Film-Philosophy
Journal | Salon | Portal (ISSN 1466-4615)
Vol. 5 No. 24, August 2001
Robert E. Wood
Toward an Ontology of Film
A Phenomenological Approach
Though as esteemed a philosopher as
Stanley Cavell has disputed it, it seems clear to me as to
many others that film is *the* contemporary artform.
[1] Erwin Panofsky notes that 'it is the movies that
mold, more than any other single force, the opinions, the
taste, the language, the dress, the behavior, and even the
physical appearance of a public comprising more than 60
percent of the population of the earth'.
[2] Film is a new artform that came into
being through 'the wonders of modern technology'. Like opera
in the 19th century and the cathedral in the 13th, film is,
indeed, the contemporary Gesamtkunst. Ingmar Bergman
remarked that film is the contemporary equivalent of the
medieval cathedral which drew together artists and artisans
of all sorts: architects, stain-glass designers, sculptors,
mural painters, liturgists, composers and musicians, along
with masons and hod-carriers. [3] Film draws
together script writers, directors, actors, cameramen,
lighting specialists, set and costume designers, musicians,
special effects experts, and stage hands. [4] Its
peculiarity is that it has the power to make us universal
voyeurs, to make us present, in a way impossible in real
life, to every mode of human action and to expand our
vicarious experience to any real or fictitious visual and
audile space. Our intention is to focus attention
upon the nature of the film medium and the peculiar
possibilities that it affords. We will approach the study by
a double method: a phenomenological inventory, and a
comparison with other cognate artforms. The comparison with
other artforms, most especially painting, theater, and the
novel, will show the peculiarities of film. * * * All artforms appear in the space
carved out by the general structure of the field of human
awareness. That field is bipolar. At the most obvious pole
there is the component of sensation as a realm of immediate
appearance, the limited manifestation of things in the
environment of our own bodies. It rises out of the
relationship between the various sense organs and the
largely hidden causal impacts of the environment, and is
tied in with the solicitation of those desires, themselves
arising from the hidden realm of our own physiology, that
serve the ends of the organism. At the less obvious
counter-pole of the field of awareness there is an initially
empty reference to the All, to whatever is and to all there
is about each. This reference to the All poses the question
of what underlies the limited manifestation of the sensory
surface, both on the object and the subject sides. Beyond
that, reference to the All poses the question of our place
in the scheme of things, 'the meaning of it all', tied to
the choices we humans make from the possibilities afforded
by our understanding and experience. The distance of the
primordial reference to the whole pries us loose from
immediacy and condemns us to choose our way in the light of
how we understand our place in the overall scheme of things.
Out of settled dispositions passed on to others there
emerges a cultural world laying out ahead of time (for the
individuals born into it) paths for thinking, acting, and
feeling. [5] Over time the fine arts settle into
various sub-spaces within that world, grounded in the
articulation of various aspects of the sensory field. Set
within the field of the senses, fine art opens up a sense of
the whole; it gathers a world of inhabitance. Such
inhabitance inclines us in a spontaneous way to certain
lines of thinking and acting. It brings certain things
closer to us and sets other things at a distance. Among the
fine arts, film is the latest arrival. It shares visual
space with painting, sculpture, and architecture; it shares
audile space with theater, poetry, and music; it shares the
space of action with literature and theater. Some theorists claim that the medium
of film is light in motion, but we would have to take
'light' in the wide sense of that which contains light and
dark as well as all the colors, the field occupied by the
visual arts in general. [6] Alexander Sesonske
claims that the medium of film is the complex formed by
space, time, and motion. [7] Following Aristotle's
terminology, we might call that complex opened by light the
remote matter of film. [8] The proximate matter is
human action visually depicted, while the form that gives it
specificity is the mythos, that which joins all the visual
features into a single, organic whole. However, Aristotle
himself considered the visual spectacle, the field now
utilized by film itself, inessential to the work.
[9] This is linked to the Platonic view that human
completeness involves some 'turn within' away from the
sensory, the more disembodied the better -- a view carried
on in medieval monasticism and in the Aristotelianism
absorbed by Thomas Aquinas. [10] What film
underscores is embodiment, although, as in the arts
generally, only from the contemplative, non-tactual and
therefore paradoxically disembodied viewpoint. [11]
It is the seeing eye rather than the active and reactive
embodied subject that contemplates the objects of
film. If we consider the relation of film to
other visual artforms, note that painting, apart from every
other artform, is present all at once, though held in the
tension between aesthetic form and reference, between the
immediacy of sensory presence and (whether directly
representational or not) the mediation of gathering a world.
