Review: [untitled]

Author(s): Noel Carroll

Reviewed work(s):
The Imaginary Signifier by Christian Metz
Source: The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 43, No. 2 (Winter, 1984), pp. 211-
216
Published by: Blackwell Publishing on behalf of The American Society for Aesthetics
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/429996
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Reviews
pursue it in different ways and by different (sym-
bolic) means.
There is, however, in Of Mind and Other Mat-
ters another line of argumentregarding this issue.
This is reminiscentof the closing chaptersof Ways
of Worldmakingand it sometimes appears to be
more congenial to Goodman's pluralistic orienta-
tion.
According to this second line of argument,there
is no problem in allowing that scientific investiga-
tion, which depends essentially on literal denotation
in order to refer to the world, aims centrally, if not
exclusively, at establishing the truth. But science is
only one species of investigation, denotationis only
one species of symbolization, and truth is only one
species of rightness. Besides these, there are many
others; each one of them is in principle equally
legitimate, and each one has its own irreducible
functionand importance.
Goodman conceives of epistemology not as the
theory of knowledge but as the philosophy of the
understanding,which includes the philosophy of art
as one of its aspects (pp. 1, 148). One of his main
contributionsto this field has been his view that the
arts are to be distinguishedfrom the sciences mostly
in terms of the features of the symbol systems on
which they depend. Literaryfiction is verbal and it
can therefore be true or false; but it is always
literally false and sometimes, in addition, meta-
phorically true as well (pp. 123-26). But most of
the arts are not verbal at all and are thereforeneither
literally nor metaphoricallytrue or false. Such sys-
tems, Goodmaninsists, can still be correct, but their
correctness is both very different from truth and
very difficult to explain:
. . . since nondeclarativeversions have no truth-value,
we must start from scratch in investigating the nature
and standardsof rightness or wrongness of such ver-
sions. Instead of appealing to truth, we must seek a
general notion of rightness that may sometimes sub-
sume and sometimes compete with truth. That's tough
(p. 98).
There is still much to be done before we can
know whether this goal can be achieved: in such
contexts, far from constituting the grounds of crit-
icism, this provides a reason for praise. But the
point that concerns me directly is whether, once we
see truthas a very special case of rightness, we can
still claim that all the arts and sciences are in fact
directed toward a single thing, informatively des-
cribed. What is there now to suggest, as the previ-
ous line of argumentimplied, that 'understanding"
specifies a truly unitarystate or capacity? Goodman
doubts whether "we are much further from under-
standing the criteria of rightness of rendering in
general than we are from understandingthe special
211
case that we call truth" (p. 14). But do we know
more about understandingitself than we know about
the different criteria according to which we can
judge whetherwe have achieved it in each particular
case? And if we don't, why suppose that the arts
and sciences all have the same purpose? Why not
suppose, as Goodman's pluralism might indepen-
dently suggest, that their purposes are irreducibly
different but that each one is as legitimate, as im-
portant,and as valuableas any other?
Goodman also asks in this book a large number
of much more specific questions, many of which
should, but none of which can, be discussed here.
This review has focused on some broader issues
concerning his position. A systematic philosopher
who delights in practical suggestions, a pragmatist
who believes in intrinsicgoods, an aestheticianwho
takes physics as seriously as literature, and an
epistemologist who treatspsychology as playfully as
the dance, Goodman has written a book that is itself
an instance of the project it describes. And, perhaps
paradoxically, insofar as Of Mind and Other Mat-
ters presents an aesthetic aspect to its readers, it
does not simply present an argumentfor redrawing
the lines between the arts and the sciences: in addi-
tion, it constitutesone itself.
ALEXANDER
NEHAMAS
Universityof Pittsburgh
METZ,CHRISTIAN.The Imaginary Signifier. Indiana
UniversityPress, 1982, 327 pp., $22.50.
