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F I L M - P H I L O S O P H Y
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Vol. 5 No. 26, August 2001
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Warren Buckland
Problem Formation in the Analytic Philosophy of Film
_Film Theory and Philosophy_
Edited by Richard Allen and Murray Smith
Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997; pbk 1999
ISBN 0-19-815921-8 (hbk); 0-19-815988-9 (pbk)
474 pp.
What are the issues that drive a philosophical analysis of film? In this
review I have set myself the task of trying to identify those issues as
formulated by the contributors to Richard Allen and Murray Smith's edited
volume _Film Theory and Philosophy_. But first, I shall say a few words
about the particular approach this book takes, outline my particular
approach in reviewing this book, and then examine the issues discussed in
each chapter.
In the jointly written Introduction, Allen and Smith offer a brief outline
of their philosophical framework -- analytic philosophy, present a detailed
critique of film theory influenced by Continental philosophy (particularly
Althusser and Lacan), and end by discussing the problematic relation
between science and analytic philosophy. Allen and Smith present analytic
philosophy as a non-doctrine based discipline, defined by its method of
argumentation, or reasoning strategies. In addition to disambiguation of
concepts, 'typical strategies for authors in the analytic tradition in
pursuit of logical precision would be the discrimination of strict, logical
implication from implicature (the implied or indirect assertion of a
proposition), and of deductive from inductive and abductive reasoning; the
unearthing of hidden premises . . .; the scrutinizing of an argument for
the presence of circularity, or question-begging; the attention to paradox,
but also to its dissolution . . .; and the discrimination of logical
contradictions from logical contraries' (5). The reader encounters many of
these reasoning strategies throughout the entire volume.
In terms of my reasoning strategies, I shall use Rudolf Botha's
philosophical study into the conduct of inquiry to analyse the way the
various authors in _Film Theory and Philosophy_ formulate conceptual and
empirical problems. [1] I focus on problem formation because I am convinced
by Botha's (and Larry Laudan's [2]) argument that the rationality of a
theory is based on its problem-solving effectiveness. Theories are
important, therefore, to the extent that they provide solutions to
conceptual and empirical problems. Botha focuses on problem formation in
linguistic inquiry, although his analysis is of course applicable to other
fields of research. I have already used Botha's work to analyse the
formation of theoretical problems in film theory -- most notably in my
chapter 'Film Semiotics' in Toby Miller and Robert Stam's edited volume _A
Companion to Film Theory_, [3] as well as in my forthcoming review of
Francesco Casetti's book _Inside the Gaze_. [4] For the sake of the
coherence of this review, I shall reproduce my short summary of Botha's
work as found in my review of Casetti's book before reviewing _Film Theory
and Philosophy_.
Botha lists four activities involved in formulating theoretical problems:
(a) analysing the problematic state of affairs;
(b) describing the problematic state of affairs;
(c) constructing problems; and,
(d) evaluating problems with regard to well-formedness and significance. [5]
This list is based on the distinction between a 'problematic state of
affairs' and 'problems'. Whereas the former refers to an aspect of reality
a theorist does not understand, a problem formulates what a theorist needs
to look for in order to resolve the problematic state of affairs.
In carrying out (a), analysis, the theorist must know exactly what is
problematic, isolate each component of the problematic state of affairs,
determine how they are interrelated, and identify the background
assumptions informing his or her inquiry, such as the nature conferred upon
the object of analysis.
In carrying out (b), description, the problematic state of affairs must be
accurately recorded and formally described. For Botha, this involves three
processes: (i) collecting data; (ii) systematising data; and (iii)
symbolising the results. [6] In collecting data, the theorist must
determine whether the data or the theory generates the problematic state of
affairs. Systematising data involves the activities of classifying,
correlating, and ordering. These activities enable the theorist to identify
common properties among data, put similar data into classes, and determine
the relations between the classes. Finally, symbolising involves
representing data in a concise and accurate manner.
In carrying out (c), constructing problems, the theorist employs several
different concepts (since a problem is made up of concepts). Botha
identifies four types of concept involved in constructing problems (here I
have modified his list to fit film theory): phenomenological concepts,
which concern factual data and are intuitively known; filmic concepts (what
Botha calls grammatical concepts), general background assumptions
concerning the nature of individual films; cinematic concepts (what Botha
calls general linguistic concepts), which concern background assumptions
about the nature of film; and metatheoretical concepts (what Botha calls
metascientific concepts), which concern the aims and nature of theoretical
inquiry. [7]
In carrying out (d), evaluating problems, Botha recognizes that only
problems satisfying the criteria of well-formedness and significance are
relevant problems worth pursuing. A well-formed problem is solvable -- that
is, is based on correct assumptions, and is clearly formulated. A
significant problem is one that expands our existing knowledge of film. A
problem may, therefore, be well-formed, but may not be significant.
Authors do not formulate and write out their theory in the manner made
explicit by Botha's systematic and logical steps; such steps are the
privilege of the philosopher. This adds indeterminacy when analysing any
text in terms of Botha's categories. Furthermore, the stage of theorising I
concentrate on here, the formation of problems, is only one stage -- albeit
one of the most important -- in the development of a theory. Other stages
include: giving descriptions of the object of study, giving explanations,
making projections, justifying hypotheses, and so on. While analysing the
formation of problems in a number of chapters in _Film Theory and
Philosophy_, the reader should bear in mind that each chapter can be
analysed again in terms of other stages in the development of a theory. To
make this review manageable, I have primarily limited myself to the way
authors formulate problems and, furthermore, I have limited myself to half
the chapters, making do with a paragraph summary of the other half. This
decision to analyse some chapters closely and summarise the others is not
necessarily a judgment of quality -- since the editors have done a
remarkable job in commissioning a consistently high standard of chapters.
Instead, some chapters are discussed briefly for reasons of space and time.