[12] Film breaks through the total presence of the
painting to move us into its active temporal context.
Sculpture, being three dimensional, requires the viewer to
move around the object to gain a sense of the transitions
between the indeterminate number of profiles presented for
viewing (or, as in Calder's mobiles, the sculptural piece
moves for the viewer). The camera carries us around the
three-dimensional objects virtually present on the screen.
Architecture, as the art of creating functional space, adds
to this the three-dimensional interior as well as the
transformations rendered by differing natural and artificial
lighting conditions. [13] Contrasted with sculpture
and architecture, painting is all there at once and
available but from a single perspective, namely direct
frontal viewing. Furthermore, even in realistic painting,
being all there at once precludes questioning beyond the
frame or behind the figures presented. By contrast, in
photography such questioning makes perfectly good sense
insofar as the photograph presents the real world which we
know to extend beyond the frame of the picture. [14]
Though, just as with the painting, what makes a good
photograph involves the balance of the forms (the play of
dark and light and colors within the frame), the frame of
the painting, unlike that of the photo, establishes its own
enclosed world. Film shares with painting and still
photography the two dimensional surface which affords
frontal viewing from a fixed perspective and presents us
with a virtual three-dimensional world. [15] But
these 'motion pictures' are like Calder's mobiles in
relation to the viewer. Furthermore, film is able to
replicate our ability to move around sculptural pieces and
through architectural works. However, as in theater, it sets
its own pace and drags us along when we might prefer to
linger. It may zero in on a painting, but as viewers we can
attend to it only in terms of the time of viewing determined
by the film. Hence the temporality involved in the viewing
of film is significantly other than that involved in viewing
the plastic arts. It is actually someone else's -- the
cameraman's, and ultimately the director's -- viewing of the
plastic work that we are enabled to experience through the
film. One might say that the plastic arts leave us free to
pace our own viewing, while film dominates our viewing by
giving us a surrogate point of view. Even though we use our
own eyes, we see through the eyes of someone else and as
dictated by some else's pace. [16] However, we must
add that technological developments make possible freezing a
frame and treating it as a still photograph. Film is a subspecies of photography.
At the level of mechanism, the traditional film is a matter
of still photographs. Composed on the reel of a series of
stills, the proximate ground of the work of art emerges with
the rapid sequential projection of these stills on a
two-dimensional screen. Film as viewed sets the photographs
in motion to produce the illusion of three-dimensions that
is the artwork. But the illusion exists as such only as it
is perceived. The projection on the screen is still not the
full work of art. As Dewey noted, the work of art is what it
does to constitute perception, how it works upon us; the
art-product, here light on the screen, is what does the
work. [17] Film's ability to preserve what it
'sees' allows for both filming in segments and retakes. This
involves a enormous difference in time-frame between the
time of filming and the time of viewing. Between the two is
the cutting room where the composition comes into being. As
Eisenstein noted, the real work of art only comes to be in
assembling the segments into an integral whole: cutting,
splicing, reassembling. [18] The finished product is
indeed a collage. All the takes are only the materials that
have to be reduced and assembled to form the coherent whole
that eventually comes to be the final art-product ready to
come to life in the perceptions of the viewers. [19]
The director commands both actor and camera angle, by
directing the cameraman (or functioning as cameraman himself
or herself), and through what he or she finally allows to
appear from a given scene in the cutting room. The director
oversees the shooting angles, manipulates the actors scene
by scene, then cuts and splices until the parts come into an
integral whole. Though guided by an overall interpretation
of the script, the way the filming and editing occurs leaves
immense room for playing with possibilities in each
scene. Because filming can start and stop and
because the resultant can be cut and recomposed, our
ordinary relations to space and time can be altered. The
final composition can not only shift within the time-frame
of the story from present to past and future, but by
superimposition can bring back the past and anticipate the
future within the spatial confines of the present action.
