Sorry (and beware) - this is far too long.

Let me distinguish two kinds of observation and with them two kinds of
description/depiction.

The first is empirical observation - observation in which the observation
may be observed by another observer (another subject). Repeatability for
example is a
common standard demanded in the scientific institutionalisation of empirical
observation in order (among other things) to ensure the observation's
observability. Empirical
observation of what brains do is one way of observing all sorts of brain
processes, including all the processes that in phenomenological description
we call 'thinking.' Empirical observation of these processes is still very
crude, and what thinking looks like or at least what we can see of it when
observed empirically in brains still does not tell us much about what it is
and what we are doing when we do it.

The second is phenomenological. Phenomenological observation is not open. My
phenomenological observation (of my mental and bodily experience) is utterly
closed to others except through some crude empirical observations or at a
further remove, through my outward actions eg my testament or my symptoms,
body language etc. (The observation of others inside by means of such
testament or
other unintentional signs is what Daniel Dennett calls
heterophenomenological observation.) In my phenomenological (self)
observation I have been given language and concepts like thought, belief,
desire, etc as the means of self description. Whether I only describe myself
for myself, or for others I must use other's words. Self description and
self observation is mediated by society. A typical description
would employ what Russell called sentences of propositional attitude, eg 'I
think that ROSETTA is set in France.' (How do you film this? And is it true
or false?)

What interests me is the historical development of these words of
phenomenological description, and of the sense and reference of these words.
Like many
things that we have words for, the (empirical) objects that the words refer
to are quite strange. The phenomenological objects SEEM familiar but, as
philosophers have been finding since forever, as soon as we start talking or
thinking about what they are they get very elusive. We seem to have
developed a convenient system of mutually agreed delusory ways of speaking
and describing whatever it is that is going inside ourselves. One
interesting book on this is Paul Griffiths (1997) WHAT
EMOTIONS REALLY ARE.

When it comes to images, I am interested in the way image communication,
especially moving image communication, creates its own pressures for the
development of new kinds of phenomenological and heterophenomenological
description. Moving image technology is much more disembodied than speech
and much less priveleged historically in phenomenological description. Ie
filming an expression of propositional attitude takes a bit of development
of cinematic culture, it is still going to be disembodied from the body of
the 'I,' and voiceover (certainly cinematic but also linguistic) is a
typical solution anyway. (Meanwhile moving image technology is very
privileged in current empirical observation and
description of brain processes and I wonder whether this might ever inform
our phenomenological descriptions.)

I think these matters are very important to cinema style. Those expressions
of propositional attitude that I mentioned above (the eg the sentence about
ROSETTA) bear a very important relation to questions about direct and
indirect quotation and therefore to mimetic and diegetic representation and
direct and indirect style in linguistic narrative. The analogous stylistic
concerns arise in film. I chose the ROSETTA example because (as I think has
been said earlier in the filmphilosophy salon) I think this wonderful film
is remarkable among other things for its modulations of direct and indirect
style - for the way we see and puzzle over Rosetta's experience
phenomenologically, empirically and heterophenomenologically. At various
points we are inside her, outside her, or seeing her inside almost quoted
outside, etc. (I can't wait to see LE FILS).

In a different vein, I saw MALENA (Guiseppe Tournatore) recently on video,
after having casually avoided it on the basis of my unimpressed judgement of
CINEMA PARADISO. I had expected yet another nostalgic
coming-of-age-complete-with-beautiful-older-woman film. Initially I grew
steadily more irritated with the obsessive operatic voyeurism of the boy,
the camera, the townspeople, until I realised that I was becoming fascinated
by the spectacle of such a film. Was the film sharing this voyeurism? I
suspected it was, but that did not stop my being fascinated by the spectacle
of such filmic voyeurism. I also saw what a terribly malicious film this was
about malice. Apart from Malena who was a kind of cipher or
nonphenomenological object of gaze and desire, and apart from her husband,
there was not a single kind thing to be shown about any of the characters.
Even the boy who was the only character with any inner life was also shown
loathsomely. In turn, the malice of the townspeople, and the boy seemed to
be shared by the film. Questions of characters point of view, of cinematic
malice, of authorship and intentionality - all important stylistic questions
and questions about how cinema shows thoughts - made my experience of
MALENA - and the film as a work of art - much more interesting than good old
CINEMA PARADISO.

PS To Kaye

I worry in inner speech, and certain inner images have disturbed me, but
maybe not worried me.

And I think when I do geometry, deduce logical conclusions, balance
equations, write algorithms, plan buildings, cut patterns, read maps,
identify plants, memorize rooms, draw cartoons, video parties, film scenes,
edit movies and of course
watch movies I am thinking in, as well as about, images - but in saying so I
am speaking phenomenologically and therefore, though I may be using the same
words as others, I may not be participating in quite the same reifying self
delusion as others feel/think they are participating in.

Ross