For film scholars concerned with semiology-which
is to say the most vocal, if not simply the majority,
of publishingfilm academics-Christian Metz is the
most influential, living film theorist. His recently
translatedbook, The ImaginarySignifier, comprised
of essays written in the seventies, was a major
factor in the transitionin film studies from what has
been called "the first semiology," a research pro-
gram supposedly modeled on Saussurean linguis-
tics, to the currentlyreigning "second semiology,"
which employs psychoanalysis, especially that of J.
Lacan (and, in Metz's variation, that of M. Klein as
well). Since Lacanian psychoanalysis has preten-
sions to linguistics, the transition to the second
semiology is not conceived by its proponentsto be
rejection of the earlier phase but an expansion
thereof. Putative reasons for this change, as offered
by film semiologists, include a desire to study the
connotative as well as the denotative level of cin-
ematic articulation (where those terms are to be
 212
understoodin their literary, not their philosophical,
sense), and a desire to study cinema's effects upon
spectators rather than baldly focussing upon the
structureof the cinematic sign in isolation from the
context of reception.
The essays that compose the book are: "The
Imaginary Signifier," "Story/Discourse," "The
Fiction Film and its Spectator," and "Meta-
phor/Metonymy, or the Imaginary Referent." The
last of these is an extended correction of certain
terminological confusions of psycho-semiological
jargon concerning the notions of metaphor, met-
onymy, paradigm, syntagm, displacement and
condensation. This essay is of primary interest to
practitionersof the second semiology and, for that
reason, I will not dwell on it. The other essays,
however, are of more general interestto nonaligned
readers concerned with film and aesthetics. These
essays attemptto mobilize psychoanalysisto explain
why people go to films and how people are able to
assimilatethe rules and conventionsof cinema.
The lead essay, "The Imaginary Signifier,"
from which the volume derives its title, proposes to
answer the preceding questions by maintainingthat
cinema has its roots in certain unconscious phe-
nomena, notably: imaginary identification, voy-
eurism, fetishism and disavowal. That is, in some
cases, Metz explains our interest in cinema by
suggesting that the medium can afford, in some
measure, whatever presumablepleasures and com-
pelling force that these psychic phenomenaprovide
the unconscious, while, in other cases, Metz can
argue that we are able to comprehendvarious cin-
ematic practices in virtue of their having these
psychic processes, structures and syndromes as
psychic prototypes. In other words, we understand
various cinematic structures and phenomena be-
cause we have already encountered similar pheno-
mena in the course of our psychic development.
Though the point of "The Imaginary Signifier"
is quite simple, the essay is difficult to read. One
reason for this is that the essay doesn't really startto
set out its central argument until it is nearly half
finished. The piece opens with meanderingrumin-
ations about cinephilia, and a laborious statement
of Metz's specific semiotic and psychoanalytic al-
legiances; one plows through over thirty pages be-
fore gleaning an idea of where we're headed.
Metz contrasts his deployment of psychoanalysis
to other possible approaches. For example, a psy-
choanalytic film scholar might analyze the person-
ality of a filmmaker through his works, or might
attempt to derive a typology of directorial syn-
dromes. Or, one might apply psychoanalysis to
individual films, conceived of as textual systems.
Metz rejects the former methods because they are
concerned with authors ratherthan cinema, and he
departsfrom the latterbecause he wishes to analyze
REVIEWS
cinema as such, i.e., the nature of cinema apart
from the unique characteristicsof individual textual
systems. Metz's approach is to isolate the film
specific feature of cinematic representation, and,
then, to see what psychoanalysis can reveal about
cinema by keeping in central view film's specific
characteristics.That is, Metz wants to unearth the
psychic significance of the essential feature of cin-
ema in such a way that some of our questions about
why people go to films and about how we under-
stand films will be answered. (N.B.: though in other
essays Metz denies that he is an essentialist, he
certainly comes off as one in "The Imaginary
Signifier.")