Composition can also juxtapose on the screen two spatially
separated events. Of course one can also do that in the
novel, but only in the alienative distance of the
reconstructive imagination. It can be done much less
successfully on the stage which suffers from its extreme
spatial confinement. [20] In the production of the stills, the
camera narrows and expands the frame by close-ups and
fade-backs. It focuses attention within the frame by
zeroing-in and fading-out, selecting now one, now the other
figure in focus, relegating the rest to fringe. The camera
moves the frame itself to include, in principle, all that
could be seen without the camera. Of course, what one sees
is not simply 'the real world', since what one films may be
elaborately staged, like in Eisenstein's _Battleship
Potemkin_, or any typical studio set, or it may be a blow up
of a miniaturized set, or a matter of elaborate technical
special effects, especially those made possible by the
computer. Time-lapse photography, as the extreme
of the distinction between the time of filming and the time
of viewing, allows the audience to see things otherwise
unseen. Fixed at a given point, time-lapse filming creates a
series of stills separated from each other by a given and
constant interval of time. Put together and projected
rapidly onto a screen, the resultant of such stills performs
the task of temporal synthesis, inexactly performed in
everyday life by psychological retention. [21] Since
we live in the flowing Now, the unity of observed processes
is ordinarily only a matter of necessarily inexact
recollective thought. Moreover, we never focus, the way a
camera can, upon a single process over a long period of
time, so that what our retentive capacity gathers for us is,
rather than a single given thing observed over a long period
of time, only a series of discrete observations pulled out
from the multiple contents that have impinged upon our
awareness while we were doing and observing other
things. Since film presents exactly a
two-dimensional view of the physical reality filmed,
[22] the line between fictional and real in what is
presented through film is easily crossed and the two
confused. The possibilities afforded by computer
manipulation makes possible the insertion of fictional
characters into scenes with real characters, as in _Forrest
Gump_ or Woody Allen's _Zelig_. Though this affords
interesting viewing, it also makes increasingly questionable
the reliability of filming and of photographic evidence in
general for testimonial purposes. What is filmed is ordinarily guided by
an antecedent script. The script employs a visual medium
whose powers, like those of the written medium generally,
can only present the vague outline of an actual visual
world, involving what Roman Ingarden called 'spots of
indeterminacy' and 'schematized aspects' that have to be
filled in by the reader's imagination. [23] The
script, so to speak, provides the recipe for a performance
in a series of entirely different media, first in the
imagination of the reader, then in the acting out on site or
on the set, in reduction and assembly in the cutting room,
in projection upon the screen, and finally in the act of
viewing. Contrast the written page of a novel
with the script of a play or a screen script. One has to
consider here the radical difference between the silently
read, the orally interpreted, and the enacted. Silent
reading, the domain of academics, provides a second-order
sensibility, a lifeworld performed in the interior of the
reader's imagination, filling out the world through the
necessarily limited description provided by the text. The
orally interpreted adds a whole new dimension of audile
dynamics. It gives body to the purely interior domain of the
imaginatively reconstructed; it locates interiority on the
earth. The word that is heard brings sound into prominence,
and, in the case of poetic diction, constitutes an essential
component of the meaning conveyed. Part of the joy in
reading Shakespeare stems from the sheer sonorousness of his
lines, 'giving airy nothing a local habitat'.
Enactment takes this one step further by adding the full
explicitness of the visual world, which in reading has to
remain only in outline, even in the reconstructions of a
reader possessed of a particularly vivid imagination.
Imagination in the three cases of silent reading, oral
interpretation, and visual enactment involves an attempted
entry into the life of the characters referred to in the
script, but it also involves the construction of a visual
world. In the first two cases imaginative construction also
involves the look of the characters in action as well as of
the general visual ambiance. That look is made explicit by
film. There is an increasing importance of
the visual ambiance as we move from the novel to the stage
to the film, and that's not always for the better. Compare
the verbal suggestions of Kundera's novel, _The Unbearable
Lightness of Being_, to the explicit display of nudity and
sexual activity in the film version. In the book nudity and
sexuality are submerged in the larger context of the novel
and positioned by the Preface in the largest possible
framework. The Preface locates the themes of Being and
Lightness in a discussion of Parmenides and Nietzsche. From
the beginning the novel is set within the framework of the
most comprehensive reflectiveness. The film version does not
directly attend to that framework; nudity and sexuality jut
into prominence and threaten to overwhelm the level of
deeper and of deepest significance. The power of visual
immediacy tends to block rather than stimulate the
reflective awareness intended and achieved by the
novel. Contrasted with a play, film so
increases the power of the visual that one could have long
scenes of action or extended moments of visual exploration
without any word being spoken. Indeed, in the early silent
films action and visual exploration were clearly the focal
elements, with diction playing an extremely subordinate role
in the subtitles. Hence the need for exaggerated gestures.
