was thought that a ‘new style’ of film acting had burst onto movie screens. Although the Method is a training technique, at this time it was linked with a style of ‘heightened realism’ and with the effective depiction of complex, idiosyncratic, psychologically motivated characters. This paper will explore how characters with a complex interiority were constructed through the concrete details of these ‘Method’ performances. It will argue that it is the Method’s concentration on specificity, individuation and ordinariness, a concentration which grounds the depiction of moment-by-moment fluctuations in a character’s ‘inner life’ and thus allows the construction of interiority. In Kazan’s films this highly expressive or communicative performance style is combined with a ‘transparent’ style of narration, and thus marked by the ‘authoritativeness’ and ‘reliabilty’ of the epistemic base it provides for the spectator. Accordingly, the spectator can confidently draw conclusions about a character’s inner life on the basis of the character’s behaviour and interaction with other characters. Glocal gloom: existential space in Haneke’s French-language films Dr Kate Ince, University of Birmingham (UK) Michael Haneke is a leading example of transnational filmmaking, but the literal crossing of borders is not the only way in which his cinema is a cinema of space. This paper will explore Haneke’s realisation of existential or lived space, the type of space theorised by existential phenomenology. Juhani Pallasmaa’s The Architecture of Image: existential space in cinema is one recent publication to have taken up the suggestive relevance of a phenomenological understanding of space to cinema, and in it Pallasmaa proposes both that cinema is closer to architecture than any other art form (because both architecture and film articulate lived space and ‘create experiential scenes of life situations’ (Pallasmaa 2001: 13)), and that the ‘identification’ of physical and mental space that follows from an existential phenomenological understanding of human embodiment is ‘intuitively grasped’ by certain film directors. By exploring these ideas in relation to a number of particular shots and scenes from three of Haneke’s French-language films, Code Unknown, Time of the Wolf and Hidden, this paper will shed light on how the pervasive atmospheres of Haneke’s cinema – the questioning, uncertainty and fear that have become his trademarks – are generated, and how these atmospheres exert the power they do on his audiences. Fight Club as pseudo-festivity: an encounter with Josef Pieper Dr Jessy Jordan, Baylor University (USA) In his books In Tune with the World and Leisure: The Basis of Culture, Josef Pieper diagnoses what he calls a culture of total work. A culture of total work is one in which the human being has been reduced to a mere functionary and in which the sphere of justifiable human action must be defended with reference to an action’s contribution to the overall social utility. In this culture, the human being is conceptualized as worker, which in the deeper anthropological sense refers to a conception of the human person where productivity and efficiency are the hallmarks of being fully human. Pieper laments that this culture excludes spheres of activity that are part of a richer vision of that which is properly human, including free activities not justified as means to some other end, but that are ends in themselves. Pieper maintains that the only possible cure for the dehumanizing effects of a culture of total work is the recovery of authentic festivity, the heart of which is a fundamental life affirmation. While work is a necessary and even good part of human life, festivity is the truly human activity, transcending the totalizing effect of the work-a-day world. Although written in the context of post World War II Germany, Pieper’s diagnosis of a culture of total work shares shocking similarities to the diagnosis of contemporary American culture provided by the 1999 film, Fight Club. In its own idiosyncratic manner, Fight Club articulates the general malaise and despair evident in a culture where the human person has been reduced to mere functionary and is the victim of the dehumanizing influences of the American capitalist bureaucratic machine. In this paper, I first outline the similarities in the diagnosis of a culture of total work presented by Pieper and Fight Club. Second, I sketch the differences between the solutions offered by each. Both prescribe a certain type of festivity; however, the two visions of festivity are radically at odds. Pieper conceives of festivity as transcending dehumanizing forces through the affirmation of existence experienced in worship. Fight Club, on the other hand, focuses on self-destruction, a kind of activity that, despite its obvious differences, similarly resists being reduced to the logic of total work. Finally, I discuss Pieper’s distinction between festivity and pseudo-festivity, showing that the festivity offered in Fight Club is a pseudo-festivity. What is philosophical criticism? Dr Andrew Klevan, University of Oxford (UK) Given the current debates concerning film and philosophy and film as philosophy, and the validity of these associations, I thought it might be helpful to attend to a particular meeting of philosophy and film, one that might fairly be called philosophical (film) criticism, and highlight its characteristics and purposes. Stanley Cavell is the most noted practitioner of philosophical criticism, and he is the person who has sought to conceptualise it most explicitly and thoroughly, but it may also be associated with contemporary writers such as William Rothman, George Toles, George M. Wilson, Gilberto Perez, and V.F.Perkins (and myself). Firstly, there is the aspect of discovering, and rediscovering, a moment: one aspect of Cavell’s method is that it does not presume there is a self-evident way to approach a text or assume what a revelatory instance in a text might look like. Cavell is especially alive to moments, possibly ordinary or straightforward, which he reveals to be quietly mysterious. This approach is particularly telling with regard to film where the ordinary lucidity of film dramatisation means significance may be readily available but not immediately easy to see. For Cavell, a single dramatic action, a posture, a gesture, or a seemingly perfunctory line of dialogue triggers an open-ended investigation, and is unexpectedly fecund. Cavell writes, ‘The work of such criticism is to reveal its object as having yet to achieve its due effect. Something there, despite being fully open to the senses, has been missed.’ One turns to the moment, initially perhaps with only the vaguest intuition of its worth, and returns, repeatedly testing its components and one’s own experience of it. Through an intricate, and intimate, investigation of how the elements of a moment, a scene or a sequence work, one endeavours not simply to reveal meaning but to trace the movement of meaning. Secondly, there is the very act of writing, especially description, which is a means of revelation. Because film has a special capacity to embody the metaphorical in the literal, in the physical and in the real, we may describe the actual in such a way that discloses the symbolic. Thirdly, there is the question of how the moment relates to the film as a film: observing how the style of this film works is also a way of reflecting on how this film uses the medium, how it reflects on the medium; indeed our modes of reflection, quite appropriately, reflect each other. There is also, finally, and crucially, a critical dimension, or more accurately an appreciative one to philosophical criticism. Cavell writes about, ‘a particular form of criticism…after the fact of pleasure, articulate*s+ the grounds of this experience in particular objects.’ This appreciative dimension is often missing from academic film analysis, philosophically minded or otherwise. As Adrian Martin writes, ‘appreciation is what the spectator must rise to and what she or he can create…in an interplay of description, evocation and analysis.’ Worship the miracle child: infertile multiculturalism and the politics of hybridity in Children of Men Elspeth kydd, UWE (UK) From the etymology of 'mulatto' in the word 'mule', hybridity and fertility have been intimately linked. The idea that an excess of hybridity leads to sterility is a legacy of the racist theories of the nineteenth century polygenesists. Even with the basis of scientific racism discredited, narratives of racial mixture often feature heightened anxieties around reproduction and a racialisation of the processes of child bearing and rearing. The sterile world of Alfonso Cuaron's Children of Men is a hybrid world, a place of multiculturalism imploded, representing a planet overly mixed and out of control. It is also a world where binarisms are re-established and the split between 'them' and 'us' reinscribed. Here, in the urban decay, is a sterile, infertile humanity facing their pending end as a species. These elements of the dystopian fantasy are linked, as the world of hybridity and multiculturalism gone mad has led to the death of the future in the sterile world. Yet there is also the contradictory element introduced in this narrative: the disempowerment and the impotence the while male figure of privilege. Drawing on opposing themes of white racial degeneracy also prevalent in nineteenth century, the death of the human race is a projected fear of the white male protagonist. The anxieties of these failures are embodied in the character of Theo: the representative of the tragedy of white male impotent disempowerment. Into this dystopian future arrives Kee, the African woman whose fertile body offers the messianic hope to the dying world. The black-woman-earth-mother trope is the film's highly racialised comment on the nature of gender, race and difference and a stereotype that works in conjunction and in conflict with Theo as sterile white masculinity. This paper explores the intersection of race and gender in the presentation of infertile multiculturalism and the conflicting representation of the causes of that infertility: too much sameness or too much difference. The concept of repetition: a new methodology in the field of film Dr Birgit Maria Leitner, University of Jena (Germany) The lecture introduces a new film-philosophical methodology. It is based on the material and ideal element of repetition. With special reference to the film author / auteur Jim Jarmusch (USA) and parts of his films ”Permanent Vacation” (1980) and “Mystery Train” (1989) it will be shown how the concept is developed by an aesthetic-philosophical thinking. Therefore I am going to discuss in what way the filmic repetition can be combined with philosophical positions concerning “temporality”, “spatiality” or “memory” – as thought by Henri Bergson, Charles Sanders Peirce and Gilles Deleuze. The concept of repetition differs basically from standardized methods of film analysis up to now (like categorizations of cadrage, styles of montage etc.). Because of its semiotical / semiological appearance the repetition takes part on the continuation of processual coding. The filmic repetition evokes questions like: “what is said?” (directed at semiology, i. e. film language) or “what is expressed”? (turned towards semiotics, i. e. on what happens through tokens and images, the in-between of images). The reading of the “Structures of Repetition” serves to underline how films by Jim Jarmusch are thinking reality – through repetition as a key of temporality and spatiality. Roland Barthes’ explanation: “The birth of the reader must be at the cost of the death of the author” (1968) finds as far as that goes its confirmation, because of auteur structuralism is bringing the concept of repetition to application not by giving a special emphasis on biographical references but on structures. Jacques Derrida emphasizes that writing would mean producing symbols through presenting itself as a productive machinery which can be read and re-written, but can’ t be prevented from functioning in case of “my” disappearance. That means, Derrida’s examination testifies that through the material form of the repetition every filmic text stays readable even if the so called author can’t take responsibility for what he has written, should he be absent, should he be dead. So far the thinking of the repetition doesn’t form a definite concept that would give priority to any film-philosophical theory or deliver an empirical evidence. Much more it means an interpretational act which serves as a prove that the relevant hypotheses of sense through symbols could derive from semiotical and philosophical considerations of the thinking of repetition. Begin the begin: eschatological battles, soteriology, ontology, and ideology in the child sexual abuse film Dr Jason Lee, University of East London (UK) During the 1980s discourse concerning child sexual abuse became central to the media and public debate, and in the 1990s popular culture frequently took child sexual abuse as a subject for representation. Numerous claims of child sexual abuse were made, specifically between 1984 and 1994, not of all of which were genuine. Throughout the early 1990s, the media obsessively highlighted reports concerning abduction by paedophiles, and children being at risk from predatory paedophiles. For Jenny Kitzinger during the mid-1990s there was ‘child abuse fatigue’. Juries were less likely to convict accused abusers, due to an awareness of ‘false memory syndrome’, and other factors. Many films over the past three decades have reproduced some of the central myths concerning child sexual abuse and paedophilia. Men abusing children, women abusing children, children abusing other children, even children abusing mentally disabled adults who appear like children, became staple fodder. While the media continually made child sexual abuse a central concern of public debate, popular culture, particularly films, explored this issue in fiction and docudrama. Premodern and non-Western societies embrace in symbolic imaginaries demons, and other unnatural or supernatural creatures. In contrast, from its onset in the 17th century, modern culture has aspired to enmesh without remainder all of being within its conceptual nets. The Cartesian ideal of total knowledge and total control lives on in 21st century science, technology, and global markets. In neo-Kantian morality the exception to the order of reason or rational discourse cannot be truly human and becomes identified with radical evil – frequently the paedophile. With reference to powerful films, both for aesthetic and political reasons, as well as philosophical, such as Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia (1999), Tim Roth’s The War Zone (1999), and Atom Egoyan’s The Sweet Hereafter (1997), this paper seeks to explain the eschatological, soteriological, and ideological aspects of the child sexual abuse film. By doing so, I examine key philosophical truths concerning these films, the cultures that produced them, and ongoing ontological issues. An impression of distant reality: Michotte’s experimental phenomenology and the cinematic situation Sigrid Leyssen, University of Leuven (Belgium) How are we to explain the specific behaviour of moviegoers? This question has been evoking debate from the earliest days of film theory until the present. When we are watching a film, we cry, flinch or turn away in disgust, but we never try to interfere. This is usually explained by stating that we know that what we perceive is not real. In this paper, I will turn to the work of an experimental phenomenologist, Albert Michotte (1881-1965), for bringing other, non-epistemic factors into account, in order to elucidate the cinematic situation and the behaviour it encompasses. Michotte notes that ‘a motion picture *usually+ provides a very vivid impression of the reality of the things and events perceived on the screen.’ Instead of knowledge of reality, Michotte sets out to study the very different forms and degrees of this impression of reality. In the cinema, Michotte argues, there is a special conflict at work that leads us to have ‘the impression of actually perceiving real entities and events, but this involves a more or less distorted reality, belonging (psychologically speaking) to a world not entirely our own, one which seems somewhat distant.’ It is not because we know that cinema is not real that we do not act to interfere. It is rather this very specific kind of phenomenal reality that we experience directly at the level of perception that determines our behaviour in the cinematic situation. We perceive the film as having phenomenal reality, but it is a reality that is somewhat distant, a reality that does not allow for our interference. We may not act to interfere in reaction to the events we perceive in the cinema, but we do act. We flinch, gasp for breath, contort our face, tighten our muscles or cry. Michotte tackles this part of the problem by studying our motor reactions to events we see. He is fascinated by the variety of ways in which we accord or even fuse our movements with the action on the screen (what he calls motor empathy). He then suggests a parallel with how we bring our emotions, and even mental attitudes, thoughts and judgements in accord with the events on the screen. The role of the impression of distance is central here again. Michotte analyses the cinematic situation in terms of segregating and integrating factors, the combination of which leads to different impressions of distance and different sorts of what he calls motor and emotional empathy. Scenes from a marriage: metatheoretical reflections on film and philosophy Dr Dimitri Liebsch, University of Bochum (Germany) / University of Atlanta (USA) In my paper I introduce a typology that reflects the various interactions between philosophy and film. Paying attention to the historical development since the early 20th century, I will focus on the following types: a) DISRESPECT. Until the 1970s films have often been viewed as inferior and therefore were disregarded. Surprisingly, this has also been the case even when one might expect otherwise. For example, Sarte wrote film scripts but did not mention films in his typology of images, and Goodman’s general semiotic in Language of Art mentions film only in a single sentence. b) REINTERPRETATION. Due to the general disrespect, positive reactions to film were mostly possible only when film was reinterpreted in a distorting way. For instance, when Adorno did not defame film as the quintessence of the culture industry he denied the technological side and emphasized its proximity to the beauty of nature. Another example is Benjamin’s The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Production and its hope for the end of bourgeois art. This hope is not based on established film but on projects of the early Soviet avant- garde and more specifically on Tretjakov’s operative literature. c) REIFICATION. When considering the relationship between film and philosophy, one might think that film usually is the object and philosophy the method (such as in the ontology or epistemology of film or in the interpretation of single movies). Yet, there is no homogeneity but only various relationships: Firstly, a plurality of film and types of films; secondly, a plurality of philosophical methods (positivism, phenomenology, analytic philosophy, poststructualism etc.). Furthermore, the line between theory of film and film philosophy is very thin as can be seen in Currie’s “grand theory”). d) ILLUSTRATION. Since the 1990s we have a boom of texts discovering philosophy in film. Film is here seen as an illustration for classical or big questions of philosophy (most prominently in the work of Litch, Falzon or the series X and Philosophy). According to this approach, we can see a film in order to understand Plato. In terms of didactics, this may make sense, but there are two problems with this approach: firstly, it often reduces the examination of film, and secondly, by no means can all philosophical problems be illustrated through film. e) ORIGIN. While as illustration film is put second, philosophy does not have to be seen as prior or primary. Lately, there has been a tendency to understand film as philosophy (Mulhall, Engell, Smith). Here, film itself is the origin of philosophy. This is currently a popular approach, it is, however, also problematic. According to Carroll, film as philosophy is in most cases nothing but the illustration of already existing ideas. Furthermore, he argues, one needs an “interpretative framework” outside of film in order to read a particular film as philosophy. In other words, film philosophy as origin is either nothing different from academic philosophy or requires it. f) JUXTAPOSITION. Film as philosophy can be put in relation to academic philosophy but without overlooking the independence of either one. For example, according to Merleau- Ponty, both film (as a genre) and phenomenology show their interest for the interlocking of subject, fellow beings, and world. Deleuze also sees a discovery of “movement image” and “time image” in film as well as in Bergson’s philosophy. And for Cavell, film and philosophy both provoke us to think about things “that ordinary human beings cannot help thinking about.