Finally, I should add that my aim in reviewing this book is not, in fact,
to pass judgment on the essays. (I shall only make direct evaluative
judgments in terms of Botha's criteria for well-formedness and
significance.) Instead, my aim is more 'object-focused', in that I am more
interested in identifying the various issues or problems that emerge from
the intersection of analytic philosophy and film theory. My aim in this
review is therefore to offer a comprehensive survey of a long (474 pages),
complex, and dense book. I have attempted to read the essays on their own
terms in an attempt to convey to the reader the directions film theory is
currently taking according to the contributors to this book.
Part I: What is Cinematic Representation?
_Film Theory and Philosophy_ contains 19 chapters divided among 5 parts.
Part I: What is Cinematic Representation? contains chapters by Gregory
Currie, Kendall Walton, Richard Allen, and Edward Branigan.
In 'The Film Theory that Never Was: A Nervous Manifesto', Gregory Currie
outlines the philosophical starting point for film theory by listing a
series of questions, and then summarises the results of his work to date
that answers some of those questions.
(a) Analysing the problematic state of affairs. Currie outlines several
types of interrelated questions that identify problematic states of affairs
for film theory to tackle, organised from the general to the specific --
questions about: 1. film's nature; 2. modes of filmic representation; 3.
standard types of engagement with film; 4. the individuation of filmic
elements and their connections; 5. film production; 6. film kinds (grouping
by genre, author, etc.); 7. film style; 8. individual films. Answers to
these questions will constitute a philosophy of film, which Currie
conceives as a grand theory (in opposition to David Bordwell and Noel
Carroll's call for piecemeal theorising).
(b) Describing the problematic state of affairs. Currie presents in summary
form his answers to questions 1, 3, and 6. And because he focuses on the
results of his reasoning, more than the way he formulated problems, then
much of his essay falls into a later realm of theorising, namely giving
descriptions and explanations.
In relation to question 1, Currie argues that film is a realistic moving
picture, that we literally perceive movement on screen, rather than an
illusion of movement. He then qualifies this proposition to argue that we
perceive apparent (non-illusory) motion. In terms of realism, Currie argues
that film images present a likeness of the objects represented, and that
spectators comprehend images in the same way they comprehend objects,
although of course he acknowledges the many differences between images and
objects. His theory of film realism simply posits a common property between
an object and an image of that object. He also argues that individual shots
depict space and time realistically.
Further, Currie argues that few conventions, understood as arbitrary rules,
are involved in the comprehension of films (51), leading him to argue that
genres are not governed by arbitrary conventions, a partial answer to
question 6. In another response to question 6, Currie defends the concept
of author intentionality for it is useful in understanding what stories are
told in films (enabling the theorist to classify them) and how spectators
comprehend films (54).
The issue of how spectators react to films (question 3) is the final part
of Currie's theory outlined in this chapter. He summarises his theory of
impersonal imagining in film viewing, in which the film spectator 'imagines
the events of the fiction taking place, but does not imagine being in
specific spatio-temporal relations to those events . . . What I deny is
that the standard mode of audience role-play in film watching consists in
playing the role of someone who is seeing those events as they happen'
(55). Currie gives an example: 'the film viewer imagines Marion being
attacked in the shower, but does not imagine being there in the shower to
share the experience' (55). He compares and contrasts his theory of
impersonal imagining with Kendall Walton's theory of fiction as
make-believe, in which fiction is compared to games of pretence that
children play. Currie agrees that fiction can be understood as
make-believe, but argues that Walton's theory involves personal imagining,
of the individual being involved with the make-believe. (The distinction
between personal and impersonal imagining is taken up again by Murray Smith
in his contribution to Part V.)
Currie ends by arguing that it is empirically decidable whether film
spectators engage in personal or impersonal imagining, and suggests that
research into autism can aid research into imaginative engagement with
fiction films.
(c) Constructing problems. Question 8, about individual films, and question
3, about standard types of engagement with film, rely on phenomenological
concepts, whereas the other questions rely on filmic and cinematic
concepts. Furthermore, Currie favors theories that stick close to everyday,
intuitive, common sense understanding (and he approvingly cites the
philosophy of G. E. Moore (45)). The more abstract a theoretical concept,
the more unreliable it is. In terms of metatheoretical concepts, Currie
defends a grand theory approach to theorising, because 'a theory that is
strongly integrated across the domain of film and strongly linked to
successful work in other areas will be better -- more simple, coherent, and
therefore more credible -- than a bunch of disparate theories isolated from
other branches of knowledge' (43). Currie also justifies the philosophical
approach to these questions because many of them (study of essence,
representation, kinds of film, etc.) are philosophical questions from the
outset, and successful answers will depend on sound philosophical reasoning.
(d) Evaluating problems. At the beginning of his essay Currie states: 'What
I aim to do here is to offer an absurdly ambitious conception of what an
analytical philosophy of film would look like if it took seriously the aim
of constructing a systematic and globally connected theory' (43). Because
of the scope of his manifesto, Currie's work has a potentially huge
significance for film theory, for it aims to reformulate old questions and
provide new answers. The individual theoretical questions he asks are also
well-formed, although the ambition to interrelate them into a new grand
theory means that, taken together, they will be difficult to solve.
In 'On Pictures and Photographs: Objections Answered', Kendall L. Walton
summarizes his theory of depiction in images, and then addresses Gregory
Currie's and Noel Carroll's responses to his theory. For Walton, images are
props in visual games of make-believe: 'By this I mean, in part, that in
looking at a picture the spectator imagines seeing what it portrays' (60).
He then gives an example: 'seeing a picture of an ox involves thinking of
oneself as looking at an ox. We can put this by saying that one *imagines*
seeing an ox, as one looks at the picture' (61). Walton then challenges
Currie's theory of impersonal imagining (61-65) and Carroll's objections to
the concepts of make-believe and imagining seeing to explain pictorial
representation (65-66). Walton ends by defending his theory of the
transparency of photographic pictures (67-72).
In 'Looking at Motion Pictures' Richard Allen addresses the paradox common
to the four types of causal theory of perception and then argues that, by
abandoning these causal theories the paradox they create simply dissolves.
