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F I L M - P H I L O S O P H Y
Internet Salon (ISSN 1466-4615)
http://www.film-philosophy.com
Vol. 4 No. 19, August 2000
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C. Paul Sellors
The Nature of Film Spectators
Francesco Casetti
_Inside the Gaze: The Fiction Film and its Spectator_
Translated by Nell Andrew with Charles O'Brien
Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1998
ISBN: 0-253-21232-4 (pb); 0-253-33443-8 (hb)
xviii + 174 pp.
With _Inside the Gaze_ [1] Francesco Casetti develops enunciation theory of
earlier film semiotics in an effort to explain satisfactorily the
complicated web of cinematic spectation. Rather than possessing a textual
code for understand films, he argues, spectators must bring a *competence*
to their engagements with these texts. [2] In principle, this is certainly
a reasonable modification to enunciation theory. It first identifies the
act of spectation as a process, rather than a product, and second, locates
an intersection between the filmic text and an empirical, unique, flesh and
blood spectator. In its broadest understanding, it is therefore amenable to
both film theory and history. Although he locates a position for actual
spectators in his model, he brackets them from his present argument,
focusing instead on understanding the real spectator's textually
constructed avatar, the being that appears during spectation, 'by the way
it [the film text] says *you*' (15).
Casetti constructs his challenging and complex argument with detail and
skill, weaving together numerous intricate narratological components of
filmic texts in an effort to explain how they designate and place
spectators within the narration and then set them out on their journey
through the narrative (14). Unfortunately, Casetti's remarkable ability to
animate the formidable body of these narratological concepts results more
in a display of rhetorical agility than analytical rigour. His laudable
dissection of the intersection of gazes and narrational entities in film
leaves many problems faced by enunciation theory in general untouched.
Casetti begins with three important, and I believe correct,
presuppositions. First, textual studies of films and reception studies of
audiences are complimentary endeavours and must be compatible with each
other. Second, the interaction between a text and spectator implies that
cinema is in some way a communicative medium. Third, since films are
communicative, then the content communicated must originate from an
intending entity of some sort. 'In so many reception studies', he laments,
'the text simply disappears or becomes a completely indifferent object,
whereas I insist that the text is crucial, if only because its presence is
what turns a *social* situation into a *communicative* situation' (xvii).
What he does not make clear is why enunciation theory is the correct tool
to defend and develop these presuppositions. Indeed, it is precisely the
nature of the enunciator and enunciatee, especially when saddled with the
notion of *the gaze*, that causes a number of inconsistencies in Casetti's
argument.
A year before Casetti published the original version of _Inside the Gaze_
in Italian in 1986, David Bordwell provided some concise arguments against
enunciation theory in his _Narration and the Fiction Film_. [3] Bordwell
contended that even if we can accept enunciation theory for literary
fiction, it does not necessary follow that it can be adapted to explain
narration in filmic fiction. One of the fundamental problems, he insisted,
is that the theory's linguistic concepts do not easily map onto a
moving-image medium. Most notably, cinematic enunciation theory has not
been able to coherently translate from literature to film one of literary
enunciation theory's most basic components: the *enonce*, the utterance
itself. In literature, the enonce is a basic analytical unit, and can be
constituted by a word or many sentences. However, cinematic enunciation
theorists have not made clear what a filmic utterance *is*. Indeed, given
the complexity possible of a shot, for instance, it is difficult to see
what this minimum, basic unit might be for film. Bordwell concluded that
'because a film lacks equivalents for the most basic aspects of verbal
activity, I suggest that we abandon the enunciation account' (26). Despite
this suggestion, Bordwell has not given sufficient reason to abandon
enunciation theory. Instead, he has identified a substantial difficulty
that must be resolved if cinematic enunciation theory is to proceed.
Casetti, however, does not offer any insight to how such problems can be
solved. [4]
There are other difficulties. Equally troublesome is the notion of
spectator positioning that Casetti develops. He founds his analysis of the
*spectator in the text* on the principle that films generate a textual
*you* as the logical consequence of the enunciating *I*. Considered most
broadly, the basic assumption here is reasonable enough. If the act of
communicating does not assume an addressee, then the act is trivial. What
is not so straightforward about this assumption is that this addressee
should be conceived of as an abstract, singular, *ideal* individual: the
enunciatee. Within his theory, Casetti portrays this entity as the textual
instance of a spectator that real flesh and blood spectators are supposed
to develop some sort of relationship with. There are some quite substantive
difficulties with this structure. Most notably, it seems at odds with the
common experience of watching films. The attention of normal spectators, I
would think, is directed to the fictional contents of the film directly,
not to a process of negotiating some sort of correspondence with a textual
doppleganger. Casetti could be suggesting, and at times he appears to, that
when we see a film, we see it through the enunciatee. 'At this point, the
problem of the spectator becomes more particular, defined now as a problem
of a mark, within the film's interior, that indicates an invitation to see
and hear' (30). But in order to facilitate direct seeing through this
invitation, the spectator would have to entertain some notion of being
identical with the enunciatee. Casetti does not explain how such an
identity can be achieved. He may be addressing this problems when he
mentions *the game*, of which spectating seems to be a part. Unfortunately,
he neither clearly explains what the game is precisely, nor justifies why
fiction film should be cast as a game in the first place. Casetti needs to
state a great deal more about the relationship between the enunciatee in
the text and the real spectator in the theatre to diffuse such
difficulties. All he suggests is that the real spectator 'recognizes'
himself,
'by successfully placing himself within the scope of a reception
continually subject to images and sounds. The spectator, in sum, becomes
engaged in the act of gazing, responding to the availability of the
screen's world by assuming certain responsibilities according to the
demands of a true vocation' (9).