“ Therefore, in his Cities of Words he combines texts on classical moral philosophy and on Hollywood’s golden age. Against this backdrop, I want to present some general remarks on the marriage between film and philosophy and discuss the following aspects and questions: Fortunately, the time of DISRESPECT is over. And film as ILLUSTRATION of philosophy makes sense if one takes into consideration that film in this context is not looked at as film. Why is the type of film as the ORIGIN of philosophy currently so popular although it is so problematic? Maybe this only expresses the effort to finally take film seriously. But possibly it is only a rhetorical strategy: In contrast to the normal case of the REIFICATION, a film that ‘thinks for itself’ can at first sight be more easily distinguished from a theory of film. Finally, the approach of JUXTAPOSITION is promising, at least when it does not strive for a detection of identity but rather a creative comparison such as done by Cavell, who ties Buster Keaton’s gaze to Heidegger’s key concepts of time and being. Kierkegaard and Lars von Trier: the suspension of ethics and the cinema of choice Prof Laura Llevadot, University of Barcelona (Spain) In the Lectures on the Dialectics of Ethical and Ethico-Religious Communication [Pap. VIII B 79-89, 141-190] Kierkegaard distinguishes between the communication of knowledge [Videns Meddelelse], whose main aim is to convey the objective truth, and the communication of ability or capacity [Kunnens Meddelelse], which is concerned with doing rather than knowing. In this sense the communication of capacity proposed by Kierkegaard understands that the objective of communication is an ethical or ethico-religious truth – a subjective truth – which must be reduplicated and appropriate, rather than intellectually understood. This distinction, which leads Kierkegaard to reconsider the stylistic strategies of his works to the extent that he was trying to convey an ethical or ethico-religious truth rather than an objective truth, can help us in understanding Lars von Trier´s concept of cinema. Lars von Trier, like Kierkegaard, is concerned with the how [hvorledes+ of communication: “I have observed that nobody until now has been genuinely interested in the future of cinema. (...) Directors only talk about their personal ideas, but do not question themselves about the medium of cinema” (Trier, 2001). But this questioning of the medium of cinema can be found in one of Vinterberg´s observations: “Dogma is a challenge to the conformity of cinema. Cinema is the most conservative art form of our times”. In order to understand this statement, we should go back to the original criticisms of the cinematographic medium and which, after the Second World War, generated a new pedagogy of perception. This criticism of the conformity of cinematographic language has been conceptualized as the shift from the moving image to the image of time (G. Deleuze); from the cinema of “montage” to the cinema of “mostrage” (Lapoujade) or from montage cinema to flat cinema (Raúl Ruiz). My thesis is that this distinction is parallel to that which Kierkegaard established in Lectures on the Dialectics of Ethical and Ethico-Religious Communication, concerning the communication of knowledge and the communication of ability, and that this is where Lars von Trier´s cinematographic techniques lie, which he has been practising since 1995. What Kierkegaard and Lars von Trier have in common is their awareness that aesthetics – whether in philosophical or cinematographic styles – are always subservient to something else, to a practical truth, even religious, which arises when ethics are suspended and whose form of expression must allow the audience the freedom of choice. To develop this thesis, I will make a comparative analysis of Fear and Trembling, by Kierkegaard, and Lars von Trier´s film Breaking the Waves (1996). My paper will develop the following points: 1.- Criticism of the conventionality of the cinematographic medium; 2.- Kierkegaard´s proposal of “communication of power or capacity” and its reflexion in the cinematographic art of Trier; and 3.- The suspension of the ethical and its transmission through the aesthetics of choice in Fear and Trembling and Breaking the Waves; 4.- The analogy between Kierkegaardian criticism of the philosophical and discursive style of modernity and Lars von Trier´s criticism of the conventionality of cinema. The event in Werckmeister Harmonies Steven Marchant , Royal Holloway University of London (UK) This paper examines how Béla Tarr’s Werckmeister Harmonies (2000) uses the sequence shot to stage an event which is simultaneously physical and metaphysical. Throughout the film the mise en scène emphasises the raw, mute physicality of bodies involved in actions. Tarr insists on the actual time it takes to walk from here to there, and on the textures, rhythms, and sounds of the body engaged in that act of walking. Yet at the same time, staging each event within a sequence shot, he ensures that every event in the film is inseparable from something which does not take place: the shot itself. In this way the event of the Werckmeister shot is commensurate with its own void. The occurrence of the event is the void of the event. Tarr is not the first filmmaker to use the difference between the event in the shot and the event of the shot as a way of opening up a metaphysical dimension within the work. Antonioni and Tarkovsky both developed a comparable aesthetic. However in each case the metaphysical aspect is staged differently: Antonioni aligns it with the void of human being (the void which founds existential freedom); Tarkovsky casts it as a redemptive beyond immanent within the event; and Tarr, neither existential nor spiritual, renders it as the nothing which inhabits the interior of the event. In exploring the originality of Tarr’s staging of the event in Werckmeister Harmonies the paper will draw on Heidegger’s ‘What is Metaphysics?’, in particular the discussion of metaphysics as the thinking of the nothing. “Une valse à mille temps”: history as eternal return according to Stanley Kubrick’s Adorno (and Theodor Adorno’s Kubrick) Dr José Manuel B. Martins, Universidade de Évora (Portugal) The aim of this paper is to present a reading of Stanley Kubrick’s central trilogy (Dr. Strangelove, 2001: A Space Odyssey and A Clockwork Orange) using an Adornian (and Horkheimerian) key. Kubrick’s Trilogy is thus featured through an “Adornian lens” as a cinematic constellation of pure Critical Theory thought. The trilogy (as “speechless” work of art) provides in its turn illuminating insights about the interplaying of core concepts such as reason and history, myth and technology, violence and reification, mankind and humanity, society and fear. The “nuclear” argument will develop as follows: assuming that the conceptual structure of the (in the strong sense) Dialectics of Enlightenment implies not only the reciprocal figure of myth-as-already-reason and reason-as-myth-anew in linear chronology, but also the circular temporality of a continuous (rational) advancement of (mythical) regression (therefore paralysing History in the Eternal Return of Itself as still “Pre-History”), the question about “when is 2001” is not to be answered empirically (back from *King] apes once again, some time after major Kong’s atomic Armageadon of Dr. Strangelove, given the raccord between the two films’ extreme cosmic-epochal images: sunset as sunrise), but rather structurally: sunrise as already sunset, inasmuch as Zarathustra’s Übermensch leitmotiv both opens and closes this startling evolution process that equals - as a Nitzschean the Same - bone and spaceship, pre- and post-humans, through the very ellipse of World History, v.g., through the abolition of real temporal difference. It is not us going back to our Sisyphic task of ever becoming human, but the entire self-returning structure of History as such which returns and has always been returning upon us and announcing its (and our) end as a principle. Then, of course, atomic destruction was already there, “shining” since the first dawn for seers’ eyes wide shut, because what happens is not that we keep returning or that we would risk to return once and for all to pre-history, but rather that what we endlessly do is to return to history’s very pre-structure of Return. That’s what turns Kubrick into a sharpened and massive critical theorist (and so much so because he does it more à son insu, and ever so much so because he thinks cinematographically: which means combining visual, narrative, musical and conceptual dimensions in an inexhaustible filmic-philosophical Gestalt). Another Kubrick’s virtuoso raccord reminds us of how far (Johann) Strauss’ “waltz” (= revolving, circular) regime commands (the other) Strauss’ ascending (promising/menacing), awe-inspiring musical theme: the redemptional Superhuman star child orbits, in his cosmic navigation, from one film to another, to nowhere else but… Alex’s angel face of an ultraviolent perpetrator, set in his own childlike, ominous dawn: drinking pure white milk from a sort of an electrossexual post-surrealist bar table. And just like a whole genealogy of Modernist ancestors could be produced regarding what arguably is the tour-de-force feature of 2001 - the black Monolit (from the shadow of Poe’s Raven to Malevich’s Black Square, that we shall argue to represent, all of them, the reification of reason), a corresponding antecedent for the “clockwork orange” oxymoron could be unearthed as archaeologically as in Kant’s conception of what is to be a systematic whole (both Pure reason’s Architectonics, and his doctrine of the organized body - never named, nor plainly recognized, as… life!-, combine almost impossibly the organic and the mechanical rational principles, prefiguring Frankfurt School’s diagnosis of a contemporary system of total ratio). Not so remote antecedents, nevertheless, as Homer’s Odyssey would appear to be to Kubrick’s, were it not for Adorno’s penetrating demonstration of History’s dialectic con-temporareity to itself, and of that of Ulysse’s to us. Menacing sounds: neuroscience and the film experience Dr Richard T. McClelland, Gonzaga University (USA) Recent neuroscientific studies of brain functioning indicate that we are hard-wired to discriminate sounds of rising intensity from other sounds and that these sounds of rising intensity function as an automatic warning to animals of our type. Our subjective response to that warning cue makes these what we might call “menacing sounds,” where “menace” refers to this affective appraisal that we attach to them. Such menacing sounds also serve to prime our imaginative functions, including their further affective representations. What they cause us to imagine is various kinds of disasters or catastrophes, especially those of being severely wounded or killed by a predator (whether human or non-human). Such responses are, ex hypothesi, the result of our long evolutionary history and reach back to the earliest period of environmental adaptation for our species. (I presume that these remain adaptive responses, even though contemporary homo sapiens in Western affluent cultures may have relatively little realistic need of them.) Even the exaggeration of the affective responses (beyond what the aural environment actually warrants) makes good evolutionary sense, for it is better to over-react needlessly to a remote and unrealized possibility of violent death or maiming than it is to fail to react and have that remote possibility become actual. Many genres of contemporary film trade on these ancient brain mechanisms and their automatic deployment in the audience. One thinks of horror films, to be sure, but also thrillers and action films, as well as animations and some dramas. Further brain studies indicate that the motivational and affective results of menacing sounds are likely to be heightened when the object causing the sound of rising intensity cannot be seen. One thinks of approaching footsteps where the person is not visible to us, or the approach of a train, of a car, the rising intensity of a siren. Musical scores, of course, often mimic these effects, and here one cannot help but think of the theme of Jaws and the skillful use those film-makers put it to. The sound of the approaching tanks (heard long before they appear visibly) in the pivotal combat sequence in Saving Private Ryan have similar effects. Someone has said that if there is one quintessential sound of the twentieth-century, it is the sound of approaching tank treads. Here we see some of the affective results of those sounds. We explore here, by way of some representative examples, elements of this basic situation. We explore the appraisals that the accompanying affects marshal. We explore the automaticity of our responses to menacing sounds. We explore also Colin McGinn’s analogy between our experience of film and dreaming, especially with regard to the imaginative and affective products of these sounds. We explore the epistemic value of these responses: what it is that we come to know by means of them. And we explore a further analogy prompted by these neuroscientific findings, our experience of films in which menacing sounds are prominent, and the evolutionary import of all this: the film experience as laboratory for the investigation of the human mind and its supporting neurological structures and processes. Funny Games U.S. – remake Dr Andrew McGettigan, Middlesex University (UK) “Anyone who leaves the cinema doesn’t need the film, anyone who stays, does.” Michael Haneke “Just try – in a real case – to doubt someone else’s fear or pain.” Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations §303 This paper will consider the critical reception of Michael Haneke’s recent English-language remake of his own 1997 film. Given the mixed history of such remakes, attention has been directed to the director’s own comments in this regard. Rather than indicate a financial or commercial imperative, or dissatisfaction with the artistic achievement of the original, Haneke presents his shot-for-shot ‘self-plagiarism’ as motivated by the need for more “Americans” to see the film. As a result, the film’s critical reception has tended to focus on the power of its message as parable. In this paper, I wish, first, to situate Funny Games in the recent history of cinema examining its relation both to those films which satirise the media representation of violence and to those which aim to alienate, antagonise or preach to the audience. Funny Games disrupts general film and genre conventions, but it does not justify this split through recourse to overt moralising or by asking to be judged as homily rather than entertainment. Tellingly, in subsequent films, Haneke has not himself adhered to the imputed prescription for the depiction of violence. Second, it is imperative to highlight the campaign of misinformation, ambush and shock that surrounded both versions of Funny Games. My suspicion is that this campaign is primarily directed against critics rather than the general viewing public. Pundits, reliant on access, interviews and PR releases, seem overly keen to demonstrate that they ‘get’ the film whilst neglecting what’s on the screen. This is a harrowing film without the normal cathartic outlets. As such peculiar empathetic effects are generated. We know this is not a “real case”, yet paradoxically, the directorial devices used ‘to show the audience how open to manipulation they are’ do not undercut the simulated fear and pain: the anguish is increased. Here is where the critical focus ought to lie and I hope to offer some preliminary observations negotiating both Brecht and Aristotle. Thinking the commodity through the moving image: theorising the relationship between capital and ‘cinematic consciousness’ Dr Nick Mercer, University of Western Australia (Australia) In The Cinematic Mode: Attention Economy and the Society of the Spectacle Jonathan Beller makes the bold proposition that at the turn of the twentieth century cinema inaugurated a historical shift in the capitalist mode of production. More than just a technical invention or a new aesthetic medium, cinema, Beller argues, gives rise to the ‘cinematic mode of production’, which describes a new historical modality of capitalist production that extends the power and logic of capital to the internal domain of the human senses and towards establishing a visual economy of attention. Beller’s thesis makes the claim that the cinematic apparatus provides a ‘prototechnology for the capitalisation of human attention’ and that ‘looking as labor (sic) represents a tendency towards increasingly abstract instances of the new relationship between labor and capital, a new regime of the technological positioning of bodies for the purpose of value extraction’. However, Beller isn’t the first to assert that during the period of late modernity capital began to impose a ‘disciplinary regime of attentiveness’ in order to manage and control the distracted gazes of the masses. Jonathan