Allen is therefore using the reasoning strategies of analytic philosophy
(especially the later Wittgenstein) to show that the problematic state of
affairs is created by faulty reasoning, not by the object of study.
(a) Analysing the problematic state of affairs. Allen's essay is
distinctive in that it is explicitly based on identifying what is
problematic in traditional causal theories of perception -- identifying the
background assumptions behind these theories, and determining how these
background assumptions generate problematic states of affairs. Allen begins
by asking: 'What is it we see when we look at a motion picture?' (76), and
then argues that such a question depends on a more fundamental question, of
what we understand by the activity of seeing. Philosophical inquiry into
this question has traditionally been dominated by causal theories of
perception, which define seeing as 'a form of experience, a perceptual one,
that is caused by the presence of the object in front of one's eyes' (76).
Causal theories, Allen argues, lead to a paradox when describing how one
perceives pictures, because the perceiver commonly reports on seeing, not
the picture, but what the picture depicts.
(b) Describing the problematic state of affairs. In terms of systematising
data, Allen has systematically identified all the main causal theories of
perception, identified their background assumptions and diagnosed their
flaws. Here I shall systematise his work further.
Allen argues that visual theorists have developed four causal theories to
overcome the paradox of what we perceive when looking at a picture:
1. Illusion theory (dominant in Continental film theory), in which a
picture causes the perceiver to have the same visual experience to the
experience generated by the absent objects depicted. It attempts to
overcome the paradox by arguing that we see the object a picture depicts
because we see an illusion of that object.
2. Transparency theory (common in the classical film theory of Bazin,
Kracauer, and Cavell, as well as in Kendal Walton's work), in which the
photographic image makes objects present via photographic reproduction. It
attempts to overcome the paradox by arguing that we see the object a
picture depicts because what we see is the object itself.
3. Imagination theory (Walton) argues that we do not see what a picture
depicts, although a picture enables us to *imagine* seeing what it depicts.
It attempts to overcome the paradox by arguing that we do not see the
depicted object, but only imagine that we see what the picture is of.
4. Recognition theory (Noel Carroll) also argues that we do not see the
depicted object. However, it attempts to overcome the paradox by arguing
that we only see a disposition of shapes and colors on a flat surface,
which nonetheless afford us a recognition of what it depicts.
For Allen, all these theories are mistaken. Their causal background
assumptions lead them to posit a causal link between the perceiver and a
physical object. (Allen nonetheless finds value in Walton's transparency
thesis, after it is shorn of its causal background assumptions (92).)
Allen's solution is to argue that: 'we require an understanding of seeing
pictures that, contrary to imagination and recognition theorists, respects
the fact that seeing what a picture is of is a genuine case of seeing,
without commitment to the idea that what we see is the object itself or an
illusion of it' (77). The result is that we no longer need to think of the
object of sight as a physical object, which then dissolves the paradox, for
the perception of pictures is no longer understood to be a problem that
needs to be solved.
(c) Constructing problems. Allen does not so much construct problems, as
dissolve them. This leads him to propose a radical metatheoretical solution
to the analysis of what we perceive when looking at motion pictures:
'abandoning the causal theory of perception does not simply involve
relinquishing *a* theory of motion picture perception, it involves the
abandonment of film theory itself as the route to understanding what it is
we see when we look at motion pictures' (78).
(d) Evaluating problems. Allen uses the reasoning strategies of analytic
philosophy to argue that the problem or paradox that has beset causal
theories of perception is not a genuine philosophical problem. Abandoning
causal theories of perception leads to the dissolution of the problem. In
Botha's terms, Allen would say that the problem is not well formed or
significant, and Allen's purpose in his essay is to demonstrate this point
through reasoned argumentation.
In 'Sound, Epistemology, Film', Edward Branigan investigates the physics
and phenomenology of sound and light in order to determine, in an exact and
exhausting manner, the perceptual and material similarities and differences
between sound and image in the cinema. Branigan begins by asking a number
of epistemological questions that address problems about the relation
between light and sound:
'Is sound less closely tied to the Kantian category of substance than
vision? If so, what presuppositions about sound direct our search for
knowledge from the visual features of film? May these presuppositions be
altered to change our perception of the relationship between sound and
light? More generally, how do we expect sound to be of use to us in
describing the world and in imagining a real world through the fictional
depictions of a film? How does sound relate to the structures of language?'
(96).
Although both sound and image have the same physical basis in wave motion,
sound appears to be transitory and contingent, while light appears to be
more permanent and bound to material objects, which accounts for the
traditional privileging of image over sound. One of Branigan's main
arguments is to overcome this traditional way of thinking about sound, by
rethinking the relation among sound, motion, space, and time.
Part II: Meaning, Authorship, and Intentions contains chapters by Paisley
Livingston, Berys Gaut, Noel Carroll, Trevor Ponech, and George Wilson.
In 'Cinematic Authorship' Paisley Livingston addresses the problem of
whether the concept of authorship can be applied to the -- especially
commercial -- cinema. The first problem is one of an agreed definition, and
Livingston offers a broad definition relying on the understanding of an
author as a rational agent who expresses or communicates an intended
meaning (134). The next problem is to apply this intentionalist definition
of author to mass-produced commercial films, which are -- to a greater or
lesser extent -- still unique films. The issue is to identify an author
from the numerous makers of or contributors to a commercial film.
Livingston presents four thought experiments, or hypothetical cases
studies, of the different power relations that can operate between
different agents in film making as a way of distinguishing makers from
authors.
In 'Film Authorship and Collaboration' Berys Gaut also takes up the issue
of authorship in the cinema, and proposes that it can only be understood in
terms of multiple authorship.
