Film-Philosophy
Journal | Salon | Portal (ISSN 1466-4615)
Vol. 5 No. 26, August 2001
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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