Metz's candidate for the essential feature of cin-
ematic representationis derived by a contrast with
theater. The essential, differentiating feature that
commands Metz's attention is that in cinema what
he calls the signifier involves a unique play between
presence and absence. That is, the cinematic signi-
fier, or representation,is present to the spectator,
e.g., an image of a locomotive, but what it is a sign
of, the locomotive itself, is absent, i.e., it is not in
the screening room. This is thoughtto contrastwith
theater where a characteror prop is representedby
something that is actually present to the audience,
e.g., a living actoror a chair.
Having identified in the play of presence and
absence the unique feature of cinematic representa-
tion, Metz looks to psychoanalysis in order to re-
view what it has to tell us about the play of presence
and absence, especially in terms of our relations or
potential relations to visual arrays where those are
marked by the play of presence and absence. Metz
finds the theme of presence and absence in four
types of psychic phenomena: imaginary identifica-
tion, voyeurism, disavowal, and fetishism. He
proceeds to attempt to illuminate cinematic expe-
rience by reference to these phenemona conceived
of as prototypesof cinematicexperience.
The first psychic analog Metz finds for the cin-
ematic experience of presence and absence is
imaginary identification. According to Lacanian
psychoanalysis, one of the momentouspoints in our
psychosexual development is the MirrorStage. Pur-
portedly at aroundeighteen months of age the child
acquires a powerful sense of identity by encounter-
ing its own image in a mirror.It derives its sense of
identity, that is, by identifying with its own reflec-
tion, an experience occasioned by feelings of per-
ceptual mastery. Cinematic representation,accord-
ing to Metz, is somewhat analogous to this seminal
experience since what is reflected on screen and in
the mirrpr are not literally in the source of the
reflection. What can this analogy be used to explain
about cinema? First, presumably, the encounter of
similar dynamics of presence and absence trigger
the sense of perceptualmastery, thereby accounting
Reviews
for some of the pleasure we derive from cinema.
Second, the invocation of the MirrorStage explains
why, according to Metz, film viewers identify with
the camera. This, in turn, explains why we so easily
accept cinematic conventions such as camera pans.
But actually the engendering of identification ex-
plains much more for Metz. For he believes that all
communicationrequires identification of some sort
for the communication to be intelligible (p. 46).
Thus by triggering identification with the camera
through the play of presence and absence, a film
secures a necessary condition for appearing intelli-
gible. The identification here is imaginary, named
after a faculty for identification called the Imagi-
nary, which is supposedly acquired at the Mirror
Stage. Insofar as cinematic representationactivates
this faculty, it is an imaginarysignifier.
Along with the pleasures of perceptual mastery,
the cinematic play of presence and absence also
affords voyeuristic pleasure. According to Metz,
cinema recapitulatesthe theme of presence and ab-
sence in voyeurism insofar as the film spectator is
absent from the fictional world displayed by the
film. That is, in contradistinctionto theatre, where
the actor is aware of the presence of the audience,
the film spectator is not present to the film actor.
Metz adds to this that film viewing, like voyeurism,
is experienced in an essentially solitary way where-
as theateris a far morecommunalexperience.
The psychic phenomena of disavowal is also
correlated to the cinematic play of presence and
absence. "Disavowal" refers to the supposed in-
fantile coming to terms with castration.A male both
believes but doesn't believe that females have pe-
nises-that they both are and are not castrated.This
capacity for believing something is present while
knowing it is really absent underwrites the cine-
matic experience for Metz. This is how we can react
as though Gregory Peck is before us while knowing
he is not. Disavowal is the mechanismwhich makes
this possible thereby enabling us to comprehend
cinema's most basic convention.
Connected to disavowal is fetishism. In place of
the female's absent penis, the fetishist finds an
object-a foot, for instance-that stands for it. In
film, the absence of the literal source of the image
is emotionally compensated for by technique. This
displacementis not only mobilized by cinephiles but
by all filmgoers insofar as they esteem the well-
madenessof a movie.