(a) Analysing the problematic state of affairs. Like Livingston, Gaut
argues that the everyday, intuitive understanding of 'film authorship' is
too vague. He then diagnoses its problematic state of affairs, and
formulates a number of problems. In terms of problematic state of affairs,
Gaut writes: 'It has been held that the film author is the director, the
screenwriter, the star, or the studio; that the film author is an actual
individual, or a critical construct; that there is not one film author, but
several; the claim of film authorship has been held primarily as an
evaluative one, or an interpretative one, or simply as the view that there
are authors of film as there are authors of literary works' (149). There
are two problems to address: firstly, to determine whether these various
theories are drawing on some core truths, or whether there is no truth in
the concept of film authorship, and each successive theory is simply based
on a foundation of (hot) air and rhetoric. Secondly, if there is some truth
to the concept of film authorship, how can we identify singular authorship
in a film? Gaut rejects the concept of single film authorship and argues
for multiple authorship in mainstream cinema.
(b) Describing the problematic state of affairs. In terms of systematising
data, Gaut identifies five basic 'ingredients' or concepts of film
authorship, with sub-categories: 1. The kind of claim auteur criticism
makes, divided into three sub-categories: a. existential claim (that film
authors exist), b. hermeneutic claim (films can be interpreted by relating
them to their makers), and c. evaluative claim (auteur criticism aims to
evaluate films). 2. The ontology of the author, divided into: a. actual
persons, or b. critical constructs. 3. Authors and artists, divided into:
a. the author is an artist, or b. a literal author. 4. Occupiers of the
authorial role: a. directors, b. screenwriters, c. stars, and d. producers.
5. Number of authors: a. single authorship, or b. multiple authorship. Any
particular auteur theory can be characterised by specific combinations of
these basic concepts -- and Gaut argues that there are in total 180
possible combinations (169 n. 13).
(c) Constructing problems. Gaut attempts to dispel the intuitive,
phenomenological understanding of film authorship. In terms of filmic
concepts, he argues that some films are works of art (and are therefore
made by artists). In terms of more general cinematic concepts, he argues
that mainstream cinema is inherently a collaborative medium.
(d) Evaluating problems. Gaut's chapter is extremely well-formed, for it
clearly identifies the problematic state of affairs surrounding the concept
of film authorship, identifies two main problems to solve, systematises the
concepts surrounding film authorship by breaking it down into its basic
components, and then offers a solution to the problems (multiple
authorship). Furthermore, because the idea of the film author is a
long-standing issue in film studies, Gaut's chapter is significant for it
clarifies this idea and furthers our understanding of it.
In 'Fiction, Non-fiction, and the Film of Presumptive Assertion: A
Conceptual Analysis', Noel Carroll argues that the term 'documentary' is
too narrow to define the current practices of films we attribute the label
'documentary', and that the term 'non-fiction film' is too broad. He
proposes the concept of the 'film of presumptive assertion' as an
alternative.
(a) Analysing the problematic state of affairs. For Carroll, the commonly
accepted definition of documentary (by Grierson) is no longer applicable to
current 'documentary' practices. Rather than stretch the meaning of the
word 'documentary', Carroll thinks we need a new term: 'we find ourselves
in a situation where we have, on the one hand, the relatively precise
notion of the documentary that Grierson has bequeathed us, and, on the
other hand, another more ambiguous idea [about current 'documentary'
practices]. This at the very least courts confusion. I propose to relieve
that confusion by granting Grierson his definition for what he was talking
about and by introducing a new concept for what we wish to speak about'
(174). Carroll then rejects the label 'non-fiction film' because it is too
broad. His label, the 'film of presumptive assertion', is a sub-category of
the non-fiction film. This in turn requires that the distinction between
fiction and non-fiction be clearly defined and upheld.
(b) Describing the problematic state of affairs. Carroll's essay consists
of a conceptual analysis of the fiction/non-fiction distinction (which he
defends against the Continental film theorists' assertion that this
distinction is no longer valid), and a definition of 'the film of
presumptive assertion'.
After describing the problematic state of affairs, Carroll begins to solve
them, by adopting Paul Grice's pragmatic theory of meaning, which is based
on authorial intentions (which, in film studies, translates into the
film-maker indicating to spectators how they are intended to respond to his
or her film, and spectators recognising that intention). With a fiction
film, spectators are intended to respond to the film in such as way as to
understand the content to be unasserted (that is, to comprehend them as
suppositions). For non-fiction films, Carroll simply reverses the
proposition: spectators should not understand the film's content to be
unasserted; that is, spectators should not comprehend non-fiction films
suppositionally.
Carroll then defines films of presumptive assertion. Simply put, spectators
are intended to comprehend the content of these films as asserted.
Moreover, 'I call them films of *presumptive* assertion not only because
the audience presumes that it is to entertain the propositional content of
such a film as asserted, but also because such films may lie. That is, they
are presumed to involve assertion even in cases where the film-maker is
intentionally dissimulating at the same time that he is signalling an
assertoric intention' (187). Carroll then briefly contrasts films of
presumptive assertion with what he calls films of presumptive trace
(188-91), a subset of films of presumptive assertion in which every image
is an authentic document or trace of its content. This term is therefore
close to Grierson's meaning of documentary, and is too narrow to cover
current 'documentary' practices, which may involve staging, re-enactments,
animation, and so on. Hence, Carroll prefers the term 'films of presumptive
assertion' because such films are not always based on authentic documents
or historical traces, but are defined by the film-maker's assertoric
intention.
Finally, Carroll practices an additional stage of theorising -- the
justification of his ideas. In particular, he justifies his reliance on the
concept of intentionality, of maintaining the fiction/non-fiction
distinction, and for asserting that films of presumptive assertion are
necessarily objective.
(c) Constructing problems. Carroll argues that the everyday, intuitive
(phenomenological) understanding of documentary and non-fiction film-making
is too vague. His chapter operates on the level of cinematic concepts to
offer a rigorous definition of a major film-making practice. In terms of
metatheoretical concepts, Carroll implicitly generates his argument and
identifies problems by means of 'The Topics' (as do a number of authors in
_Film Theory and Philosophy_). The topics name a grid for generating
arguments, a system that classical rhetoricians devised to help find
something to say. Topics enable the writer or speaker to conduct a
conceptual analysis of the subject under discussion. Definition is one of
the common topics for conducting a conceptual analysis of any subject
matter.