Crary’s study into the way capital attempts to resolve the problem of inattention created at the end of the nineteenth century by its own destabilising forces of acceleration and dislocation identifies cinema as the pre-eminent disciplinary technology of the time. Crary contends that in cinema capital found an apparatus that could manage attention and synthesise perceptual consciousness, something that had become critical in modern urban societies where the ‘fragmentation and atomisation of *the+ cognitive field’ had begun to threaten the social and productive capacity of labour upon which capital relied. In this paper I am going to investigate Beller’s and Crary’s historical-philosophical theses by situating them in the context of film philosophy, or more specifically, a Marxian film philosophy. Drawing on Gilles Deleuze’s cinema philosophy as well as more recent interventions into film philosophy by Daniel Frampton, I aim to delineate and explore the historical, theoretical, philosophical and ontological object of cinema as a capitalised ‘cinematic consciousness’. Put simply, ‘cinematic consciousness’ is the term that I use to describe what Deleuze names as cinema’s ‘machine assemblage’ or ‘spiritual automaton’, or what Daniel Frampton has philosophised as the ‘organic intelligence’ of the ‘filmind’ and ‘film-thinking’. The concept of ‘cinematic consciousness’ was born from a dialogue with the works of the aforementioned philosophers, and my research methodology is driven by the need to interweave these complex perspectives into a cohesive thesis on the philosophical object of cinema: understood as a historically specific form of technologically automated and mediated consciousness. It is in reference to the notion of ‘cinematic consciousness’ that I will examine how cinema operates as a machine assemblage for collective and subjective perception and consciousness, while also constituting a new political economy for capital. Filmmaking and the construction of personal identity: Federico Fellini’s 8½ Roberto Mordacci and Monica Pagliarini, Università Vita-Salute San Raffaele (Italy) Personal identity is a practical enterprise in which the subject defines a way of being oneself. The confrontation with moral reasons is an essential element in this endeavour (Korsgaard 1996). One of the fundamental requirements of any personal identity is the ability to face one’s shortcomings and failures. Hiding from view the immoral features is a hypocritical attitude which raises from a moralistic view of personal identity. Overcoming this moralism and reaching a more honest understanding of oneself is a necessary prerequisite for the building of a critically coherent and authentic morality (Foucault 1984). Fellini’s masterpiece 8½ portrays the artistic and moral crisis of a film director (Guido “Snaporaz” Anselmi, a Fellini’s alter ego). Various lies and escaping strategies keep Guido floating in a surrealistic suspension, until the whole castle of fictions (pretending to have a story to tell, pretending to be trustworthy) crumbles to the ground. Yet, the final scene is a frank admission of all his frailties and therefore a reconciliation with the persons that make up his history and identity. Each character of this film has a specific meaning and a peculiar role in Guido’s evolution from hypocrisy to reflective understanding. They all represent the instances to which Guido’s identity tries to respond without finding a way to unify himself. When the attempts to run away from responsibilities fail, Guido faces his inability to correspond to multiple expectations. The final word is an appeal to forgiveness and acceptance, a refusal of desperation. Although Fellini shows a certain self-indulgence, the work of self-clarification shows the need for a fundamental honesty. Overcoming the contradictions requires an effort toward unity which cannot even start without such a kind of confession of oneself. In the end, Fellini has made the film but, at the same time, the film has made its author, as Michel de Montaigne said of his Essais (1595). The effort to put on the scene the contradictions of one’s personality and the variety of human characters radically changes the author himself. The most celebrated virtue of Renaissance, the ancient Stoic ideal of parrhesia, is implicitly endorsed here. Being earnest makes a person critically conscious of the possibility of more authentic relationships. Fellini looks for a sincerity of the narrative which suggests not only the telling of the story of his artistic and personal difficulties. It forces the real director into the experimentation of a new filmic language, deeply entrenched with junghian suggestions and oneiric memories which break the realistic narrative line usually followed in Fellini’s previous works (Calvino 1974, Kezich 2002). An analysis of the dynamic of hypocrisy, self-indulgence, crisis and final honesty through the film will show the analogies with Montaigne’s idea of «la forme maîtresse» and with the contemporary issue of practical identity. Expressionist film: imaginary space and cinematic transformation Isa Murdock-Hinrichs, University of California, San Diego (USA) Academic scholarship, ranging from Lotte Eisner to Barry Salt, has articulated significant differences in terms of its definition of Expressionism in Weimar cinema. My paper identifies the legitimacy of these definitions and articulates the precarious role of Expressionism in the Weimar Republic as revolutionary art form and later as systematically integrated “high art.” Examining the way in which Expressionist painting in cinema has re-configured cinematic and imaginary space, I am asserting that Expressionist film reveals how Germany has imagined (and re-imagined) itself as a nation and distinct culture through participating in shifting and simultaneous space and spatial representations. On a formal level, I suggest that Expressionist set designs and film backgrounds fragment cinematic space and undercut illusions of three-dimensional space. Performances in these Expressionist films articulate a similar disruption of public and private space. These portrayals, convey less of ideas and conventions associated with Expressionists, but seem to resemble the cynical representations attributed to the works of the New Objectivity (Neue Sachlichkeit) movement. In this manner these Expressionist films clearly re-shape spatial and categorical systems of differentiation, questioning implicitly social and cultural inequalities in Weimar. I examine, in addition, how Joe May’s The Indian Tomb, Fritz Lang’s Destiny and The Spiders, and Paul Leni’s Waxwork suggest that representations of “Orientals” signify an imaginary space that in the early stages of the Weimar Republic seems to mirror less Edward Said’s concept of a relationship between Western Europeans and “Orientals” but rather indicate cinematic and cultural self-reflexivity. In doing so, “oriental” motifs in Weimar cinema serve as a vehicle to present an alternate space to the rational space of Western European thinking, ultimately conveying Germany’s anxiety of modernity. Semiotics of opening credits Dr Amir Ali Nojoumian, Shahid Beheshti University (Iran) Opening Credits is probably the closest moment in the encounter between the verbal and visual languages in a feature film. One of the major functions of opening credits is to introduce and present the signifying system of the film in the most concise form. Therefore, opening credits is the ‘threshold’ to enter the main text. This paper is an attempt to consider the following questions: 1) What are the various semiotic functions of opening credits? 2) Can the language system of opening credits be distinctively different from the main text (film)? If so, what is the significance of this intertextual structure? 3) Opening credit is an example of “the paratext” that lies next to and relates to the main text through the title, the list of the contributors, rhetorical features, and letters (typography). In other words, an opening credit is a “minor text” next to a “major one” which is paradoxically both independent and dependent. What is the signifying relation between this paratext and the text from a generic or structural perspective and what signs are the distinguishing factors between these two texts? 4) Opening credits is at the same time inside and outside the text: It remains always at the “threshold” of the text. What kind of state is this state of “being at the threshold”? Film, metaphor, and the reality of time Prof Kristóf Nyíri, Budapest University of Technology and Economics (Hungary) 2008 marks the hundred-year anniversary of both McTaggart's essay on the unreality of time, and Minkowski's famous lecture introducing the notion of a unified space-time. Both McTaggart and Minkowski doubt the aptness of the common-sense metaphors of the "passage" of time, a doubt that has become almost paradigmatic in contemporary mainstream philosophy and science. As physicist Julian Barbour puts it, time does not really flow, it is the brain that "plays a movie" for us: "the brain in any instant always contains, as it were, several stills of a movie. … when we think we are seeing actual motion, the brain is interpreting all the simultaneously encoded images and, so to speak, playing them as a movie." Now although, as neurophysiology tells us, the brain does indeed construct a movie for us, this cannot count against the reality of time: the movie we see is not illusionistic, although it is edited, so as to make sense of the world before our eyes. The planned paper will take its point of departure from a non-conventionalist philosophy of pictures (images represent by resembling reality), go on to the issue of moving images (images happening in time) as full-fledged images in contrast to static ones, and then tap the resources of conceptual metaphor theory. Time, in a way, is directly experienced, but it is not directly conceptualized: the notion of time is articulated via images and metaphors of spatial movement, metaphors lead to analogies, analogies lead to the postulating of theoretical entities. Veridical images lead through inevitable metaphors to what is the common-sense idea of becoming and the flow of time; philosophy should defend, rather than explain away, this idea, in the spirit of C. D. Broad, rather than, say, J. J. C. Smart. Now a philosophical defense of the reality of time – recall the "movie" metaphor – might fruitfully draw on film theory, namely the realist tradition in film theory. We can say, with Panofsky, that "the medium of the movies is physical reality as such", and also, more specifically, with Bazin, that "cinema is objectivity in time… …. Now, for the first time, the image of things is likewise the image of their duration." And we can say, with Currie, that "there is no illusion of movement in cinema; there is real movement, really perceived… … film does, or can, represent space and time realistically". Again – if our brain plays a movie for us, we have no reason to believe that the world shown by that movie is illusory. ‘Hit like a bullet’, or cut with a knife? Time, affect and technique in haptic cinema Dr Mark Paterson, University of Exeter (UK) Walter Benjamin famously wrote of the viewer being “hit like a bullet”, the cinematic experience having a tactile – or haptic – quality through certain editing techniques. Examining the process of editing, we consider film not as text, then, but as a series of techniques for producing sensuous-aesthetic experience. Furthermore, the evocation of a range of affective and emotional responses, while structured through a variety of editing techniques producing sensorial conjunctions of the visual and the non-visual, including music, is obviously central to actual cinematic experience. The restructuring of cinematic time, the play with foreshadowings and revealing of memory, and the mechanics of collective and individual affective responses lead to a reconsideration of the role of editing. Editing as a process that reconstitutes time and movement, that plays with percepts and affects, is not just a consideration of the meaning effects of juxtaposition or collage, but our responses to sudden cuts and jumps in the ‘body’ of the film. Departing from the qualitative semiotic approach of Deleuze’s “time image”, and expanding on Sobchack’s predominantly phenomenological “cinaesthetic subject”, we follow Benjamin’s observation in ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction’ concerning the visceral effects of surrealist and dadaist collage in film, to ask: in what sense is editing ‘haptic’? How does it ‘touch’ us when film touches itself? What aesthetic experiences are on offer when considering the thematic montage techniques of Eisenstein, the rapid machine- gun editing of the MTV aesthetic, or the more studied, emotional draw of new Asian cinema such as Ki-duk Kim? What other affects are spliced into the cut of the edit? The matter of the invisible: envisioning a body that breathes in von Trier’s Breaking the Waves Davina Quinlivan, King’s College London (UK) In his book Audio-Vision, Michel Chion remarks several times upon the sound of breathing, foregrounding liminal aural spaces that would otherwise be perceived as ‘silent’ instances occurring on the audio-track. Chion also extends his address of breath to the sonic interpretation of the filmed body on screen where its particular representation in The Elephant Man serves as a ‘sort of narrative between the protagonist’s suffering bodily machinery and the film’s translation of industry’. Yet, while Chion complicates theorization of what is heard and not seen, one might question further still the role breath plays in our perception of film. Offering a way in which to theorize breathing significantly beyond its purely biological function, my argument develops an interdisciplinary approach that is especially informed by the philosophy of Luce Irigaray. For Irigaray, breathing is much more than a biological process, it is part of a corporeal subjectivity, an aspect of embodiment that is aligned with the senses, while also remaining distinct. While forming an Irigarayan perspective on breath in the cinema, the paper also builds upon current analyses of embodiment and phenomenological film theory, drawing on recent models of sensuous theory most notably offered through the work of Laura U. Marks and Vivian Sobchack. Through engagement with the theories of Irigaray, Marks and Sobchack, my consideration of breathing leads to the cinema of Lars von Trier, taking concerns of the body and its impression of materiality in the cinema one stage further by thinking through the immaterial, as well as the material, that the act of respiration embodies: a physical process that is invisible yet also partially visible. In dialogue with the philosophy of Irigaray, my paper explores breathing in Breaking the Waves as a new form of embodied subjectivity, an interior consciousness created through the sound/image that marks a space of discreet intimacy between viewer and film. Situating breathing within a cinematic frame of subjectivity, von Trier’s use of sync sound in Breaking the Waves affords a place for breath that is rarely registered in film. I engage not only with the sound of breathing as a vocal ellipsis, but also with what surfaces through these ‘pockets’ of expression that might also relate to the film’s realist aesthetic and its envisioning of trauma. In this respect, I forge links between the indelible instances of physical, emotional expression in the diegesis and the literally responsive, as well as symbolically resuscitated, breath of the viewer. Through the cinema of von Trier, I question what it at stake when the presence of breath interrupts, fragments and even reconfigures our identification with on-screen subjectivity. This relates specifically to the structuring of an embodied, breathing corporeality in Breaking the Waves. The Irigarayan implications of such bodily parallels and differences encourage an ethical approach to the embodied film experience that both resists and is compelled by the other’s call to being, a declaration of corporeal subjectivity that speaks to the breathing body of the viewer. The human face: the ethical dimension of the cinematic image Orna Raviv, Tel Aviv University (Israel) This paper examines the ethical dimension of cinema in the context of an encounter between cinematic theory and the philosophy of Emmanuel Levinas. I will focus on how the cinematic treatment of the close-up has a unique value for the understanding of Levinas’s position, and at the same time how Levinas’s ethical notion of the face can illuminate the meaning of the cinematic close-up. For Levinas, the human face is the epiphany of the Other’s Otherness. It is not subjected to control or recognition by the observer, and remains eternally unknown. The face embodies the possibility of transcendence and, as such, it opens for Levinas the realm of the ethical. But, how can we talk about the face without turning it into an object of thought, a concept? Whereas the concept of the face is clearly central for Levinas, this question nevertheless remains without a concrete answer. In this paper, I wish to examine the tension between the phenomenological and transcendent aspect of the face by considering the appearance of the face on the screen, and especially by placing it in the aesthetical framework of the cinematic discourse about the close-up. In this context, I find the work of Gilles Deleuze and, in particular, his discussion of the close-up as an affective image to be illuminating. While framing the face as a field of tensions (rather than a self-sufficient object), Deleuze takes us a step closer toward the Levinasian question and yet, at the same time, allows us to rethink the place of the ethical. By reading Levinas’s concept of the face together with and against Deleuze’s discussion of the cinematic close-up as an affective image, I will explore how cinema can provide a concrete face-to-face encounter, one in which Otherness shows itself without being objectified. I will show how this interface enables the appearance of the ethical relation to the Other in a way that is different from real life or everyday experience. Finally, I shall exemplify these themes through a specific case study: an analysis of the face-to-face encounter between Captain Benjamin L. Willard (Martin Sheen) and Colonel Walter E. Kurtz (Marlon Brando) in one of the most famous scenes in Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now. Eyes Wide Shut: biological determinism and the tragic fate of the Nietzschean subject Dr Adrian Page, London Metropolitan University (UK) Nietzsche's view of evolution was that we should, perhaps, not transcend our natural impulses by attempting to reach a 'higher' stage of human life but instead surrender to our bodily impulses in an orgy of Dionysian excess.Kubrick's film's origin in Schnitzler's short story means that Kubrick is also dealing with the influence of Nietzsche on Schnitzler. Bill is obviously tempted to engage in this Dionysian approach to life but is deterred and returns to his marriage bed penitent and willing to be reconciled to his