[24] By contrast, diction is the heart of stage.
[25] So much is that the case that Aristotle claimed
reading without enactment, either audile or visual, is
sufficient to take in the power of tragedy. [26] As
Sesonske noted, 'the fundamental categories of drama are
nothing like space, time, and motion [the primary formal
categories of cinema], but are rather character and
action'. [27] The move from silent film to 'talkies'
allowed subtlety of character to emerge from the stereotypes
required by speechless moving pictures.
[28] The novel, the play, and the film have
in common the focus upon human action. The real center of a
play lies in the action that the diction mediates, the kind
of character it displays, and the sense of inhabiting a
world it exhibits. Here the word heard is the primary
action, closely related to gesture and requiring more or
less in costuming and set. As we already noted, the visual
spectacle takes on greater prominence in the case of film.
It is precisely the power of that peculiar prominence that
has the deepest effect upon contemporary life, drawing in
the masses of people and moving and shaping our
dispositions, especially when music is added to the action.
It is almost a requirement of the majority of today's films
that they must weave in sufficient amounts of sex and
violence to grip the audience viscerally. It is precisely
those elements that ancient Greek theater considered best
only alluded verbally in place of appearing on stage, thus,
according to one etymological suggestion, as ob-scene. It
would surely be in keeping with the ancient Greek
sensibility in Plato and Aristotle to maintain that such
depiction would so arouse the passions as to disallow
reflective judgment. Without the discipline of
reflectiveness film can pander, as no other artform can, to
the immediate evocation of desire and more involve the
viewers in their passions than stimulate
reflection. Like and unlike the novel, film can
compress action into its essential features. [29] In
a relatively short period of time film can give the
essential dramatic features of a significantly longer
segment of real action. The stage is significantly hampered
by not being able to make the kind of temporal compression
possible in the film. Film contrasts with the novel here and
realizes with painting the adage that a picture in worth a
thousand words. [30] Once again, enactment adds in the
visual domain the dimension of gesture, the expressivity of
bodily comportment which brings it close to portrait
painting as far as expressivity is concerned. But unlike
theater and like painting, film can bring us close up to
capture facial comportment. However, in this respect film is
not so limited as painting to a frozen moment, for it can
replicate and focus a whole gestural style. It intensifies
the viewer's capacity to focus upon the full concreteness of
the character impossible in ordinary life, for in film we
can see up close characters who cannot see us. The latter is
true for theater but the close-up is not. Film does not exactly give us a 'God's
eye view' since a hypothetical giver of total being has no
point of view: everything would stand absolutely transparent
within and not before such a being. But film does give us a
kind of human omnipresence, hindered only by the limited
receptivity of the human eye and the necessary perspectivity
of human viewing. Film satisfies the voyeur's instinct
without encroachment upon the privacy of others.
[31] One becomes the perennially fancied 'fly on the
wall'. Certainly that is virtually the case in theater,
although both we and the actors know that we are seeing and
being seen. Film completely absents the actors from the
viewing audience. And by the zoom-in it allows the viewers
to come up close in a way impossible in the theater and not
at all in real life, even for the fly on the wall, without
disturbing the action. In the play, setting along with
costuming plays a role; but setting is fixed and the time of
viewing allows for comparatively very little by way of
change of scenery between acts. In film, the segmentation of
the scenes which allows separation of the time and place of
filming from the time and space of viewing brings the whole
world, real and artificially simulated, to function as
setting. This is the basis for the title of Stanley Cavell's
major work on film, _The World Viewed_. The camera can
follow the action indefinitely beyond the immediate space to
which a stage setting is confined, leading on in principle
into the entire surrounding world. [32] We can see
this contrast most clearly if we compare the straight
filming of opera performance, where the filming is governed
by the stage (reaching its high point in the work of Ingmar
Bergman), and when the filming is set free to follow the
action beyond any given setting, as in the performance of
_Carmen_ featuring Placido Domingo. Stage is live, film is not. Bogart and
Cooper and Dietrich live on in their films. The stage
performance, like any life sequence, disappears when it
ends, though it may live on in memory and in the effects it
had on the audience. Appearing before a live audience, stage
actors feed upon the audience response. Actors in a film are
more the director's creation insofar as the director
controls the takes and the cutting room. [33]
Following out the immense difference between the time of
viewing and the time of filming, actors in film do not
necessarily go through the same sequence as the final
viewers. A director may shoot at the same time all parts of
a film which take place in a single setting, no matter how
far apart they will be separated in the time of viewing.