(d) Evaluating problems. As one would expect from Carroll, he clearly
diagnoses the problematic state of affairs in current thinking about film,
and formulates well-formed problems. Moreover, because he is analysing and
revising current thinking on a major category of films, his essay also has
significance, although it is difficult to assess at this stage whether his
ideas will actually change current academic thinking on documentary film,
and whether his commitment to objectivity (and intentionality) will be
accepted -- or, indeed, whether the unwieldy term 'films of presumptive
assertion' will catch on.
In 'What is Non-fiction Cinema?' Trevor Ponech aims to specify 'what it is
that causes a movie to be non-fiction' (203). His approach is very similar
to Carroll's, to the extent that he makes almost identical points and
develops the same arguments concerning non-fiction films. For example:
'A cinematic work is non-fiction if and only if its maker so intends it'
(204). 'Documentaries . . . are cinematic assertions, naturally meaningful
images being among the elements employed by the communicator toward
assertive ends' (205). 'In asserting that something or other is the case,
cinematic agents typically expect audiences -- employing a combination of
perceptually derived beliefs about the depiction, non-perceptual beliefs
and background knowledge, and inferences -- to arrive at particular
cognitions regarding not only what is shown on the screen but also how
things stand in the world' (207). '[T]he difference between fiction and
non-fiction is one of force, not of style, form, or content' (216).
Ponech's chapter begins to differ from Carroll's when it introduces two
main strategies of non-fiction film-making, which are distinguished on the
basis of the degree of control the film-maker exercises over their subject
matter: 'distinguishing between Type I and Type II non-fictions reflects
the intuition that there are genuine if not radical differences between,
for instance, works of observational cinema and more theatrical
documentaries' (217). Ponech ends by justifying his adherence to author
intentionality (although he is in good company in _Film Theory and
Philosophy_). The main problem with this chapter is that, although Ponech
developed it independently of Carroll's chapter, it says much the same
things, and the discussion of different types of film is underdeveloped,
and certainly does not challenge the far more sophisticated taxonomy of
types of documentary developed by others, such as Bill Nichols.
In 'On Film Narrative and Narrative Meaning' George Wilson focuses on the
distinction David Bordwell draws between comprehending film and the
interpretive activity of explicative criticism, which analyses a film's
implicit meanings. Through the analysis of a scene from Nicholas Ray's
_Bigger than Life_ (1956), Wilson challenges the viability of Bordwell's
distinction. One of the major problems with Bordwell's proposal, for
Wilson, is that implicit meanings are not limited to the act of
interpretation, but are part of the activity of comprehending a film as
well: 'explicative interpretation is a natural, although sometimes more
sophisticated, extension of familiar and absolutely basic strategies by
means of which typical audiences comprehend a movie' (234). This is because
the spectator's main activity in watching a movie, according to Wilson, is
to identify and construct a pattern of explanatory, causal connections to
assess characters' actions.
Part III: Ideology and Ethics contains chapters by Jennifer Hammett, Hector
Rodriguez, and Tommy Lott.
In 'The Ideological Impediment: Epistemology, Feminism, and Film Theory',
Jennifer Hammett analyses the consequences of the feminist film theorists'
problematising of representation as an alienating illusion. She then
proposes this to be a false problem.
(a) Analysing the problematic state of affairs. The problematic state of
affairs Hammett identifies lies at the heart of feminist film theory. The
premise of feminist film theory is that, like language and other forms of
discourse, cinematic representations are ideological constructions that
naturalise patriarchal ideology. One dominant issue to emerge from this
theory is, therefore, how to evade patriarchal ideology. The two dominant
responses -- an appeal to the radical potential of developing critical
distance (the idealist route), and an appeal to authentic, everyday reality
(the realist or essentialist route) -- both 'assume that our embeddedness
in language and representation matters' (245). Hammett finds this
assumption to be in error and, in accordance with the agenda of analytic
philosophy, she argues that '[o]nce we abandon the premise that our
embeddedness in language matters, then the need to escape that embeddedness
-- to achieve a neutral encounter with phenomena -- simply disappears'
(246). She then adds: 'If I am right, feminists can give up the
epistemological ambition of feminist film theory, and pursue feminist
critical and political goals unencumbered by fears of the alienating
effects of representation' (246).
(b) Describing the problematic state of affairs. Hammett collects her
'evidence' by outlining the position of two key feminist film theorists,
Mary Ann Doane and Christine Gledhill. She then orders their work under the
headings 'idealism' and 'realism'/'essentialism' respectively.
(c) Constructing problems. As with Richard Allen's contribution, Hammett
does not so much construct problems, as use the methods of analytic
philosophy to dissolve theory and the problems it raises. Hammett's
contribution to feminist analysis is to recommend a shift in focus from
cinematic concepts to filmic concepts (from a feminist theory of 'the
cinema' to a feminist critique of individual films, for the general issue
of representation is not a problem per se).
(d) Evaluating problems. Hammett dissolves problems, and so we need to
evaluate the problems she dissolves. She argues that the problem dominating
feminist film theory -- how to escape patriarchal ideology (plus the two
solutions: an idealist and a realist one) -- is not well formed or
significant: 'In searching for a feminist response to the reign of
representation, feminist film theory has been pursuing a futile and
pointless goal' (257).
In 'Ideology and Film Culture' Hector Rodriguez challenges the standard
definition of ideology as false consciousness (a view Noel Carroll
upholds), in which ideology consists of erroneous propositions. The problem
with this standard definition for Rodriguez is that it assumes ideology
simply consists of propositions that can be empirically tested, and that
challenging someone's ideological beliefs is simply a matter of presenting
to them factual information that falsifies those ideological propositions.