wife.In many ways this is the classic image of the timid man influenced by Christianity that Nietzsche so despised, but Bill has also seen the savagery which accompanies the world of the purely natural. In Schnitzler's story, this is represented in the account of the woman mocking her lover's self- sacrifice for her sake for the pure irrationality of the gesture. This is an example of the logic of biological determinism as it is sometimes argued to develop through evolution: the waste of genes for a sentimental reason. For Bill, however, the experience of surrendering to the physical impulses of the bodily Self, leads only to a somewhat sad return to normality. As Nietzsche said in /The Will to Power/, 'we must experience nihilism before we can find out what power values really had '. As Nietzsche argued later in life, free will, the famous will to power, could not be adopted spontaneously The ability to 'become that thou art', was a rare achievement. The film shows a Dionysian ceremony with the awe-inspiring sound of the dithyramb as the surrender to the sexual impulse also spells the irrational and sudden danger that accompanies the descent into the Dionysian world. Nietzsche's theory of Tragedy echoes throughout this scene. Yet to abandon oneself to the Dionysian influences also risked a great deal : the experience of becoming 'beyond terror and pity ' was an almost superhuman feat. The film therefore demonstrates an encounter with the bodily determinism reminiscent of stoicism and a discovery of a modus vivendi based on compatibilism. There is a recognition of Bill's part that we are determined yet that we can live in such a way that we nonetheless experience our decisions as willed. PF Strawson's work on determinism illustrates how the theory would destroy all relationships between people and that the only response is to form a relationship in defiance of the nihilistic implications. In this way the film not only follows a philosophical thesis but also dramatises its consequences so that it constructs a rhetorical case for its final conclusion based on the viewer's own emotional involvement in the story. Phenomenology and Film: Gaston Bachelard’s Poetics of Space and Othello on Screen Dr. Eleni Pilla, University of Cyprus (Cyprus) This paper derives from my completed interdisciplinary PhD on The Renegotiation of Space in Screen Versions of Othello which develops a methodology of spatial reading and employs theories of space developed outside the realm of English Studies to interpret screen adaptations of Shakespearean plays. The paper utilizes Gaston Bachelard’s The Poetics of Space: The Classic Look at How We Experience Intimate Places in order to demonstrate that three screen versions of Shakespeare’s well-known domestic tragedy of Othello as directed by Orson Welles (1952), Oliver Parker (1995) and Geoffrey Sax/ Andrew Davies (2001) display a negative poetics of domestic space. The discussion will centre on the configuration of the bedroom in the three films and how this depiction differs from the Bachelardian vision of space whereby positive values are attached to domestic space. Throughout the analysis there will be references to Shakespeare’s play and the film genre of the respective screen version of Othello. The investigation of the representation of intimate space is particularly interesting in light of how it coincides with the cinematic techniques and conventions of the different genres that the three films employ such as: film noir, erotic thriller and television drama. Welles’s Othello uses chiaroscuro in the depiction of the marital couple in the bedroom and the bedroom is portrayed as a space of imprisonment and death throughout the film. Parker’s erotic thriller inserts scenes of the couple making love and sequences of Desdemona’s supposed infidelity with Cassio in the bedroom not found in Shakespeare’s play in order to construct a narrative of excessive passion. Davies’ updating of Shakespeare’s play into a police drama makes Othello the first black commissioner of the Metropolitan police and in addition to depicting the interracial love of John Othello (Othello) and Dessie Brabant (Desdemona) in their bedroom, the film also incorporates the domestic space of Billy Coates who is murdered in his home by racist police officers. This interpolation of Billy Coates has contemporary relevance because it alludes to the racist killing of Stephen Lawrence in Feltham in 1993. A wealth of material from my archival research at the BFI will be invoked in the presentation such as: production notes, interviews, private correspondence with directors and an unpublished script of the Sax/ Davies Othello. The paper concludes with possible reasons as to why the filmmakers may have chosen to give this mode of representation of intimate space. The presentation by establishing a dialogue between phenomenology, Shakespeare and film, highlights the potentialities which open up through the cross-fertilisation of disciplines. Image and emancipation, between the political and the cinematic in the work of Jacques Rancière Manuel Ramos, Goldsmiths, University of London (UK) The work of French philosopher Jacques Rancière is a paradigmatic case of the contemporary conjunction between film theory and philosophy. This paper identifies the conceptual devices that interrelate the political and the cinematic in his corpus using as an instance the cinema of the Medvedkine Group. Rancière conceives his theoretical work on cinema as a contact zone between film and political theory. It is a strategy not to translate or explain one field with the other, but rather to create a common ground where film and politics have reciprocal effects. I consider the possibilities offered by this methodology to open up a political and interdisciplinary discussion. This paper focuses on the question “How is the sensible distributed?” and its relevance, according to Rancière, for political and film theory. I analyze his concept of distribution and its role on how Rancière rethinks the notions of emancipation and image. Both notions are understood as operations reconfiguring the sensible and therefore as processes capable of invalidating dominant distributions. The Medvedkine Group provides this paper with an exemplar practice of cinema as transgression. I explore the consequences of a redistributing transgression for the redefinition of political cinema and the aesthetics of the political. Identification required: reclaiming spectatorial engagement from philosophers Dr Allen H Redmon, University of Arkansas at Monticello (USA) The concept of identification has endured one of the more unfortunate experiences of any philosophical term in film studies. Pushed to its logical and utilitarian extremes by the likes of Noel Carroll, Murray Smith, and Gregory Currie, among others, the term Hugo Munsterberg introduces in his seminal work The Photoplay (1916) to describe the unique connection enjoyed by spectators and filmic characters has become little more than the starting point for the pursuit of new descriptors. Carroll (2007), for instance, contends in a recent book chapter on emotional relationships between spectators and characters that his notion of solidarity, which consists of sympathy for a protagonist plus antipathy for an antagonist, best describes the relational bonds films create. Solidarity tolerates if not depends on the very asymmetries Carroll uses to discount the leading versions of identification and it operates at a more general emotive level than identification can accept. For these reasons, Carroll concludes philosophers would do well to abandon discussion of identification entirely. As compelling as Carroll’s demolition of the notion of identification and discussion of his own counter term are, his suggestion to eliminate identification from the philosophical lexicon creates a number of disturbing consequences. For one, the term has a longstanding, albeit befuddled, existence beginning with the discourses of Plato and especially Aristotle in antiquity and more recently Munsterberg. A second result follows the first. By creating new terms to account for the emotive affect of film, philosophers abandon too quickly the historical depth a reconstituted notion of identification would have, which, among other things, overly limits the scope of the discussion to but one aspect of an otherwise robust historical term. Finally, philosophers create unnecessary distance between mainstream and philosophical discussions when the latter denies the expediency of the terms popular and philosophical discussions use to describe the same phenomenon. In order to avoid these unnecessary shortcomings, my paper works to articulate a notion of identification connected to the historical uses of the term but resistant to the shortcomings with which Carroll and others burdened it. I achieve this definition by first noting the strengths of the existing objections and counter-proposals to identification. I then knot the most useful aspects of these divergent projects into a one coherent portrait framed by the critical insights of Rene Girard’s Mimetic Theory in order to name both the initial impulse to identify and explain the popular appeal of cinematic identification. I contend, ultimately, that once recognized, the sorts of identification described in this paper provides spectators the opportunity to imitate some model without suffering the violence such imitation creates in real life. Ruizian bricolage as philosophical approximation Dr Alejandra Rodriguez-Remedi At last year’s RomeFilmFest, the Chilean filmmaker Raúl Ruiz declared himself surprised to be receiving a Masters of Cinema award - a distinction previously bestowed by the capital’s critics on luminaries such as Hitchcock, Scorsese and Polanski. Ruiz went on to avow that he sees himself as an artisan expert in bricolage rather than as an auteur of film masterpieces. For Ruiz, the prize was more an homage to bricolage than to cinema itself. This paper will argue that Ruiz’s conceptualisation of bricolage as filming method constitutes a radical tool for approximating contemporary filmmaking’s facilitation of a polysemia of possibilities for new images of the world. Conscious of the hegemonic and counter-hegemonic interactive potential of cinema, Ruiz here adopts a critical position with political implications. His hypothesis: that cinema reflects societies’ thought processes; that this ars combinatoria par excellence (“the totality of all the arts connected by poetry”) is essentially analytic and documentary as it holds a “deforming mirror” up to normally elusive behavioural mechanisms. To stimulate debate about Ruizian bricolage’s contribution to the constitution of plural subjectivities in the context of industrial filmmaking norms, the paper will draw on the work of contemporary thinkers (Badiou, Rancière, Mouffe) as well as Ruiz’s own recent audiovisual production and his reflection on diverse philosophers (Llull, Bruno, Spinoza, Whitehead, Wittgenstein, Croce, etc) in the first two volumes of his Poetics of Cinema. Monstrosity philosophy in Woody Allen’s Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989), and Fred Zinnemann’s A Man for All Seasons (1966) Prof Dennis Rothermel, California State University, Chico (USA) Woody Allen’s Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989), and Fred Zinneman’s A Man for All Seasons (1966) present the story of a philosopher confronting monstrosity without triumphing over it, particularly in the characterizations of Louis Levy and Sir Thomas More. Ralph Waldo Emerson advises that the true art in living life consists in learning to skate well on the impenetrable surfaces that our world puts upon us. Even monstrous conditions can be the occasion for creative flight. The philosopher is inspired by a freely imaginative vision of the world as different from how it is. This depicts a kind of perfectionism, just as that term derives from an indefinable conceptual gesture – Whim. The lessons discovered in encounter with monstrosity bear an importance independent of their origins in particular personality. In the dramatic depiction, there is greater honesty in the presentation of the lessons if the connection with a perfectly pleasing heroic character is eschewed. Louis Levy’s suicide does not contradict how he explains what keeps us in life. More’s perfectionism of soul will not be dependent upon his catholic faith. The divergent tales of the philosopher in a world of monstrosity fit into contrasting cinematic constructions in these two films. Allen’s bleeding commentative elements into the diegesis and his intertwined metaphors of vision and cinema for the soul construct a viewed world tingling in expectation of the presence and purpose of divinity. Zinnemann’s unpronounced, serene style and seamless interleaving of significant imagery into the functional narrative offers nothing in the world depicted other than the people who fill it with worry and anguish. Stanley Cavell explains how a reading of a film will have the same intense “plain you and me” that Emerson detects as common in friendship and the encounter with great art. For Cavell, this means explorations that are unapologetically personal discoveries, yet without capitulation to the common expectation of aesthetic subjectivism. If the discoveries are sufficiently earnest, unswerving and intense, one aspires to persevere all the way through to the end of a completed comprehension. The bold declaration – made by Cavell and Deleuze both – that, in some difficult to explicate but very important way, cinema is philosophy endures as a radical standpoint within the growing panoply of philosophical treatments of the medium. This declaration stands in contrast to: understanding cinema as capable of exemplification of topics, concepts, issues, and even arguments that find currency in established philosophical discourse; understanding important philosophical content as skimmed off the surface of cinema or extracted pure by itself from the mixture; directing philosophy’s methodologies of analysis, phenomenology, or cognitivism towards the cinema; and finding demonstration in cinema of the favored ploy of philosophical thought experiments. In the delicate and very difficult composition of succinct linguistic capture of the visual and temporal aesthetic fabric of meaning and content in the art of cinema, saying what is not said but shown lies at the heart of inspired commentary. The essential visual composition of significance in cinema will in the same way make it possible to understand what has to be understood as a complicating issue regarding intention. Mozart thought musically, and filmmakers think cinematically. The context of monstrosity facilitates comprehending living life philosophizing, as well as comprehending cinema philosophically through to the end, not so much for its reconciliation with the heroization of moral ideals but with the grappling with intransigent contingency. Curating canons: philosophical implications of film archiving Patrick Russell, Senior Curator (Non-Fiction), British Film Institute National Archive (UK) This presentation will explore certain theoretical issues raised by differing professional practices applied to moving image heritage. The presentation will not, itself, be a contribution to scholarly philosophy. Rather it will consist of observations by a film archivist of questions raised by archiving, in the hope that philosophers can shed new light on them. I will argue that film archivists and film historians have evolved slightly dissimilar ‘maps’ of film history. That of the historians is principally the product of academic discourse informed by research and teaching. That of the archivists is principally the product of physical interactions with the collections they manage and interpret (and with their users, many of them not film historians). In effect, then, each profession possesses a different communal canon, both with merits the other lacks, both resting partly on unexamined assumptions. These points will be illustrated using a case study: the presence of British Documentary within ‘standard’ histories of International Documentary and British Cinema. These neglect significant bodies of work physically present in archives. Some twenty-five years of factual film production up to 1929 has received scant attention. The existence of other traditions thriving at the same time as the British Documentary Movement in the 1930s is usually ignored. And virtually no serious attention is given to the continuation, for some three decades after World War Two, of film-making strongly rooted in the 1930s Movement. Many hundreds of such works are preserved in the BFI National Archive’s collection. I will further examine the likely impact of mass-digitisation and online availability of archive collections. They will greatly ease access to raw materials for canon revision. However, I will argue that they leave many cultural problems of archiving intact. There will remain much unfinished archival business in the analogue domain. Moreover, online availability doesn’t automatically prompt canon modification. This cluster of issues can fruitfully be examined from two philosophical perspectives. First, they raise large themes such as: the ontological and epistemological status of canons; rival aesthetics of documentary; archival ethics. More modestly, but perhaps more productively, analytical philosophy’s methodology can selectively be applied to clarify the issues involved. Archivists and academics might use logical tools to expose one another’s, and their own, basic assumptions then derive unexpected logical consequences for canon-formation. Moreover, there is an urgent necessity that the ambiguous meaning of the word ‘digitisation’ (now a buzz-word among archives’ funders as well as in modern culture generally) be subjected to analysis. The suppressed assumption that this refers to a single definable technical process is false. It follows that its cultural consequences will be more complex than usually suspected. Film analysis and film philosophy Philipp Schmerheim, Universiteit van Amsterdam (Netherland) There is a need for more thorough reflection on the role of film analysis for film- philosophical inquiries. How exactly should one talk and write about films from a philosophical perspective? How does a film scholar best involve philosophical issues? Is it sufficient to analyse a film from a philosophical perspective just as one would analyse any other film, or does film-philosophical analysis require the application of special methods of analysis? In particular, film philosophers must pay more attention to the methods of analysis they apply to films. Philosophers often are not familiar with established analytic approaches in film studies, and a number of film philosophers simply seem to adapt the toolkit of literature scholars. In this respect, Daniel Frampton is right in calling for more attention to ‘cinematic’ aspects in film criticism. Unfortunately, Frampton’s own ‘filmosophical’ approach does not deliver an attractive alternative route. His film analyses remain too vague and imprecise. For a proper philosophical analysis of film, two key components