Actors in a movie thus have a very different relation to the
overall performance than stage actors. As a result of the
possibility of multiple takes and chronological segmentation
and mixing in filming time, the actors only need memorize
relatively short portions of the script for a given filming
time. The stage actors, by contrast, need to have command
over the whole script and have relative freedom in how they
perform at a given time. Though the director may control the
actors before and after a given performance, during the
performance the actors are on their own. In film they are
never on their own -- or if they are, it is only by the
allowance of the director. [34] Though stage might have musical
accompaniment when the play is not a musical, it is not
common, whereas it would be rare to have a film without
musical accompaniment. There is, of course, a significant
difference in the role of music in film than there is in
opera: in opera music is focal, in film it is subsidiary --
unless we have a filmed opera or a musical. Music, as
Aristotle remarks, produces emotional dispositions (ethos)
like those evoked under real conditions. That makes it, in
his estimation, the most imitative of the artforms, for real
conditions and their surface imitation in painting can at
best give us signs of inner disposition: music gives the
disposition by reproducing it in us. [35] Moving the
pictures gives us increased expressivity through gestural
style, but music greatly enhances the re-creation of the
disposition. In accompanying film performance, music
accentuates the disposition proper to the action and draws
us more powerfully into it than acting alone could
ordinarily do. A PBS tribute to John Williams presented two
viewings of a scene from _Jaws_, one with and one without
Williams's accompaniment. The difference in emotional impact
was amazing. Good filming requires a rhythmic pacing of the
transformations of spatial relation that covers the same
domain of temporal pacing belonging to music. Hence from the
very beginning film and music were bonded. [36]
Music, together with the emotional possibilities of the
visual, affords the possibility of an emotional manipulation
-- for better and for worse -- that is unlike any other
medium. In the beginning we remarked that film
is the contemporary equivalent of nineteenth-century opera
and the medieval cathedral. Each is a matter of
collaborative effort on the part of different kinds of
artists and technicians. However, each is controlled by a
single person: in the case of opera, the composer, but
mediated through the director; in the case of the cathedral,
the architect. Though the effect of a collective effort on
the part of several different artists and technicians, film
is finally the work of the director-editor who fashions the
parts and brings the whole into being by collage. Through
his or her artistry the film medium establishes in a
two-dimensional projection the creation of a
three-dimensional virtual reality of sight and sound. By its
alignment with music, film is able to create powerful
emotional effects tied to the action 'mooded' by the music.
It allows the audience to become omnipresent voyeurs, to
experience vicariously an indeterminately expansive set of
possibilities of action and setting, and to be emotionally
drawn into the world depicted in a mode unrivaled by any
other medium. As such, it allows us to be emotionally
manipulated in an unrivaled way, but it also gives us an
enriched and expanded experience and thus furnishes
materials for a more comprehensive reflective
life. University of Dallas, Texas,
USA Footnotes 1. Cavell, _The World Viewed:
Reflections on the Ontology of Film_ (Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1979), p. 14. It was the study of Cavell's
book that touched off these reflections by affording many
suggestive lines of exploration. 2. Erwin Panofsky, 'Style and Medium
in the Moving Pictures' (1934), in George Dickie and Richard
Sclafani, eds, _Aesthetics: A Critical Anthology_ (New York:
St Martin's Press, 1977), p. 352. 3. Cavell, _The World Viewed_, p. 8.
Panofsky made the comparison earlier; see 'Style and Medium
in the Moving Pictures', p. 363. 4. See Paul Weiss, _Cinematics_
(Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1975), for
a treatment of each of these contributions. 5. For a more extended treatment of
the field of experience see my _Placing Aesthetics:
Reflections on the Philosophic Tradition_ (Athens: Ohio
University Press, 1999), Chapter 1, and _A Path into
Metaphysics: Phenomenological, Hermeneutical, and Dialogical
Studies_ (Albany: SUNY Press, 1991), Chapters
1-5. 6. See Cavell, _The World Viewed_, p.