This empirical view of ideology does not sufficiently encompass what it
means to hold ideological beliefs: 'Evidence will often fail to convince
because factual information is not a necessary ground of ideological belief
. . . The underlying assumption here is that a belief can be rationally
evaluated without taking into account its place within a field of human
practices and concerns' (262-63). To challenge someone's ideological
beliefs requires a more fundamental transformation -- of how they perceive,
feel, make choices, act, and live. In other words, ideology is a moral
issue, rather than an issue in inductive reasoning, and Rodriguez uses the
term 'moral picture' to capture his sense of ideology as morally
unjustifiable (268). He then conducts a short analysis of _The Wind and the
Lion_ (John Millius, 1975), a film that 'invites us to see colonial history
in terms of a moral picture that endeavours to legitimize [Millius's]
country's foreign policy by idealizing military conquest as the expression
of an existential confrontation with risk and death [and which]
systematically overlooks the patterns of systematic exploitation and abuse
imposed on colonized peoples, as well as the economic institutions and
interests that encourage and subsidize military expansion' (277). For
Rodriguez, therefore, ideological film analysis 'brings out the [moral]
pictures that undergird a certain pattern of social and political
commitment, so as to reveal something morally undesirable about those
pictures and that commitment' (277).
In 'Aesthetics and Politics in Contemporary Black Film Theory' Tommy Lott
diagnoses a number of problems in black film theory, problems caused by its
reliance on the premises of Continental film theory, namely: black film
theory's conflation of film aesthetics and ideology, and its automatic
critique of commercially produced black Hollywood films and automatic
valorisation of black independent films. Lott then relates these two
problems: 'A too rigid distinction between studio-produced and independent
black films has often been a source of confusion regarding the aesthetic
value of films that have been produced by both groups of film-makers'
(283). Lott argues that '[t]he growing number of Hollywood movies by
independent black film-makers seems to demand a more nuanced black film
commentary than the standard critique of Hollywood that was fostered by
earlier blaxploitation era films' (283). Lott reviews the paradigms upheld
to define black cinema (Third cinema, the films of Melvin Van Peebles),
plus the critical methods of analysis, particularly reception studies. Lott
argues that the reception studies approach to black spectators is
insufficient in itself to determine the political and aesthetic value of
(particularly studio made) black films. Like may contributors to _Film
Theory and Philosophy_, he advocates that the intentions of the film-maker
override audience response.
Part IV: Aesthetics contains essays by Peter Kivy, Flo Leibowitz, and
Deborah Knight.
In 'Music in the Movies: A Philosophical Enquiry', Peter Kivy begins by
arguing that film music has its roots in eighteenth century melodrama
(spoken drama with musical accompaniment in the background). From this
historical beginning, he identifies a problem: in silent film, music served
a melodramatic function by filling the vacuum of silence. But with the
advent of talking pictures, musical accompaniment continued beyond its
obvious function of filling the silence: 'My question -- the question of
this chapter -- is *why* the music plays on when the sound comes in? If the
filmic function of music, in the silent era, is to fill the vacuum left by
the total absence of expressive sound, why does it outlast its function
when the full resources of expressive sound fill that vacuum in the era of
the talking picture?' (314). Kivy answers that a gap still exists in the
film after the introduction of speech, a gap that music attempts to fill.
He identifies these gaps as subtle cues of human emotive expressions that
film cannot capture, but which music offers a substitute (322).
In 'Personal Agency Theories of Expressiveness and the Movies' Flo
Leibowitz examines three theories of expressiveness -- by Richard Wollheim,
Bruce Vermazen, and Stephen Davies -- and then considers their relevance
for developing a theory of film expressiveness. She spends a lot of time on
Wollheim and Vermazen before rejecting them, and then turns to Davies's
theory of expressiveness in music as the most relevant for film. For
Davies, it is not the composer who is expressive, but the sound of the
music itself. Intentionality is therefore attributed to the music, not to a
personal agent. Leibowitz find this to be a suitable theory of
expressiveness in film.
In 'Aristotelians on _Speed_: Paradoxes of Genre in the Context of Cinema',
Deborah Knight analyses the consumption of popular genres. In particular,
she diagnoses a paradox that Carroll has formulated in relation to the
consumption of popular genres as an ill-formed paradox. She then addresses
the 'paradoxical' state of affairs that Carroll analysed and describes it
differently.
(a) Analysing the problematic state of affairs. The problematic state of
affairs Knight analyses has already been formulated into a problem by Noel
Carroll: Is the behaviour of spectators watching genre movies rational? The
premise of this problem or paradox, for Carroll, is that, because
spectators know the genre formulas, they will already know the formulaic
stories in genre films (and in pulp fiction). So why watch them?
(b) Describing the problematic state of affairs. As well as collecting data
from Carroll's essay, Knight analyses several popular genres and films, and
focuses on the action film _Speed_ (Jan de Bont, 1994). Carroll solves his
own paradox by arguing that, although genre texts are completely
predictable, spectators instead consume them primarily on the level of
plot, by anticipating what will happen next. Knight argues that Carroll's
paradox is ill-formed because no genre film is completely predictable and
cannot, therefore, be reduced to its generic formula. An adequate theory of
consumption of genre films should combine the spectator's expectations set
up by genre formulas as well as the way the spectator anticipates future
actions on the basis of the canonical story format. Neither are completely
predictable, and so both actively contribute to the consumption of genre
films.
(c) Constructing problems. Both Knight and Carroll are centrally concerned
with the relation between filmic concepts (the individual genre film) and
cinematic concepts (or at least the cinematic as divided into several
genres), although each relate the filmic to the cinematic differently.
Furthermore, the 'paradox' they focus on is phenomenological to the extent
that their main object of study is the consumer's everyday experience of
genre fiction.
(d) Evaluating problems. Knight has already judged Carroll's paradox to be
ill-formed, although she thinks it is a significant problem because she
reformulates it and addresses it herself.
Part V: Emotional Response, the final part of the book, contains papers by
Carl Plantinga, Dirk Eitzen, Murray Smith, and Malcolm Turvey.
In 'Notes on Spectator Emotion and Ideological Film Criticism' Carl
Plantinga addresses the issue of emotion in ideological film criticism, and
considers two examples: sentimentality, and emotions that accompany screen
violence. He first clears the conceptual groundwork by critiquing
ideological film criticism as developed within Continental film theory,
particularly its suspicion of all emotions elicited by mainstream cinema (a
suspicion fostered through Bertolt Brecht), and its ideological formalism,
in which particular filmic techniques are conceived to inherently embody
ideological or progressive political effects. The main problem here is not
only determinism, but also that film content is not taken into account.