need to be addressed: first, methods of film-philosophical analysis must take into account the medium-specific peculiarities of the film medium – a film is, after all, not literature by other means. Second, film analysis is not film criticism. Consequently, analysis should proceed systematically and comprehensively, i.e. they need to take into account the whole film. A proper film- philosophical analysis should pay attention to a film’s peculiarly complex structure and interplay between audiovisual features, narrative as well as stylistic conventions, reception conditions and economic necessities – all of which usually are carefully orchestrated by filmmakers. This complex melange calls for specifically developed analytic methods, which are already available in film studies. In this presentation I introduce the tools of systematic film analysis as an example for the application of analytic methods in film-philosophical research. Systematic film analysis is a well-established quantitative-qualitative approach developed by German film scholar Helmut Korte, which is particularly useful for visualizing interrelations between stylistic and narrational features of a given film. The visualisations allow, for instance, tracking the use of specific camera movements, or interrelations between sound and image track. Using Peter Weir’s The Truman Show (1998) as an example, I examine the usefulness of such tools for philosophical investigations into film. Cavell and the film philosophy of entertainment Herbert Schwaab, Ruhr-University Bochum (Germany) This paper regards the film philosophical work of Stanley Cavell, on which this contribution is based, mainly as a film philosophy of entertainment. In Pursuits of Happiness and Contesting Tears, his studies of the 1930s and 1940s Hollywood romantic comedy and melodrama, Cavell tries to establish a relation between his philosophical interest in films and the pleasure derived from them. Trained in ordinary language philosophy, Cavell explores ways to find words for the experience of film, encouraging readers to communicate the pleasures found in them. It is a theory of cinematic experience which foregrounds the proximity between the significance of film and the everydayness of popular culture. Cavell refers to transgressive moments in melodramas and comedies such as Stella Dallas and The Awful Truth which stimulate the imagination of their viewers and invite philosophical thoughts on the conditions of our existence. The characters address explicitly their viewers, as if they were leaving the screen, and comment on the conditions of film viewing and the nature of cinematic experience. This paper points to the transgressiveness of popular cinema as an important concept of film philosophy that remains to be explored. As is shown in the works of Cavell, popular films philosophize in their own terms. The paper will apply this notion on two different objects of study. In a first step it will be shown that the focus on popular cinema and the interest in the experience of film stand in sharp contrast to the film philosophy of Gilles Deleuze. This contrast will be worked out in a reading of the films of Alain Resnais which contests the readings by Gilles Deleuze in L’image temps. Using concepts by Cavell, the films are read as philosophical explorations of the popular and of entertainment. Beginning with Muriel, Resnais is continuously intensifying his interest in popular culture, creating highly entertaining, imaginative and transgressive works like Providence, Mon Oncle, On Connaît la Chanson. Resnais himself refers to his most recent film Public Fears in Private Places as owing much to television and its forms of entertainment. These contributions of Resnais to the study of the popular can best be understood when they are read along the lines of Cavell’s film philosophy. In a second step, this paper will transfer notions of Cavell’s film philosophy to the study of popular cinema of the 1990s and the 2000s, taking as an example the comedies by Peter and Bobby Farrelly. Reading films such as Stuck on You or King Pin within the frameworks of Cavell’s work will help to understand the intensive pleasure they give their viewers. Mostly disregarded as ‘gross-out comedies’, they will be read as philosophical contributions to our understanding of films and of human nature. The transgressive effect of being extremely entertained by the films becomes a transforming experience that allows for new perspectives on the world. Picnolepsis: cinematic blinking, immediacy and the absence of time Dr Niall Scott, University of Central Lancashire (UK) In this paper I wish to explore the influence of cinema on the removal of time and how this provides an opportunity to reframe the human as politically static. Paul Virillio (1991) in the Aesthetics of Disappearance introduces the notion of picnolepsis- taken from the phenomenon of childhood absence epilepsy- a form of petit mal, and defines it as ‘the absence of the unawareness of missing things’. I will argue that this is a central component of the cinematic experience, an experience where time goes missing without one’s awareness of it having disappeared. The relationship between absence and presence has resonances with Deleuze’s characterisation of Bachelard’s mutual images, where an indiscernible exchange between the virtual and the real and the past and present takes place (Delueze, G. 1989). Not only does this happen in the mechanics of the stroboscopic effect of the projection, but also in the totality of the cinematic event. There is an opportunity here where in darkness of the unaware moment, a narrative can be added to human experience such that one’s experience appears seamless. Not only any narrative, but also the idea that time has gone missing, so that one no longer experiences past and future, but only the immediate When these narratives are authored from outside, imposed on oneself by another, I eventually aim to show that this has a radical effect on the identity and the capacity for a political independence of the self. The motif of hands in Jean-Luc Godard’s Histoire(s) du cinema Sheena Scott, University College London (UK) Hands which cover the face, hands over someone’s mouth, someone’s ears, a hand which reaches for another, a hand caressing someone’s back, someone’s face, a hand holding a rifle, a gun, a knife, a hand drawing a heart on a wall, a hand cutting a woman’s eye, a hand holding a camera… The motif of hands is recurrent in Jean-Luc Godard’s Histoire(s) du cinéma. This paper explores in which way hands, and thus by extension the sense of touch, take part in the making and in the experience of cinema. However, the cinema first appeals to our eyes and our ears as it is made of images and sound. Touch is one of the senses, a priori, which is not part of the experience of the cinema. Hands, though, are very much part of the cinema: they have a predominant part onscreen as well as off screen. My paper will first consider the way Histoire(s) du cinéma compares the motif of hands with the motif of eyes. I will secondly look at how Histoire(s) du cinéma connects the motif of the hand to emotions and contact in cinema. As Godard observes himself , ‘a film is only a companion through thought. One must go to it and go through a machine.’ In the final part of this paper, I will examine the way Histoire(s) also explores the involvement of hands in cinema compared to other art forms. As Godard points out, ‘books are all around us, we can touch them’. Hands thus stand for creativity when we think with our hands. However, hands also signify labour. The motif of the hand is only visual, and sometimes implied in the words or images in Histoire(s). The sound that hands can make is only heard once in all the episodes, in 2B applause can be heard. This paper will thus focus on the image of hands, and its oral or written reference. The motif of hands in Histoire(s) du cinéma shows how the hand, and thus the sense of touch, affects the cinema and our experience of it. The conquest of film: anarchism, propaganda and transvaluative film production Ariel Sheen, South Broward High School (USA) Hollywood films consistently endorse anti-authoritarian philosophies within their plots: despite pressure from the department a teacher defies a schools' rules and traditions to get noticeable learning gains from her students, a person is wrongly sent to jail and the cruelty of the guards is contrasted with the virtues of the incarcerated, a lawyer who discovers their client has been harming a community for decades decides to share this evidence with the public. Such narratives have a particular goal: they wish not only to resolve the conflict within the various characters but also to exempt from criticism the entirety of the super structure from which such conflict emerges and propagate the idea that positively reforming tendencies are always expressing themselves within and thus not radical change is needed. By particularizing the failures of social institutions and turning endemic social maladies into exceptional circumstances that can be overcome if only a person with the right balance of defiance and deference to authority is inserted into the dysfunctional dynamics, Hollywood films propound a profound conservatism even when seeming to pose a different stance. A film containing characters espousing a systematic critique of such failings of American socioeconomic institutions with a concomitant affirmation of an alternative is significantly absent in the recent history of American film. Characters that should be invested with such analysis and alternatives due to the explicit politicization of their identity are currently turned into benign or malignant caricatures. The distortion of the historical projects of various political philosophies and their adherents in mass-market films traces it's origins to anti-Communist movies. The purposes of such films were to cryptically and overtly indoctrinate the populace against communism and thus assist in the delegitimization of viable public discourses for addressing institutional grievances. While film reels depicting the evilness of Communists were sent out to theaters across the country for people to watch, the House Un-American Activities Committees worked to purge the Communist influence. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union and the liberalization of their economy a new domestic political enemy has emerged with a different political philosophy. This new enemy requires that the tropes informing the previous depiction of Communists as chain-smoking, beady eyed enemies to civilization that are instructed by Moscow are unable to be maintained given the particular ideology of this new antagonist and the geopolitical circumstances. As anarchism gains ascendancy within anti globalization circles it has taken the space left by the communists for opprobrium in cinema. Hollywood films made since the watershed 1999 anti-WTO riots in Seattle has spotlighted this new wave of American anarchist-inspired anti- capitalist activism. Since this time, American films with characters claiming an anarchist social philosophy or films containing quasi-anarchists illustrate their choice of political intervention with an investment of hegemonic rather than revolutionary interest. The tropes of these films show three potential roles and modes of action for contemporary anarchism: either it is depicted as a synonym for terrorism and a cause for hysteria such as in the film xXx, it is shown to be the domain of a debilitating adolescence in films such as SLC Punk and The Anarchist Cookbook and in the films V for Vendetta and Fight Club it is an quixotic, insurrectionary pseudo-philosophy. However, while some of the depictions and corresponding criticisms of the various American social movements that claim anarchist inspiration contained within these films are valid - the essentialist framing of anarchism as a stillborn approach to social change deracinates potentially viable discourse and praxis for institutional change and encourages reactionary attitudes in viewers uninformed to it’s rich philosophy and history. Comparing these tropes with their relationship to both social justice movements and anarchist/anarcho-syndicalist philosophy further illustrates these films facile character. An effort to counter this mode of spectacular depiction of anarchists requires not only vigilance on the part of cultural critics in general and anarchists in specific, but a distinctly anarchist film aesthetic. Such an aesthetic could be based upon, but not limited to, anarchist and Situationist writing and practice. Presupposing that transvaluative film production is possible within a capitalist society, such an aesthetic would combine destructive and creative forces into an energy harvested by the audience and has the potential to inculcate practices of anarchistic solidarity.While the potentials for such an aesthetic are broad, there are specific elements that would be in a film that could be defined as encouraging anarchism, just as films such as The Fountainhead could be defined as supporting capitalism. Metaphysics and the feature screenplay Sarah Simpson, Macquarie University (Australia) The debate concerning whether film can constitute a legitimate form of philosophy is rife. However, the feature screenplay’s specific, integral role in the creation of philosophical effects in film is frequently overlooked. This paper argues that the feature screenplay can and has functioned as genuine philosophy, in the sense which Stephen Mulhall credits to film. As such, the screenplay can systematically, thoroughly reflect upon and assess a variety of concepts, issues and arguments in a process analogous to those adopted by philosophers. Prolific screenwriter Jean-Claude Carrière asserts that the screenplay is founded upon a requisite metamorphosis into its final form- the completed film. The screenplay is not designed for direct audience consumption, but rather succeeds via its disappearance once the film is created. Therefore, the screenplay is a uniquely metaphysical, intangible text. The screenplay occupies a conceptual and imaginative realm, interstitial space between story and film, rendering it an apt conduit for philosophical conceptualisation and analysis. Jerry Goodenough conceives of three central models for the potential, direct relationships between film and philosophy: 1) Film as illustration of pre-existing philosophical concepts and arguments, 2) Film ‘about’ philosophy (for example, films concerning actual philosophers, like Derek Jarman’s 1993 film Wittgenstein), 3) Film as philosophy i.e. film ‘doing’ hence being philosophy. This paper discusses and demonstrates how the feature screenplay can similarly accord with the first and third models. The paper conducts case studies of feature screenplays to compare and contrast the methods screenwriters have employed to illustrate or reaffirm pre-existing philosophical thought with those adopted by screenwriters conducting original philosophy. What unique capacities and mechanisms (for instance specialised tools for creating structure, narrative, character, dialogue, setting and tone) does the screenplay medium possess to engage in both philosophical illustration and sophisticated investigation/argumentation? Specifically, this paper focuses upon the screenplay’s connections with metaphysics. Illustrations of pre-existing metaphysical issues are often utilised in feature screenplays. Examples include existentialist metaphysics’ pervasion of film noir screenwriting and the ‘cyberpunk’ science fiction screenplay’s common employment of Plato’s Cave allegory to explore fallibilities of human perception and the notion of mind-independent reality. However, this paper explores not only how such metaphysical thought has influenced and driven feature screenplays, but additionally how the screenplay has informed metaphysics by making original contributions to key metaphysical issues and debates. Furthermore, the paper considers how postmodernism’s contributions/challenges to traditional metaphysical concerns (for example, the notion of identity as social construct, and Jean Baudrillard’s conception of the ‘hyperreal’) have been incorporated into the screenplay, the latter hence exhibiting awareness of contemporary metaphysical issues. Stanley Cavell notes that legitimate philosophy requires self-questioning/reflection distinct to its discipline, which constitutes a philosophical practice itself. This paper examines how likewise the screenplay can self-reflexively consider the conditions and context of its creation, even subvert its intangible, metaphysical nature, whilst forging its philosophical views/arguments, thereby completing a thorough philosophical process. For instance, Charlie Kaufman’s 2002 screenplay Adaptation. explores several metaphysical issues, including the nature of personal identity and objectivity. However, the screenplay also incorporates a self-conscious analysis of its own creative process, which is interwoven and inextricably linked with its metaphysical investigations. Thus Kaufman also evidences philosophical self-reflection on the screenplay form and its capacities for conducting metaphysics. Filmic Paratexts: emotional objects and affective responses in the world of the film Dr Greg Singh, Buckinghamshire New University/University of Reading (UK) What constitutes the world of the film? This is a very basic question that often goes unasked beyond elementary film studies, as popular film scholarship often relegates it to subsidiary conditions of diegesis, screened-text object, and/or mise-en-scene. Whereas analytical methods involving these elements can prove productive in terms of close textual readings, forming interpretive strategies to map out meaning, they very often elide the manner in which audiences engage film on a day-to-day basis. Conversely, empirical approaches, and those approaches that utilise historical reception and economic models, such as those found in the Wisconsin School, address the practical implications of producing and consuming filmic worlds. Again useful in terms of grounding filmic objects in their industrial settings, these kinds of approaches, out of practical necessity, tend to leave out the epistemological spaces within (and sometimes for) which, we get to know the world of the film. Furthermore, from a critical practice perspective, the question is sometimes limited to patterns of narrative that exist in storytelling traditions that pre-exist film as a medium: the use of Propp, Vogler and Jung to engage production students in structural models of scriptwriting testify to this. However, rarely addressed in these applications of film analysis, an array of commodities situated just beyond the feature film itself, informing the story world, pre-interpreting it, selling it, informing it, somehow form an inseparable part of it. Referring to Gerard Genette's model of literary paratexts, I intend to discuss these peripheral elements of film (trailers, video covers, poster design, DVD commentaries and extras and sequelisation) as hypo- and hyper-textual extensions of storytelling through the medium of film. This