Rather than offering a clear analysis of spectator positioning in fiction
film, Casetti's explanation raises a rather troubling ontological problem:
spectators must somehow recognise themselves within a textual, non-existent
and abstract entity.
Equally suspect issues appear in the structure of his enunciative model as
a whole, especially once *the gaze* is superimposed onto it. The
enunciator, according to Casetti, possessing a unique visual perspective on
the fictional world of a film, enunciates an enonce to the enunciatee, with
whom we, as spectators, develop some kind of relationship with. But because
Casetti insists that actual spectators *see* fictional contents through a
network of gazes, his enunciator and enunciatee risk collapsing onto one
another. It is the enunciator who is responsible for directing the complex
structure of gazes through which the enunciatee and subsequently real
spectators have visual access. Because the enunciatee is the logical
implication of enunciation, then all the gazes that the enunciator offers
in the process of enunciating will be equally the visual content of the
enunciatee. In short, the ideal receiver of the enunciator's discourse is
identical with the discourse itself, since this receiver is wholly
determined by it. The enunciatee, being abstract and not sentient, brings
nothing to the enonce, and nothing, therefore, to a theory that seeks to
explain how spectators engage and understand fiction films. The enunciatee
is a trivial component of the model. As a result of this structure, it
appears that the content of the enunciatee's gaze is directly correspondent
with, indeed the same as, that of the enunciator's. Functionally,
therefore, it seems that the enunciator and enunciatee are identical, since
no two entities, abstract or not, can share the same temporal and spatial
co-ordinates (and therefore the same content of a gaze) and not be
identical. If this is the case, then, from the perspective of visual access
to fiction, the spectator also risks disappearing due to the enunciator's
gravity. In short, the theory appears to implode.
Casetti has not explained why a theory of cinematic spectation needs *an
ideal* receiver in the first place. His objective is to outline a model
that enables reception theory without losing sight of the text. In other
words, he seeks to understand how filmic texts impact real spectators.
Immediately, however, he substitutes this notion of impact or influence
with the metaphor 'position'. He then begins to treat this metaphor
literally. It is possible, however, to retain a notion of influence and the
structure of the communicative model on which enunciation theory is based
without constructing a virtual spectator.
Imagine, for the moment, that I am presenting this review at a conference.
It would certainly be odd to think that an ideal conference participant was
part of the communicative chain, especially for the receivers of the paper.
Competent conference participants can attend to the contents of the
presentation directly, without having to negotiate some form of
correspondence with an ideal entity. The situation would not change if I
could not attend the conference and instead sent a videotape of my
presentation. Casetti would certainly be ready for these counter-examples,
and point out that in both cases I am discussing communication, not
enunciation. Although these models are related, they differ in that the
former has real participants, the latter abstract entities. Simply shifting
from a real presenter to an abstract enunciator, however, does not explain
why we need to sacrifice general spectatorship for an ideal spectator as
the direct recipient of enunciation. The problem with enunciation theory,
at least as Casetti presents it, is it does not respect its kinship with
communication theory.
Now imagine a fiction film where this review is presented in a single long
take from the visual perspective of lecture hall seating. The real
spectators of this likely dull fiction can attend to the content of the
presentation, contemplate its visual point of view, and question the
reasons for its inclusion in the fictional film *directly*, without having
to understand how the filmic structure creates an ideal, non-identical
surrogate. It is certainly reasonable to assume that a communicative or
enunciative *I* implies a *you*, a receiver, as Casetti suggests. It may
just turn out, though, that this *you*, in both cases, is one and the same,
the real flesh and blood humans who receive the communication. Locating
real rather than ideal spectators need not risk losing the film text in the
process of spectation, as Casetti fears, just as the arguments of this
review need not succumb entirely to the agendas of its readers.
There is one further difficulty with Casetti's notions of seeing and the
gaze that I would like to address. One of the core problems with his
argument, and indeed enunciation theory in general, is it proceeds without
first understanding the nature of the content of an enunciation in fiction
film. This lack of attention to the nature of fiction generates severe
shortcomings. Casetti is clear that the enunciator rests outside of the
fictional world. This seems a necessary move on his part, because it allows
him to explain how the gaze can be directed freely, independent of
fictional events. It also permits him to draw a correspondence between
perception and belief, at least in certain circumstances like the
'impossible objective view'. This phrase indicates the type of difficulties
that Casetti's analysis manifests. Such a view, he argues, can only belong
to the enunciator, and presents an ideal view of characters resident in the
fictional world from outside of that world. By being outside, however, the
enunciator surrenders the possibility of any physical, including,
therefore, visual interaction between worlds. This gaze is impossible if it
belongs to the enunciator, not because it cannot belong to any participant
in the fiction, but because it is impossible that it is a view at all, at
least in a strictly visual sense. Once this is recognised, the notion of
the gaze, and seeing fictional contents in general, becomes suspect.