Plantinga takes a more piecemeal approach to film emotions, by arguing that
only some emotions elicited by mainstream films are ideologically
suspicious. He therefore challenges the determinism of Continental film
theory, and defends a cognitive theory of emotions. He formulates these
issues into a problem in the following sentence: 'It is curious, then, that
film theory has tended to neglect 'content' in its descriptions of
spectator response, and has failed to theorize the place of cognition in
spectator emotion' (379). Later he brings into focus the issue of the
cognitive theory of emotion: 'The relevant issues then become not how films
determine spectator response but what spectators bring to a film that
influences their response, and how contextual factors delimit spectator
responses and interpretations' (382).
In examining sentimentality and violence, Plantinga attempts to work out
the relations among cognition, emotion, and ideology. Although
inconclusive, his discussion attempts to avoid determinism by arguing that
emotions do not in themselves necessarily embody any particular ideological
position (384), and therefore that emotions such as sentiment can be used
for beneficial or questionable ideological ends. In terms of violence on
screen, the issue is not so much the violence itself, but the emotional
involvement with that violence that spectators are encouraged to experience.
In 'Comedy and Classicism' Dirk Eitzen reassesses Bordwell, Staiger and
Thompson's model of classical Hollywood cinema [8] and seeks to refine it,
for it does not take into consideration the role and popularity of comedy
in classical Hollywood. In particular, Eitzen questions the centrality of a
psychologically-motivated cause-effect narrative logic in Bordwell, Staiger
and Thompson's model, and argues that this model needs to be revised to
take into account the counter-current of comedic elements such as gags,
exaggerated behaviour, and parody. In an argument similar to the one
Deborah Knight formulated against Carroll, Eitzen argues that spectators do
not go to the cinema simply to experience a narrative and to solve its
problems. Narrative causality is merely a means to an end -- to generate
emotions in spectators. To ignore this end is a fatal flaw in
(particularly) Bordwell's cognitive theory of film narrative. Referring to
a study by the neurophysiologist Antonio Damasio, [9] Eitzen proposes that
Bordwell implicitly posits film spectators as psychologically damaged, as
spectators who are unable to comprehend emotions (406-7). In Eitzen's
account, it seems that Bordwell has constructed a hypothetical spectator
analogous to the one posited by Continental film theorists, for whom the
film spectator is inflicted with 'deviant' sexual behaviour such as
voyeurism and fetishism. Of course, it is also possible to argue that
Bordwell recognised the importance of emotions in film viewing at the
outset, but delimited the scope of his research in order to make it
manageable. Eitzen is questioning whether Bordwell's artificial separation
of cognition from emotion fatally distorts the study of spectatorship in
the cinema.
In 'Imagining from the Inside' Murray Smith develops and refines his idea
of 'central imagining' (a form of imagining from the inside of a fiction)
as presented in his book _Engaging Characters_, [10] in light of the
development and critique of this or similar concepts by other film scholars
(most notably Gregory Currie).
(a) Analysing the problematic state of affairs. Smith begins by analysing a
scene from _Dead Calm_ (Phillip Noyce, 1989), noting that the scene had a
physical effect on him, a 'visceral flinching' (412). The problematic state
of affairs Smith identifies from this experience have to do with the power
of cinema to create such an experience. He then formulates two questions
that address the problems he pursues in this chapter: 'what is the place of
imagining a character 'from the inside' in engaging with a fiction? And,
what is the function of POV [point-of-view], and other striking devices
like sudden movements and loud noises, with respect to imagining a
character's experience 'from the inside' in our engagement with cinematic
fictions?' (412-13). In effect, the problem Smith addresses is the relation
between textual structures (such as POV sequences) and psychological
processes such as imagining.
(b) Describing the problematic state of affairs. Smith collects data from
several film examples (especially POV sequences) and from his own intuitive
reaction to these examples. He then systematises his data by introducing a
number of conceptual distinctions, which serve to describe the data in a
more adequate manner than has previously been described using other
concepts (most notably, the concept of 'identification' with characters).
Smith defines imagination as the film spectator's inferential activity, in
which we simulate either the beliefs and emotions of characters, or beliefs
about the fictional characters and events. The first activity defines
central imagining (in which we imagine experiencing the fictional events
from within a character's perspective) and the second acentral imagining
(in which we simply imagine that something occurs in the fiction, outside a
character's perspective). In terms of emotion, central imagining offers an
imagined, self-directed emotion, and acentral imagining an imagined,
other-directed emotion (426). Smith argues that both types of
imagining/emotion are important in engaging with film characters, in which
central imagining is framed by, or assimilated into, acentral imagining.
The above will be familiar to readers of _Engaging Characters_. One major
problem in the book that Smith now addresses is that he treated textual
structures and psychological processes as identical. In this chapter he
concedes that 'certain kinds of textual structure may foster or predispose
us to imagine in one way rather than another, as distinct from determining
the nature of our imaginative response' (416). In other words, he now
posits a contingent relation between textual structures and psychological
processes. He also clarifies the relation between central imagining and the
concepts of simulation, mimicry, and autonomic responses (416-17).
In terms of POV shots, Smith privileges them because they 'promote central
imagining as a part of a larger structure of multifaceted alignment' (417)
(where 'multifaceted alignment' refers to a spectator's multiple access to
a character -- not only by seeing what they see, but by seeing how they
react). Gregory Currie develops a similar distinction between central and
acentral imagining -- namely, the distinction between personal and
impersonal imagining respectively, [11] except that he downplays the
significance of personal imagining and textual devices such as POV shots
(as we saw in Currie's paper at the beginning of _Film Theory and
Philosophy_). Smith contests Currie's privileging of impersonal over
personal imagining.