165. 7. Alexander Sesonske, 'Aesthetics of
Film, or a Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Movies',
Sclafani and Dickie, eds, _Aesthetics: A Critical
Anthology_, p. 586. 8. Aristotle, _Metaphysics_, IX, 7,
1049a-1049b. 9. Aristotle, _Poetics_, 1450a, 12;
1450b, 28. 10. Thomas Aquinas, _Summa
theologiae_, I-II, 57, 3, ad 3. 11. See Noel Carroll, 'Towards an
Ontology of the Moving Image', in Cynthia Freeland and
Thomas Wartenberg, eds, _Philosophy and Film_ (New York:
Routledge, 1995), p. 71. The concocters of virtual reality
are working to remedy that by linking the visual with the
tactual. 12. See Martin Heidegger, 'The Origin
of the Work of Art', _Poetry, Language, and Thought_, trans.
A Hofstadter (New York: Harper and Row, 1971), pp.
48-49. 13. Cf. Paul Weiss, _Nine Basic Arts_
(Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1961), pp.
67-84. See also my 'Architecture: The Confluence of
Technology, Art, Politics, and Nature', _Philosophy of
Technology_, Proceedings of the American Catholic
Philosophical Association, 1996. 14. Cavell, _The World Viewed_, p.
23. 15. See Suzanne Langer, _Feeling and
Form_ (New York: Scribners, 1953), pp. 69-103. 16. Cavell, _The World Viewed_, p. 25;
Sesonske, 'Aesthetics of the Film', p. 588. 17. John Dewey, _Art as Experience_
(New York: Capricon, 1974), pp. 162ff, 106-9, 139. This is a
central theme in Mikel Dufrenne, _The Phenomenology of
Aesthetic Experience_, trans. E. Casey et al. (Evanston:
Northwestern University Press, 1973), pp. 15,
24ff. 18. Sergei Eisenstein, 'The Cinema as
an Outgrowth of Theater: Through Theater to Cinema', in
Sclafani and Dickie, eds, _Aesthetics: A Critical
Anthology_, pp. 345-350. 19. Alexander Sesonske, 'The World
Viewed', _The Georgia Review_, 1974, p. 564. 20. Panofsky, 'Style and Medium in the
Moving Pictures', p. 354. 21. On the notion of retention, see
Edmund Husserl, _Phenomenology of Internal Time
Consciousness_. 22. Panofsky, 'Style and Medium in the
Moving Pictures', p. 365. 23. Roman Ingarden, _The Literary Work
of Art_, trans. G. Grabowicz, (Evanston: Northwestern
University Press, 1973), pp. 246-287, 331-356. 24. Panofsky, 'Style and Medium in the
Moving Pictures', p. 360. 25. Carroll, 'Towards an Ontology of
the Moving Image', p. 76. 26. Like Aristotle, Sesonske claims
that a play can be 'fully experienced and understood' merely
by reading ('Aesthetics of Film', p. 586). Such a claim
turns upon what 'experienced' and 'understood' mean. It
obviously fails with regard to experience. And there is an
'understanding' involved in completed presence that is not
there in the absence involved in reading. Of course, film
also is a mode of presence in absence since the viewer and
the actors are absent from one another. 27. Sesonske, 'Aesthetics of Film', p.
586. 28. Sesonske, 'The World Viewed', p.
567. 29. Sesonske, 'Aesthetics of Film', p.
588. 30. This holds only with respect to
visual description. With respect to thoughts, only words are
adequate; for example, no picture is adequate to the
theoretical elaboration of film that we are attempting
here. 31. See Cavell, _The World Viewed_, p.
40. Cavell compares the viewer with Plato's Gyges in the
_Republic_, II, 358. 32. Sesonske, 'Aesthetics of Film', p.
587. 33. Sesonske, 'The World Viewed', p.
568. 34. Sesonske, 'The World Viewed', p.
567-569. 35. Aristotle, _Politics_, VIII, 5,
1340a, 1ff. 36. Roman Ingarden, _Ontology of the
Work of Art_, trans. R. Meyer and J. Goldthwait (Athens:
Ohio University Press, 1989), pp. 332-339. Copyright © _Film-Philosophy_
2001 Robert E. Wood, 'Toward an Ontology of
Film: A Phenomenological Approach', _Film-Philosophy_, vol.
5 no. 24, August 2001
<http://www.film-philosophy.com/vol5-2001/n24wood>.
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