extension of narrative is not necessarily an expansion of meaning, nor a means of negotiating interpretative gestures on the part of the spectator, but constitutes a metaliteral strategy that engages foreclosure AND plenitude of narrative at the same time. This is, fundamentally, the way that contemporary popular US film in particular is negotiated in mainstream film cultures, and is employed as a marketable commodity in its own right. These filmic paratexts are pleasurably consumable themselves, but also elaborate the world of the film as a whole, commodifying those associated processes and practices in a proliferation of the film world that moves beyond diegesis to incorporate pre- and pro-filmic entities in ironic, comic, kitsch, and sometimes deeply affective ways. This paper will seek to engage this filmic paratextuality by evaluating the differences between emotional object (e.g. desire) and affective response (e.g. pleasure), using recent examples of popular US cinema, and will draw from contemporary film phenomenology to examine the 'experience' of film in relation to this difference. It strikes me that, in this sense, the filmic paratext is remarkably similar to Derrida’s take on the Kantian notion of the parergon – supplementary or incidental objects that frame the original filmic object, being both part of and other to it. The supplement in this deconstructive framework destroys the unified, differentiated object (the hypotext), but I argue that, following Metz’s classical concept of the trucage, this is a distraction from the actual constitution of the world of the film: it always-already extended beyond named boundaries, reflecting the dialectic suspension of foreclosure and plenitude present in the object itself, and the ways we encounter it. Skepticism on film: a Cavellian reading of Alien and Blade runner Mario Slugan, Duke University (USA) In this graduate paper, I present an application of Cavell’s ideas, such as human reaction to horror and (in)human reaction to one’s doubts about the humanity of the other, to film, in particular to Blade Runner (with a brief look at Alien). I present a novel reading of the film, differing substantially from Mulhall’s readings as described in On film, drawing also from Moi’s understanding of theatralicization as presented in her book Henrik Ibsen and the Birth of Modernism. First, I introduce the problem of the other minds as told by Cavell in Claim of Reason and show how ordinary language philosophy can be applied to them in spite of them being set in not so ordinary world situations. I look at Ash’s character from Alien, as one whose humanity is questioned on the ethical grounds only to be found that he is literally not human, providing an overture to the reading of Blade Runner. In it, I explore key Cavellian concepts of acknowledgement and intervention i.e. how the problem of the other minds has mistakenly been taken for an epistemological issue instead of what it really is; a question of ethics. My main topics include; the relationship between Rachel and Deckard through which she learns how to give voice to her own passions (how to utter passionate utterances) and he how to give voice to her and single her out as a particular other; Batty’s quest for more life which isn’t motivated by becoming human but with acquiring more time to accept one’s mortality and finitude; explanation of Batty saving Deckard’s life as an act of putting a stop to thetricalization of oneself and the other and as an act of intervention; and finally, the implications of the director’s cut which suggests Deckard is a replicant – in that case it is only the replicants who intervene, not a single human does it, and Tyrell’s motto: “more human than human” becomes literally true. Deleuzean sense and Leconte’s Le Mari de la coiffeuse Dr Chris L. Smith, University of Sydney (Australia) In the preface to Logique du sens (1969) [The Logic of Sense] Gilles Deleuze suggests that, “*w+e present here a series of paradoxes which form the theory of sense. It is easy to explain why this theory is inseparable from paradoxes: sense is a nonexistent entity, and, in fact, maintains very special relations with nonsense”. The paper explores Deleuze’s complex notion of sense as articulated in Logique du sens and the one of his earliest writings, a 1954 review of Jean Hyppolite's Logic and Existence, in respect to the film Le Mari de la coiffeuse (1990) [The Hairdresser's Husband] written by Patrice Leconte and Claude Klotz, and directed by Leconte. The film provides glimpses into the life of Antoine (Jean Rochefort) and his fascination for hairdressers. It is a fascination that leads Antoine to the barbershop of Mathilde (Anna Galiena). The narrative and visual presence of the film is far from rich. We are only given ‘glimpses’ of Antoine’s life and rarely does the eye of the camera leave Mathilde’s barbershop. This narrative and cinematic simplicity paradoxically produces the most intense of affects. This paradoxical intensity is the subject matter (and point of contention) of many written critiques of Le Mari de la coiffeuse. Though there is much focus in film studies on Deleuze’s Cinéma 1 (1983) and Cinéma 2 (1985) texts, it is the contention of the present paper that tracing the concept of sense in Deleuze’s earlier works helps to articulate the complex and paradoxical intensities of films like those of Leconte. The present paper considers the critiques of Leconte’s film and the paradox itself in respect to Deleuze’s logic of sense. The expanded animated portrait: process and participation in the lightning sketch Vicky Smith, UWE (UK) With its three essential components, ‘ a single screen video projection, with soundtrack and a series of drawings’ (Goodwin, 2000) it is productive to consider Dryden Goodwin’s film Reveal (2000) as a contemporary development of the lightning sketch tradition. In the early 1900s the lightning sketch, a performance in which the artist drew an image and remarked upon its development, migrated from stage to cinema. Film made possible the incremental recording of these live to audience events resulting in what has come to be understood as early animation. Donald Crafton elaborates ‘ by depicting themselves at work on the screen engaged in their business of making magic moving drawings, the artist showed themselves imparting the anima – the breath of life’ (Crafton, 1982). The lightning sketchers are part of a tradition of artists, such as Velasquez, commenting on their profession by portraying themselves employed in their trade. Foucault uses Velasquez’ ‘Las Meninas’ to describe the role of audience in the discourse of looking. This paper develops Foucault’s theories around representation and the subject. It proposes that, through reflexive practice and by representing the process of representation itself, discursive operations are activated and that meaning is not fixed or final. In Reveal’ we see the artist’s hesitating hand holding the pencil, tracing its preliminary gestures across the blank page. The artist represents not the hand alone as source of magic but relations between hand and mind. The hand as presence offers the viewer more than one position of looking. Through participation in the artists’ decision making the audience is involved actively in consideration of its own role in making meaning. Animated film, with its evident craftsmanship, carries the potential to inspire in audiences the ‘deepest pleasure because we are confronted with a control…an objectification of our own desire for omnipotence ’ (O’ Pray, 1995). The power to control the image is fully realised by the lightning sketch because here the morphing ‘trick’ of animation is shared with us as the image materialises before our eyes. V. Sobchack (2000) identifies the liberating possibilities of morphing which, like the transformations in Reveal dramatise the process of becoming. I argue that, as embodiment itself is unstable, a portrait executed by lightning sketch is analogous to the flux of self. Reveal’s candid transaction between sitter, artist and beholder implicates the audience in its reflexive strategies allowing transformation to occur in the unending dialogue and flux of representational activity. By moving the focus of the sketch away from the hand and towards the mental plane, we are invited to understand that drawing is no mystery of materials conjured into recognisable forms, but a discipline which can be learnt. The expanded animated portrait allows drawing itself to be the subject. Form, thought and reflection are dramatised and shown as practice, a reinvigoration of artists’ representing themselves in their artwork in order to raise the status of their profession from craft to philosophy. Contemplating an absence to produce a presence: the case of Jaime, by António Reis Dr Ana Isabel Soares, Universidade do Algarve (Portugal) Portuguese filmmaker António Reis produced no more than four films, but left an oeuvre charged with poetic intensity. His first feature, Jaime (1974), is about the graphic work of a patient who lived half of his life at a mental institution in Lisbon. The film stresses the parallel between inside and outside, incarceration and freedom, sanity and insanity, while it inspects the contemplative drive of humans as they are confronted with their own limits. In this paper I intend to look into stylistic, as well as narrative features of the film, to try to understand how it produces the presence of its subject: Jaime Fernandes, a Portuguese rural worker turned mental patient, who died in 1969 in the asylum where he drew and painted using mostly ballpoint pens. The director achieves a human presence via the filming of the space of the asylum – charged with the absent figure of Jaime – as well as by showing the countryside where Jaime lived with his wife and children before agonizing as a paranoid schizophrenic at the Lisbon institution. In one of the traditional theoretical lines of documentary studies, a fundamental presupposition is that the documentarist should in no way interfere with his/her personal view on the subject portrayed; this is hardly the attitude of António Reis in Jaime and in his other films. It is my belief that a crossing between documentary film and poetry may work for the documental quality of the film, rather than against it. Superegos and eggs: repetition in Funny Games (1997, 2007) Dr David Sorfa, Liverpool John Moores University (UK) Journalistic accounts of Michael Haneke’s intentions in his two Funny Games films seem very close to Slavoj Žižek’s description of the Lacanian superego as “the cruel and insatiable agency that bombards me with impossible demands and then mocks my botched attempts to meet them” (2006, p. 80). The hapless bourgeois families in the films are in just such a position in relation to their tormenters – desperate to give them what they want (eggs?) in order to satisfy their demands but never quite able to appease them. And of course, as has become a cliché of writing about the films, it is the audience that is also similarly tortured in both versions. Neither the families nor the cinema audiences can quite live up to the expectations of the boys in white or Haneke himself (are we staying in the cinema or are we leaving? Which is the correct response?). In this paper, I wish to examine the ways in which Žižek’s understanding of the superego might inform our understanding of the Funny Games films and of Haneke’s work more generally. I am particularly interested in Žižek’s enigmatic claim that “superego pressure demonstrates that we effectively are guilty of betraying our desire” (p. 81). What is the desire that is being betrayed? I would also like to address the problem of repetition in the shot-for-shot remake. I am not particularly interested in what has remained the same or what has changed in the two versions, but rather would like to tease out the structure of repetition that informs the films in the first place. Every element in Funny Games is something that has happened before and will happen again – there is an absolute and ritualised inevitability in the dialogue, the mise- en-scène and the plot itself, both within and between the two films. What is happening in 1997 has happened many times before and is happening again ten years later and will presumably continue to do so. In this sense, the films are enthralled by a certain gothic romance of evil triumphant. However, this evil is specifically fictional. It is the illusionary status of the antagonists that gives them their omnipotence – they are able to function on a different diegetic level to their victims and therefore are not bound by the same rules. I wish to conclude with an exploration of the ways in which Žižek discusses repetition in Enjoy Your Symptom! (1992) particularly the chapter “Why is Reality always Multiple?” where he explicity discusses the “ideal remake” and Gus van Sant’s shot-for-shot remake of Psycho. My overall question will be: what do the Funny Games films themselves finally teach us about repetition and meaning? Lacuna incorporated: cinematic imagination and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind Dr Jane Stadler, University of Queensland (Australia) Using Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Gondry, 2004) as a case study, this paper investigates the cognitive and affective processes of film spectatorship in light of philosophical accounts of imagination. Philosophers from Plato through Descartes theorised imagination in terms of imagery and ‘seeing with the mind’s eye’. In Greek thought one component of imagination, mimesis, is associated with imitation, mimicry, and forgery. The other, phantasia, is ‘a state of being appeared to’, which amounts to being deceived or perceiving illusions. This link between images and deception carries through attitudes to visual media expressed by theorists such as Baudry, Baudrillard and Currie in their discussions of simulation, spectatorship, and the deceptive power of images. In relation to the cinematic imagination, I argue imagination is creative and productive, with levels of complexity that often include, but certainly exceed image formation alone as different modes of imagination work in conjunction with cognition, affect, and perception to advance understanding. Kant’s account of the faculty of imagination in The Critique of Pure Reason and The Critique of Judgment encompasses and distinguishes between the productive imagination, the reproductive imagination, and the transcendental imagination. Kant believed that the mediating function of imagination, which includes imaging and representation, is so crucial to understanding that it underpins the very possibility of conceptual thinking, rendering sensory phenomena intelligible. The imagination, according to Kant, also fulfils a synthesising, schematising role. Recognition of the active, productive aspects of imagination as well as its more receptive, reproductive elements avoids collapsing the distinctions between imagination and false belief that the term ‘imagery’ has traditionally been associated with. This, in turn, reframes understandings of film spectatorship. In particular, imagination is important in furthering understanding by means of inductive reasoning and the exploration of possibilities, constructing a story from a film’s plot points, forging new understandings metaphorically, symbolically, or allegorically and drawing associations between terms to create a whole greater than the sum of its parts. In addition, I analyse the ways in which Eternal Sunshine evokes experiential, affective forms of imagination that entail ‘feeling with’ screen characters, and synaesthetic imagination which involves translating sound and image into touch, affect, and empathy to generate understanding on different levels. In sum, this paper questions how these aspects of the cinematic imagination bridge the lacunae existing between different spheres of experience, mediating between the story world of the film and the world of its audience, between sensation and understanding, and between subjectivity and external reality. There is more than meets the eye: film acting and spectatorship Dr Joerg Sternagel, Potsdam Universität (Germany) Watching films, the spectator consciously and subconsciously knows of specific effects the motion picture as a whole and moving images in particular provide for him due to the specific stylistic organization of each film. Identifying this overall knowledge and experience, another particular knowledge and experience can be assumed: We, as spectators, are moved, and more often than not, we know why we are moved – the film actor or the film actress teaches us to be moved. We watch and become involved under impression of our bodily knowledge and become part of an energetic experience. The paper maintains stylistic elements in film and aesthetic effects of film to be acknowledged in a system of bodily knowledge and energetic experience. Within this system, actor and spectator meet in a close interrelation: The performance of an actor as staged and set in scene for the screen correlates with the event of watching the performance as experienced by the spectator in front of the screen. The spectator faces the image of a dynamic film creation reaching him through the representation of the moving body of the actor. Shifting towards the analysis of the actor, his voice, body, rhythm, movement, and gesture, the significance of them, represents the basis for the realization of the process of watching and understanding film and its acting cast as one of resonance and affect. Watching the actor himself and his performance attain affects on and resonances of us, the spectators, as they are outwardly expressed. The film actor significantly guides us through the film and simultaneously enables us to think through his body as well as through our own bodies. While making sense with the film actor, we additionally make meaning out of bodily sense and affectively reconsider our own bodily being. We recognize the circulation of bodily affect between the actors and us. Assuming performance modes as eliciting sensory responses from the spectators leads to the acknowledgement of sense as the organisational control of film. The analysis of making sense with the film actor therefore introduces an approach that does not acknowledge narrative as the organisational control of film. It maintains communication and comprehension in the film experience to originate in the mutual exchange of the personal intentions of the viewer and the movements of others, including the actors on the screen. The project of defining a system of bodily knowledge and energetic experience between actor and spectator closely operates with the (ac)knowledge(ment) of perception on both sides of the screen. Analyzing the experience of acting: Maurice Merleau-Ponty, film, and the actor, the paper predominantly draws on two lectures of the philosopher, »Le cinéma et la nouvelle psychologie: que veut dire le film? - The Film and the New Psychology« (1945) and »L'expérience d'autrui - The Experience of Others« (1951-1952). As Merleau-Ponty elaborates in the former lecture, »[films] directly present to us that special way of being