(c) Constructing problems. Firstly, Smith relies on phenomenological
concepts, to the extent that his data partly consists of the experience of
watching films. He also relies on cinematic concepts to the extent that he
focuses on spectators' experiences of general cinematic structures such as
POV shots, and how those general structures give spectators access to the
experience and emotions of fictional characters.
(d) Evaluating problems. Character identification is a major issue in the
study of narrative film, making Smith's critical analysis and replacement
of the concept of 'identification' a significant problem. Smith's
distinctions in _Engaging Characters_ are logical and internally
consistent, organised around clear distinctions such as 'empathy/sympathy',
central/acentral imagining', and 'recognition/alignment/allegiance', which
means that his theory is well-formed. In this chapter he clarifies his
concepts and defends them in light of Currie's work.
In 'Seeing Theory: On Perception and Emotional Response in Current Film
Theory', Malcolm Turvey presents a 'fundamentalist' Wittgensteinian
critique of Carroll's and Smith's theories of visual perception. The
chapter is in many ways an extension of Richard Allen's chapter on looking
at motion pictures. The main problem with Carroll's and Smith's theories,
at least according to Turvey, is that they postulate an unnecessary entity
-- thought or imagination -- between the spectator and the film, because of
the theory of perception they adopt. The result is that the spectator's
physical perception of and emotional reaction to film images is downplayed,
and instead this mediating entity takes precedence. In other words, for
Carroll and Smith spectators respond to an abstract mental entity, not to
the film itself. Following Wittgenstein, Turvey critiques their
psychological/mentalist theories of seeing. According to Wittgenstein, no
theory of the imagination or mental interpretation is required to explain
standard visual experience, because we directly see the objects. Similarly,
Turvey argues that film theorists do not need to posit the existence of the
imagination or mental interpretation to explain standard visual experience
of images, because we directly see the objects in the images:
'When confronted by an unambiguous image of a lion or any other object, the
beholder does not behave as if he is subjectively interpreting the material
properties of the image that he objectively perceives . . . Consequently,
the aspect which we see in an image cannot be a mental entity, an indirect,
subjective interpretation supplied by the mind of the beholder following
the direct perception of the material properties of the image. It is not
something we *think*. Rather, it is something that beholders *see* directly
and instantaneously *in* images' (447-8).
Turvey concludes that his critique does not entail an outright rejection of
Carroll's and Smith's theories, merely a modification of them:
'Rather than 'entertaining' the 'imagination' or 'thought' produced in the
spectator's mind by the concrete cinematic representation and then
responding emotionally to it, the spectator can directly 'entertain' and
respond emotionally to the concrete cinematic representation of the
fictional referent. He has the capacity to do so because he *regards* the
concrete cinematic representation *as* the fictional referent it
represents' (456).
In Conclusion
Film theory is no longer under the sway of Continental theory, for it
unapologetically adheres to concepts such as likeness, intentionality
agency, expression, cognitivism, the fiction/non-fiction distinction, film
content, and emotional response, while debunking concepts such as illusion,
deception, the 'death of the author', Brechtian alienation effect, subject
positioning, identification, and the unconscious. It also asks more
fundamental questions such as: What in itself is the act of seeing? (before
considering the ideological or patriarchal meanings of looking). How do
light and sound differ on the physical and phenomenological levels? Why do
talking films require musical accompaniment? On a number of occasions the
contributors to _Film Theory and Philosophy_ also fundamentally challenge
the very act of theorising 'objects' such as 'looking' and
'representation', and they are not afraid to spell out the limitations of
their research or to revise, reformulate, or reject their previous
positions. In terms of constructing problems, a number of chapters focus on
metatheoretical concepts, for the book is laying out the issues and
problems for an analytic philosophy of film, which raises the activity of
theorising to a level of explicit reflection.
Finally, as with this review, I feel that a number of chapters are too long
(for example, Carroll's section entitled 'some objections', where he
responds to several possible objections to his chapter, is excessive at
seven pages; and Turvey's critique of Carroll and Smith, plus his outline
of Wittgenstein's account of visual experience, is at times repetitive,
making the chapter's logical progression very slow). And I get the
impression that the editors encouraged a number of contributors to expand
their chapters, which has made some of them unwieldy (Peter Kivy's chapter
comes immediately to mind). Despite these minor quibbles, readers can
nonetheless be confident that, by reading this book, they will encounter a
coherent and internally consistent agenda, with well-formed and significant
issues and problems to address, plus logical reasoning strategies, of a new
phase of film theory.
Liverpool John Moores University, England
Footnotes
1. Rudolf Botha, _The Conduct of Linguistic Inquiry: A Systematic
Introduction to the Methodology of Generative Grammar_ (The Hague: Mouton
Publishers, 1981).
2. Larry Laudan, _Progress and its Problems: Towards a Theory of Scientific
Growth_ (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977).
3. Warren Buckland, 'Film Semiotics', in Toby Miller and Robert Stam, eds,
_A Companion to Film Theory_ (Oxford: Blackwell, 1999), pp. 84-104.
4. Francesco Casetti, _Inside the Gaze: The Fiction Film and its Spectator_
(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1998). My review will appear in a
forthcoming issue of _Semiotica_.
5. Botha, _The Conduct of Linguistic Inquiry_, p. 54.
6. Ibid., p. 66.
7. Ibid., p. 85.
8. David Bordwell, Janet Staiger, and Kristin Thompson, _The Classical
Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to 1960_ (London:
Routledge, 1985).
9. Antonio R. Damasio, _Descartes' Error: Emotion, Reason, and the Human
Brain_ (New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1994).
10. Murray Smith, _Engaging Characters: Fiction, Emotion, and the Cinema_
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995).
11. Gregory Currie, _Image and Mind: Film, Philosophy, and Cognitive
Science_ (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995).
Copyright © _Film-Philosophy_ 2001
Warren Buckland, 'Problem Formation in the Analytic Philosophy of Film',
_Film-Philosophy_, vol. 5 no. 26, August 2001
<http://www.film-philosophy.com/vol5-2001/n26buckland>.
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