Although such a suggestion may seem blasphemous to some film theoreticians,
it cannot be denied that when we see a fiction, say _Citizen Kane_ for
instance, we only ever actually see Welles, his cast, and wonderfully
elaborate sets and props. We can no sooner *see* Xanadu than we can visit
it. [5] The problem is that there exists no Kane for either us or the
enunciator to hold in our gaze.
There are ways out of this difficulty, such as Kendall Walton's analysis of
make-believe, Gregory Currie's interest in the imagination, and, more
generally, cognitivists' focus on the mental processes of recognition,
among others. It is certainly not the current task to critique these
approaches here. Rather, I wish to indicate that they address spectatorial
access to films by taking into account how real spectators approach
engaging fictional objects and events represented by actual world
components. Undertaking such a methodology would permit Casetti an
analytical, rather than rhetorical description of the relationships between
spectators and narratological entities. [6] As it stands, however, he
promotes a thesis arguing, ostensibly, that spectatorial engagement is
positioned by the gaze enunciated to the enunciatee by the enunciator,
without any explanation of how we can have gazes of things that do not
exist.
Finally, I would like to add a note of complaint and one of praise about
the book's layout. I found the omission of a bibliography very frustrating.
Granted, detailed endnotes are included, but complete references to
citations are often difficult to locate because repeated references are
abridged. Such an omission is not only inconvenient for the book's reader,
these days it is lazy and inexcusable. In contrast, however, the glossary
near the end of the book is most helpful and clear.
Considered within the historical period of its initial publication in the
mid-1980s, _Inside the Gaze_ offers some valuable insights into and
modifications of cinematic enunciation theory. However, this theory as a
whole has not aged well over the last fifteen years. The problems it faces
cannot be accounted for simply under shifting trends in film scholarship.
Rather, the basic concepts on which the theory is based have proved
remarkably difficult to develop and defend. Bordwell was certainly well
justified to dismiss advancing enunciation theory further, even if he did
not offer decisive arguments against it. To be fair to Casetti, the
presuppositions that he launches his text from are as valid now as when he
first asserted them. The problem is that cinematic enunciation theory no
longer seems sufficient to undertake the tasks that he is asking of it. It
is a pity that this book took so long to appear in English after its
Italian publication. This was a timely book whose time, unfortunately, has
now past.
New York University, USA
Footnotes
1. Originally published as _Dentro lo squardo: il film e il suo spettatore_
(Milan: Bompiani, 1986); English edition prepared from the French
translation by Jean Chateauvert and Martine Joly: _D'un regard l'altre: le
film et son spectateur_ (Lyon: Presses Universitaires de Lyon, 1990). This
English edition also has an Introduction by Christian Metz, and a Preface
written by Dudley Andrew.
2. He defines 'competence' as: 'The knowledge required to relate the story;
a modality of narrational authority. Those responsible for telling or
hearing a story are endowed with the duty, desire, ability, and know-how to
carry out their mandate' (136).
3. See especially pp. 21-26.
4. Casetti defines the enonce rather loosely, describing it as: 'The
enunciated; any result of the enunciation; the utterance itself, which may
refer to the film, sequence, shot, etc.' (136)
5. In a footnote on _Citizen Kane_ Casetti makes one of the most obscure,
tangential suggestions I have ever read in a film theory text. Discussing
the relationship between the internal diegesis and external conditions of
production in _Citizen Kane_, he argues that 'for us, the letter 'K',
beyond being the hero's initial, can be understood as a coded allusion to
Welles. Both the letter 'K' and 'W' are constituted by means of a
conjunction of two acute angles; a simple rotation would turn one into the
other' (152, n. 48). I have attempted this geometrical surgery
unsuccessfully, only to discover that I was hampered by one letter being
constituted by three lines, the other by four.
6. It also would allow Casetti to avoid strange conceptions such as 'seeing
oneself see' (14).
Bibliography
Bordwell, David, _Narration in the Fiction Film_ (Madison, Wisconsin: The
University of Wisconsin Press, 1985).
Currie, Gregory, 'Visual Fictions', _The Philosophical Quarterly_, vol. 41
no. 163, April 1991, pp. 129-143.
Walton, Kendall L., 'Fearing Fictions', _The Journal of Philosophy_, vol.
75 no. 1, January 1987, pp. 5-27.
Copyright © Film-Philosophy 2000
C. Paul Sellors, 'The Nature of Film Spectators',
_Film-Philosophy_, vol. 4 no. 19, August 2000
<http://www.mailbase.ac.uk/lists/film-philosophy/files/sellors2.html>.
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