in the world, of dealing with things and other people«: films are perceived in an experience that is permanently accompanied by the perception of the own lived-body. The experience is also accompanied by the the perception of the other lived-body: As Merleau-Ponty stresses in the latter lecture, movement, rhythm, and gestures of the actor are experienced as a possibility for the own lived-body. While he claimed that possibility to be relevant regarding the stage actor, the paper links both his approaches to film and theater and points out this possibility to be also relevant regarding the film actor. Adorno, modernism and film music Richard Stopford, Durham University (UK) In this paper I will focus on Theodor Adorno's engagement with music in film. During his exile in America he developed his theory of the 'culture industry'. When culture becomes an expression of the machinations of a capitalist economics, consumer taste is actually constructed by the culture industry. Of Adorno's writings concerning the culture industry, his study of film music with Hanns Eisler is possibly least well known. The work expresses Adorno's anti-populism; the two writers bring into question the artistic and political integrity of film music both in terms of its own merits and relative to the artistic aims of film itself. They argue that the economic and political structure of the film industry coupled with the function of films within the culture industry present severe problems to the creation of artistically valid film scores. The purpose of the paper will be twofold. Firstly I wish to underline the deeply complex aesthetics which underpins Adorno's claims and motivate his critique of film music in terms of the question of the autonomy of art. As music and film are independently valid art-forms their conjunction within movies may entail a necessary compromise of their individual autonomy. I will revisit Adorno's claims concerning the requirements of autonomy in film music from within contemporary mainstream cinema. In particular, I will focus on examples of archetypal scores by composers such as Ennio Morricone, John Williams, Nino Rota, Hans Zimmer, Michael Nyman, and the cases of 2001: A Space Odyssey and Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction. In the context of these celebrated scores, I will assess Adorno and Eisler's own position that film music must be modernist. I will argue that there is a tension in their position which leads to two possible outcomes; I will broach both possibilities. On the one hand, influenced by Eisler's Brechtian position, they argued not only that audiences could accept modernist music in films but also that it was necessary to maintain the artistic integrity of both the music and the movie. I will assess this position with reference to the use of avant-garde music in films such as Kubrick's The Shining which I will contrast with Johnny Greenwood's score for There Will Be Blood. I will suggest that the Modernist music in film carries with it its own problems for the artistic autonomy of both music and film. However, I will suggest that there is a further possibility which may be more a result of Adorno's aesthetics than Eisler's: the requirement for autonomy, as a prerequisite for artistic integrity, precludes the use of music in film except in diegetic or critical cases. I will discuss this possibility in relation to the work of Michael Haneke's The Piano Teacher, Funny Games and Time of the Wolf and also through the concept of Dogma films. Mutual images: Kantian reflections in Deleuze’s transcendental cine- philosophy Dr Melinda Szaloky, University of California, Santa Barbara (USA) This paper will trace significant conceptual connections between Immanuel Kant’s transcendental method, crystallizing in Kant’s rationale of aesthetic reflection, and Gilles Deleuze’s cinematic philosophy, culminating in the notion of the time-image, as developed in the Cinema books. I will begin by demonstrating the affinity between the positions that these philosophers occupy, and the problems that they face, within what Deleuze has called the stratigraphic time of philosophy. Kant’s effort to resolve the impasse between materialism and idealism and to reinvigorate metaphysics by opening up a speculative transcendental reflexive sphere is measurable to Deleuze’s intervention, which, I will argue, follows the Kantian transcendental move (renamed as transcendental empiricism) in order to find a way out of the entrapment of a self-referential thought within its own creation, and to rekindle belief in something possible, to wit, the possibility of salvaging, if not ontology, at least distinction. I will argue that Deleuze’s claim that the cinematic shot -- a bi-referential, semi-subjective camera consciousness -- “immediately gives us a movement-image” as well as an immanent time-image is fully comparable to Kant’s conception of transcendental subjectivity as the imaginary focus of a unifying consciousness operating beyond, as well as within, sensible experience. This analogy will prompt me to consider Deleuze’s cine-philosophy as an exercise in transcendental logic, based on the structure of disavowal, which suspends knowledge in order to make room for invention through the power of imagination. I will show how in Deleuze’s view cinema has succeeded in reproducing this transcendental scenario, as well as following Kant’s lead to release time, the ultimate medium and organizer of thought, from its subordination to (apparent) movement. For Deleuze, the aberrant (i.e., center-less, non-localizable) movement of mental relation is inherent to cinema, and thus the direct time-image has always been there as a phantom in cinema, as a suppressed possibility waiting to be articulated. A similar story, Deleuze claims, can be traced in philosophy, where we have to wait for Kant to carry out the great reversal, that is, to convert aberrant movement into the most everyday kind, and to free time from its dependence on movement. Through these comparisons, Deleuze establishes what may seem to be an absurdly close connection between the Kantian reversal and time-image cinema. That this is indeed what Deleuze has in mind is confirmed at the end of Cinema 2, where he calls the modern cinema of the time-image “‘transcendental’ in the sense Kant gives this word: time is out of joint and presents itself in the pure state.” Finally, I will pay special attention to the “time-image,” the cinematic expression of Deleuze’s new concept of thought, comparable to the Kantian “I think,” which, on a par with Kant, Deleuze will conceive in aesthetic reflective terms. I will argue that Deleuze’s ostensibly Bergsonian notion of an intermediary, bi-referential cinematic movement-image, complete with an aberrant interstitial moment waiting to be set free as time’s infinite opening, constitutes an inspired re-elaboration of the baffling balance of Kant’s transcendental inquiry, played out in the Critique of Judgment between the beautiful and the sublime. Peirce's semiotic self and its relevance to documentary film Dr Hing Tsang, University of Lincoln (UK) This paper is an attempt to reconsider the relevance of C.S. Peirce's semeiotic to film studies with a particular emphasis on documentary. We argue that the usual notion of indexicality has to be reconsidered not so much as a forerunner for photographic realism but as a unique vehicle for linking subjective inner worlds with the wider external objective world. It is Peirce's notion of the index which is the most unique but often misunderstood part of his notion of the sign. A basic understanding of this would enable us to understand that, in contrast to a Saussurean account of the sign, Peirce's semeiotic is above all an account of intentionality and therefore is a theory of the self. C.S. Peirce is a figure that has often been quoted within the realm of Film Studies in the context of what has come to be known as 'indexicality'. 'Photographs, especially instantaneous photographs, are very instructive, because we know that they are in certin respects exactly like the objects that they represent' This has been quoted ad infinitum in many well-known film theory texts with little acknowledgement of the context in which Peirce made these observations. We are attempting to return to the ideas of the original essay What is a Sign? in order to understand a few very basic ideas contained within Peirce's sign theory. By doing so we argue that it is entirely different from more linguistic accounts of the sign. It is both time based and embodied. Because it is not purely rational or symbolic in either a Cartesian or Saussurean sense, it has much to offer to both practitioners and theoreticians alike. Above all it is a communicative model which is participatory and dialogic in nature. We emphasise both the importance of the neuralgic body, which is the way in which Peirce contextualises his attempt to introduce his notion of the sign, as well as considering the role of gesture and icons in the essay. By doing this we are questioning the many attempts to equate film with Saussurean 'langue'. Cinema’s infancy: event and intimacy Dr Pasi Valiaho, University of Turku (Finland) What is it in the medium of film that promises to bridge the gap between the world and our perception? Several philosophers have taken up the issue of how the cinema automatically restores the world in its immanence. Stanley Cavell, for one, argues in The World Viewed that “*f+ilm takes our very distance and powerlessness over the world as the condition of the world’s natural appearance. It promises the exhibition of the world in itself.” For Cavell, film implements the metaphysical condition of the modern sceptical subject, while at the same time it encourages us – especially in casting the human being and the rest of nature on the same plane – to overcome this condition and to reconsider the world as such. From a different angle, Gilles Deleuze has approached a similar problematic in observing how the task of modern cinema is to film, not the world (due to the break of a natural connection between perception and the world), but our belief in this world. The task of cinema becomes that of restoring the link between ourselves and events taking place independently of us by reaching, as Deleuze puts it, “the body before discourses, before words, before things are named.” Based on both Cavell and Deleuze, one can then distinguish the moment of candour and immanence in the cinema: the moving image lets us view the world in the absence of the subject but in the presence of the world’s eventing itself, it reaches the world before or in the absence of language and the act of naming but in the presence of a body that “prehends” the event. In this paper, “cinema’s infancy” refers to this fundamental moment and in particular to the medium’s incapacity to speak as its basic condition. In its “speechless” origins, cinematic perception approximates to what Giorgio Agamben describes in The Idea of Prose as the infant’s “condition of being able to pay attention precisely to what has not been written, to somatic possibilities that are arbitrary and uncodified.” On this basis, the paper addresses the ontology of film and focuses on the problem of the event, immanence and the moving image. This ontological questioning, on the other hand, is supplemented with a treatment of the aesthetics of film in terms of movement, intimacy and touch. The paper proposes that in the cinema, our relation with the world is based on an intimate bond with the event that incorporates a metaphysical union of the human being and nature. Memento and self-deception Dr David Wall, UWE (UK) Leonard Shelby, the protagonist in Memento (2000, Nolan, USA) lies to himself. However, contrary to the opinion of most commentators, he is not self-deceived. Leonard suffers from short-term amnesia which creates a form of psychological and temporal partitioning between the individual who initiates the deception and the individual who is deceived. Consequently Leonard has none of the tensions and tendencies that characterize self- deception, and we should deny that he is self-deceived. This has important implications for how we understand self-deception. According to a traditional view, ‘Intentionalism’, self- deception should be modelled on interpersonal deception, in that the deception must result from the agent having an intention to bring herself to have a false belief. But to avoid paradox, intentionalism must appeal to just the kind of partitioning we see in Leonard Shelby. If, as I argue, this partitioning is incompatible with self-deception then we should reject intentionalism as it cannot provide a non-paradoxical account of self-deception. Film affect and the time of the cut Dr Maria Walsh, Chelsea College of Art (UK) Film affect, i.e. the capacity of a film image to move the spectator beside him or herself, received much attention in Sergei Eisenstein’s film theories. It was also mentioned by early film analysts such as Béla Belázs and Jean Epstein. The emphasis in Eisenstein was on the cognitive aspects of affect and in his theories he proposed using specific film form to generate particular affects that would in turn enable the spectator to make predetermined (by Eistenstein) connections between ideas and so engender a revolutionary consciousness. Largely Eisenstein’s affective strategies were mapped unto the cut or montage. By means of montage, associations between particular images would be created and ultimately transformed into intellectual ideas that would result in the proletariat’s becoming conscious of their oppression. The paradox in Eisenstein’s theories is that, on the one hand, affect was seen as an important tool towards cognition, while, on the other hand, this idealism was somewhat circumscribed by the unconsciously mimetic qualities of film affect. (For example, Eisenstein laughs at the sight of the audience swaying hypnotically to the motion of haymaking in The General Line). For theorists such as Belázs and Epstein, affect was more abstract, less a route towards cognition and more an entity or experience in itself bound up with the temporal rhythms and light effects of film. Although, Eisenstein’s theories receive a somewhat renewed emphasis in contemporary cognitive film theory, Eisenstein’s linking of affect and montage to generate predetermined cognitive meaning has transmogrified into the tenets of advertising, whereby fast and dramatic cutting between images is used to create mental associations that transform into a desire for products – consumer consciousness rather than revolutionary consciousness. Interestingly, Gilles Deleuze in his cinema books reunites Eisenstein’s literary approach to affect and the more phenomenological one of Belázs and Epstein to invent an approach to film affect whereby the sensation of being moving beside oneself becomes one of being moved in and by time. In Deleuze’s concept of the affection-image, narrative goals are suspended and the spectator’s desire is dispersed in an ambiguous, multi-directional, manner. (Needless to say, this is the antithesis of consumer desire). The spectator “I” finds itself stranded on the qualitative movements of time. Strangely enough, Deleuze’s affection- image can also be mapped onto the cut, but rather than this being purely a cut between one image and another, this cut happens within the frame of the image, i.e. internal montage, a phenomenon that was also mentioned by Eisenstein. In internal montage, the image bifurcates so that its virtual potential resonates in the spectator. The links the spectator registers, but cannot interpret as this is not a theory of cognition, are between the appearance and disappearance of sensation as it impinges on the body. In this paper, I propose to examine these filmic affects in relation to avant-garde filmmaker Chantal Akerman’s News From Home, 1976, and artist filmmaker Tacita Dean’s Disappearance at Sea, 2000. I shall propose that these films engage in a different mode of cutting that bypasses the ultimate cut of cognition (Eisenstein) which removes the spectator from the image and instead releases a continuous inter-cutting whereby the spectator is affected by the sensation of time itself as it directly touches the body. My argument will transverse early film theory with Deleuze. On the possibility of cinematic philosophy Thomas E. Wartenberg, Mount Holyoke College (USA) One source of the amazing outpouring of philosophical interest in film, and popular culture more generally, is the perception that films are a useful tool for the philosopher to employ. Nonetheless, there has been serious debate about what films are actually good for, philosophically speaking. Some hold that films are, at most, of heuristic value to the philosopher, while others assert that films do philosophy in just the same way that written texts do and, hence, make an actual contribution to the discipline. In my presentation, I will assess this debate. I begin by presenting a typology of the four positions that have developed in regard to the issue of films-as-philosophy. I will then show why I support the qualifiedly pro-position on cinematic philosophy, using Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind to support my argument. Here is a brief overview of the typology: First, there is the unqualifiedly pro-position in regard to cinematic philosophy. Stanley Cavell and Stephen Mulhall advocate this position. While the readings of individual films that both Mulhall and Cavell have produced, the weakness of this position is that it does not address the precise way in which films actually do philosophy. The unqualifiedly anti-position on cinematic philosophy holds that films, although perhaps extremely suggestive for doing philosophy, are not by themselves capable of doing philosophy in any way. Murray Smith and Paisley Livingston have recently embraced this viewpoint. From this point of view, although films can be of heuristic and pedagogical use for philosophers, they cannot make a contribution to philosophy on their own. My problem with this position is that its proponents have not confronted the claims made by philosophers to have found philosophy being done in films in more than a cursory manner. The qualifiedly anti-cinematic philosophy takes account of the claim that films can do philosophy, but limits the philosophical potential of film. Bruce Russell has developed this view in a series of articles. My disagreement with this position is only on the extent of the philosophical contributions that films can make. I argue that the limits placed on film’s contributions to philosophy by this position are arbitrary, although no one, I think, would contend that films can do everything that philosophers have through written texts. The qualifiedly pro-cinematic philosophy position that I endorse admits, then, that there are some aspects of philosophy that cannot be replaced cinematically, but asserts that, nonetheless, there are central philosophical techniques that cinema can replicate, most centrally that of the thought experiment. To support this view, I will present an interpretation of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind according to which the film presents a thought experiment that shows that memory plays a crucial role in what I call the “education of desire.” On film, Dick, and philosophy Dr Dennis M. Weiss, York College of Pennsylvania (USA) To a professor of philosophy with an abiding appreciation of film and whose teaching and scholarship has relied, sometimes heavily, on film, Stephen Mulhall’s On Film presents a challenge to think more deeply both about film as philosophy and about how to read film. His readings of the Alien Quadrilogy are illuminating and astute and model the philosophical exploration of film. Yet tucked into the interstices of these readings are other readings that are more problematic, including his treatment of Blade Runner, which ultimately complicate Mulhall’s thesis regarding film as philosophy. While Mulhall’s treatment of Blade Runner serves largely to highlight themes of Ridley Scott’s films, it is not brief, running to 20 pages, the same number of pages devoted to Alien, and it does offer fresh insight into the film. It is odd, though, that in these 20 pages no reference is made of Philip K. Dick—despite a number of intriguing points for the film and philosophy enthusiast. More films have been made of Dick’s novels and short stories than any other 20th century science fiction writer. Dick’s oeuvre makes a strong case for the close ties between philosophy and literature and probably has generated more critical attention than any other science fiction writer. And importantly, Dick explores philosophical themes identical to those that attracted Mulhall’s attention. So it seems odd that Dick receives not even a passing mention. Of course On Film is on film, not literature, but this absence of Dick is nonetheless intriguing and raises some troubling questions for Mulhall’s treatment of philosophy and film, particularly his a-contextual and internalist approach to film. In his reading of Blade Runner, Mulhall keeps a number of issues at bay: the film’s relationship to Dick’s novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, the theatrical release’s relationship to the director’s cut, and the film’s relationship to broader developments in our technoculture. Furthermore, Mulhall’s Heideggerian treatment of film technology as enframing suggests a problematic approach to technology that ultimately weakens his thesis regarding film as philosophy. To substantiate these points I draw on two sources. First, I argue that Mulhall’s thesis regarding film as philosophy can find support outside the realm of philosophy in the area of visual rhetoric, where the notion of visual argument is already well developed. On Film sometimes seems overly concerned with policing the boundaries between philosophy and film studies and related disciplines. A more interdisciplinary approach to the question of whether film can argue and can argue philosophically would be more fruitful. Such an interdisciplinary approach would also temper the overly naïve assessment of technology in On Film. These claims are further developed in a reading of the Richard Linklater film A Scanner Darkly (2006), also based on a Dick novel. Reading Blade Runner through A Scanner Darkly helps to clarify issues about film, philosophy, and technology. ‘What ought you to be watching?’ Michael Haneke and the ethics of spectatorship Dr Catherine Wheatley, Southampton University (UK) That the subject of ethics should arise in connection to Haneke’s cinema is hardly surprising. Each of Haneke’s films presents an ethical problem within its narrative.: suicide, murder, conspiracy and rape are recurring themes, for example. But more significantly, within their treatment of these subjects, the films all demonstrate an underlying concern with questions of guilt and responsibility. This concern takes place on a narrative level – as characters struggle with and against their responsibility for past and present actions – but it is also demonstrated on an extra-diegetic level. For the content of each of these films presents us with a series of ethical problems which echo or mirror a set of ethical problems inherent to the viewing situation. These problems revolve around the spectator’s complicity with the cinematic apparatus, and his tacit acceptance or denial of this complicity, and the key focus of Haneke’s films is on the spectator’s responsibility for his own involvement in the spectator-screen relationship. While questions of responsibility, guilt and complicity are raised within the narratives of Haneke’s films then – and provide in themselves ample material for consideration – they also analogise Haneke’s concerns with the acts of film-going and film- viewing. On an implicit level, the films prompt their spectators to ask: How are we complicit with the film? What are the moral consequences of this? Why, upon watching Haneke’s films, do so often we feel irritated, cross, even guilty? Existing critical traditions, however, fail to fully account for the impact of Haneke’s oeuvre, situated as it is between intellectualised philosophy and populist entertainment. Previous approaches to the subject of ethics and film have tended to focus on the morality of the diegetic universe within a film, using film to illustrate philosophical concepts (Carney, 1986; Brill, 1988) or to raise questions of ideology and film form, bringing ethics to bear primarily in service of political concerns (Mulvey, 1973; Wollen, 1979). In order to discuss Haneke’s films then, and to understand the peculiar impact they have upon their audiences, a new critical framework is needed; one which straddles, but also moves beyond, existing frameworks. Drawing on the moral philosophy of Immanuel Kant and Stanley Cavell, this paper explicitly examines the ethics of the film-viewing experience. Taking Haneke’s films as the object of empirical inquiry, it posits the theory that by foregrounding a conflict between activity and passivity, reason and emotion that is implicit in the great majority of spectatorship theory, Haneke is able to offer the spectator a film-viewing position that is radically different to that in which other models of filmmaking place him. Rationally aware of his subjective position but nonetheless engaged with the film’s events, the spectator of Haneke’s films is forced to negotiate his relationship to the film autonomously – the unprecedented freedom that Haneke’s films accord him thus carries with it a considerable burden of responsibility which refuses him any possibility of seeking refuge from the world in the darkness of the cinema. This refusal of flight from one’s ethical position in the world is precisely, I will argue, the endpoint that Haneke’s films have in sight. Michel Gondry and the phenomenology of visual perception Dr Stephen White, Tufts University (USA) The classical film theory of Andre Bazin and the theories of such important successors as Christian Metz and Noel Burch presuppose a transparent and direct relation between the photographic image and the physical reality it depicts. According to these theories, the image is a mechanical and uninterpreted trace of the external world. It is, in this respect, more like a death mask or a footprint than a painted portrait, between whose image and the external world the artist’s interpretations are necessarily interposed. This presupposition also runs through such writings on still photography as those of Susan Sontag and Roland Barthes. Moreover, because of the obvious analogy between the retinal image and the film image, there is a strong analogy between such views and classical empiricist and sense-datum theories of the given in visual perception. I argue that what we are given in visual perception is far richer than empiricist and sense- datum theories allow and that the films of Michel Gondry serve as explicit reminders of this fact. Gondry’s films call attention to the rich phenomenology of visual experience by reversing, and otherwise calling attention to, relations and distinctions that are normally given directly and unproblematically in visual experience—particularly causal, temporal, and agential relations and such functionally relevant and salient distinctions as inside/outside, public/private, and self/other. Gondry’s techniques involve, focus on, or foreground all of those ways in which the image inside the frame may fail to be a mechanical and unmediated reproduction of physical objects and events: multiple exposures, multiple reproductions of the same image, and a variety of other optical and digital techniques, as well as the techniques of animation. In addition to using such techniques, Gondry calls our attention to them by recreating the images to which they give rise through radically different means. This he does—with great ingenuity and often at considerable expense—when he recreates the two-dimensional images typically associated with such optical and digital manipulation by photographing real physical objects in three-dimensional space. In emphasizing the techniques that classical film theory ignores or calls into doubt, Gondry’s films point up an important failing in the theory and its successors: their marginalization of such major film categories as German expressionist film, the avant-garde tradition as exemplified by Leger, Duchamp, Man Ray, Norman McLaren, Kenneth Anger, Stan Brakage, and Robert Breer, and animation—categories whose importance to Gondry’s films I demonstrate in detail. Finally I argue that the techniques that Gondry uses constantly in his short films and music videos, as well as in his feature length film The Science of Sleep, shed an important light on his ostensibly more realistic film, The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. On film worlds Dr. Daniel Yacavone, University of Edinburgh (UK) To speak of a narrative film’s ‘world’ as something more than a set of fictional characters, settings, and events, or of a film as a world, is to stress both the transformational nature of filmmaking and the immersive aspect of film viewing. Yet with some exceptions (including Daniel Frampton’s recent Filmosophy) the worlds of films have seldom been discussed, or systematically theorised, with this dual emphasis. This paper argues that the worlds that narrative films create and present are object- experiences with both cognitive and affective dimensions. They may, however, be viewed in two ways, corresponding to two different but largely complimentary perspectives. Firstly, film worlds may be viewed from an ‘external,’ objective, and ontological perspective, focused on representation as a formal process of (re)organising and transforming visual- acoustic realities against the background of existing films and art works (and the conventions they have established). Secondly, they may be viewed from an ‘internal,’ subjective, and first-person or phenomenological perspective, focused on intuited expression and the unique (aesthetic) space and time they create for, and with, film viewers. Nelson Goodman’s theory of the creation and cognition of symbolic art worlds (Ways of Worldmaking) helps to provide a convincing model of film worlds in the first sense, whereas Mikel Dufrenne’s concept of the represented and expressed worlds of aesthetic objects (The Phenomenology of Aesthetic Experience) aids in accounting for them in the second sense. More specifically, Goodman’s five symbolic processes through which new artistic worlds and the singular perceptual orders they establish are made, or “re-made,” from existing ones, are provisionally applied to filmmaking (with some conceptual modification necessitated by relevant properties of the cinematic medium). These processes, as well as Goodman’s larger category of “exemplification,” whereby an art work functions as a “world sample” of itself, illuminate the nature of a cinematic world as a fixed perceptual entity empirically defined in oppositional relation to other filmic, artistic, and ‘everyday’ worlds. Dufrenne’s phenomenological description, in contrast, addresses the pronounced affective/expressive and temporal dimensions of film worlds as experienced and evaluated ‘in-themselves’ (for which Goodman’s notion of ‘world-making’ provides no comprehensive account). Following Dufrenne, film worlds as experienced are conceived as durational aesthetic objects with a “quasi-subjective” interiority expressing a singular “world feeling.” These general features of the creation, objective existence, and subjective experience of film worlds are elucidated with reference to two meta-cinematic films - Lars von Trier’s The Five Obstructions and David Lynch’s Inland Empire - thereby grounding the proposed theoretical account in contemporary cinematic practice. Other salient issues that are briefly noted, as a prelude to future research, include the relation between cinematic rhythm and the expressed or ‘lived’ time of film worlds, their self-reflexive dimension, and the status of filmmakers as film world creators. Case, example, and illustration Dr Agustin Zarzosa, SUNY (USA) This presentation explores one of the fundamental problems of film theory, namely, the question about how, through the analysis and interpretation of specific films, film theory creates concepts. To tackle this problem, I theorize the distinction between case, example, and illustration. I use the term illustration to refer to films that remain external to the concept they explicate. The relationship between concept and illustration is completely extrinsic, as the film does not generate or include the concept in any way. Films function as examples or cases when the concept inheres in the film. What distinguishes an example from a case is the way in which the concept inheres in each of them. Through examples, theorists generate, develop and refine concepts. In other words, examples provide concepts with a temporary body. Insofar as the concept may be exemplified by any number of films, examples are inessential. Cases differ from examples to the extent that the concept would not be possible without the specific case that explicates the concept. In this sense, cases constitute the definite body of the concept they create. Besides theorizing these distinctions, I also intend to draw rhetorical and methodological continuities among theoretical approaches that appear to be irreconcilable. The concept under scrutiny will be the classical Hollywood film. The three models and respective methodologies I examine are the following: first, Raymond Bellour’s analysis of a few exemplary films that stand for the whole of American cinema; second, David Bordwell, Kristen Thompson, and Janet Staiger’s model of an empirical and asymptotic approximation to the concept of a mode of film practice, which they understand as a theoretical construct that should be judged by criteria of logical rigor and instrumental value; and third, Gilles Deleuze’s account of classical Hollywood cinema as the action-image, model that inscribes classical Hollywood cinema in a theoretical classification of images conceived of as a natural history. The guiding question will be, to what extent methodologies and films discussed determine each of these models? The paper attempts to contribute to the discussion between methodological approaches that privilege the examination of an exemplary film (in this case, Bellour) and those that privilege a more representative sample of the whole universe (in this case, Bordwell, Thompson, and Staiger). I engage with Slavoj Žižek’s defense of the tradition that privileges a single exemplary film. In The Fright of Real Tears, he argues that not all films entertain the same relation to the universal and that the art of dialectical analysis consists in selecting the exceptional film the guarantees access to universality. Deleuze provides a contrasting approach to this problem. He also belongs to the philosophical tradition that theorizes from specific exceptional cases. However, unlike Žižek, he does not think of the relation between an individual film and the concept it informs as dialectical. Deleuze discusses the relationship between the case and the concept explicitly in Difference and Repetition. He contrasts the Hegelian system, according to which the essential contains the unessential in the concept, and the Leibnizian system, according to which the case includes the essential. I examine Deleuze’s argument and ask if his practice of film theory and criticism follows his own Leibnizian principles and if his understanding of the relationship between the case and the concept may help us theorize the practice of film theory. The cinema of Sarunas Bartas Aija Zivitere, ISM Institute (Latvia) This paper examines the cinema of Sarunas Bartas, a Lithuanian author and filmmaker, and problematises not only his status as a master auteur of East European film but the very concept of East European film. This is done within the theoretical framework of nonmodernism proposed by Bruno Latour, where common and differing features of practices with the moderns, the postmoderns and the premoderns are traced, and the nonmoderns emerge. Multiple and contradictory locations that mark the curriculum vitae of Sarunas Bartas - Soviet Lithuania (where he was born and raised), Moscow during the collapse of the Soviet Union (where he studied film directing), the independent Lithuania (where he established his own film company ‘Kinema’), Lisbon and Paris (where one of his main producers Paulo Branco’s companies ‘Madragoa Filmes’ and ‘Gemini Films’ are located), Vilnius and Rotterdam (both places where he currently lives) and so on - are approached not only as geo-political but also as time-zones related to language and memory. The case of Sarunas Bartas is examined as that of in-between zone between (artistic) possibilities opened up by wars, migrations and states such as that of the Lithuanian – American avant-garde of Jurgis (George) Maciunas and Jonas Mekas, and by differences between individuals and collective (national) cinema cultures as exemplified by the exile of Andrei Tarkovsky or Bela Tarr. In doing this, the figure of artist as nomad is opposed to that of migrant and that of exile. A Deleuzian model of inter-relations and inter-dependency serves as a starting point to discuss the films of Bartas and his practice of filmmaking from the technological, the sonic, the economic, and the aesthetic aspects. Special attention is paid to the Deleuzian concepts of duration and voyage, and to the possibilities opened up by these concepts in relation to the cinema of Sarunas Bartas. This paper forms a part of the ongoing research on cinema authors, which follows the case study strategy. This strategy allows the author to kayak (here the author adapts the kayaking metaphor of Latour instead of the metaphor of bridge building) the institutional divide between the field of visual arts and the film industry and to analyse the artworks made within each and the processes influencing both and particularly those going on in between. The findings from the cases researched are put within the context of the continuing debate on mass art/ art cinema and auteur cinema on the one hand and tertiary cinema and gestural cinema on the other.
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