Though "The Imaginary Signifier" is constantly
and uncriticallycited by film theorists, it is a highly
problematic work. Metz's method is hardly clear.
Having identified film's essential feature, he
searches for the occurence of similar themes-of
presenceandabsence-amongst psychic phenomena.
But what principles of selection lead him to exactly
the four (rather heterogeneous) phenomena he ar-
213
rives at? Are there only these four correlations?In
answer to this, Metz may say that he never claimed
exhaustiveness. But apartfrom this slight issue, the
manner of how Metz moves from the essence of
cinema to his prototypes is murky. There is no
uniform, consistent principle stated which enables
us to reason smoothly from the essence of film to
Metz's favored psychological phenomena. The no-
tion of the play of presence and absence is not
applied univocally throughout the essay. In the
treatment of voyeurism, for example, the relevant
absent element is the spectator who is not party to
the world of the film and who watches our Gregory
Pecks unobserved. But in Metz's other analyses
what is significantly absent is the source of the
film's imagery-our Gergory Pecks and our loco-
motives. Indeed, using concepts as vague as "pre-
sence" and "absence," with little or no attention
for what is presentor absent in each case, allows for
correlations that seem no more than sleights-of-
hand.
However, the lack of an explicitly stated, con-
sistent method is the least of Metz's problems.
Greater difficulties arise with Metz's essentialism.
First, one wonders why Metz isolates the essence of
film solely by a contrast with theater. Aren't the
characters of novels as absent to the reader in
Metz's sense as King Kong is to the film viewer?
But, more importantly, is Metz's account of the
differential play of presence and absence in cinema
and theater correct? I think not. For if we are
speaking of fiction-fiction films and fictional
dramas-then, ontologically, Shylock is no more
present to the theater spectatorthan Fred C. Dobbs
is present to the film viewer. Neither Shylock or
Fred C. Dobbs can be hit by a critical tomato. Nor
can I pick up Hamlet's sword, though I can pick up
a theatricalprop. Once we are consideringthe realm
of fiction, it makes no sense to speak of the differ-
ences between cinema and theater in terms of what
is absent to the spectator. In both film and dramatic
fiction, the characteris absent from the continuum
of our world in the same way. There is no reason to
think that the distinction between theater and film
can be drawn in the way that Metz desires, espe-
cially when we recall that what Metz has in mind
are fictions. The presence and absence issue that
Metz raises has no relevance where what is being
communicated is first and foremost fictional. Ad-
mittedly, Metz's analysis of the play of presence
and absence has some connection to the most typ-
ical ways (barring, for instance, cartoons in film
and puppets in theater)of producingimages in films
and theater. But this contingent fact about the way
these fictional images are caused to be is of no
ontological moment. Nor is it clear why these fea-
tures of the production of fictional images should
have any psychological repercussions, particularly
 214
when what the audience in both theater and film is
primarilyconcernedwith are fictional worlds.
Further difficulties beset Metz's analyses of the
interactionsbetween film and his supposed psychic
prototypes. Even if we ignore the question of
whether the initial Lacanian account of imaginary
identification has a secure scientific basis, we still
have more than enough to trouble us with Metz's
characterizationof it in regard to film. Why, one
wonders, if there is a faculty of the imaginary,
would it be triggeredby film? An encounterwith a
film is so different, phenomenologically, from an
encounterwith a mirror.It is true that in our culture
the mirror is a metaphorfor visual representations
such as painting, drama and cinema. Indeed, it is
undoubtedlythis metaphoricassociation that attract-
ed film scholars to Lacanian psychoanalysis in the
first place, since talk of mirroridentificationcould
be segued with the conceit that somehow film is a
visual process like mirroring.But this, lamentably,
only shows that much contemporaryfilm theory is
precariouslybased on metaphors. It does not show
how something as radically different from my
mirror image of myself as a film can serve as the
efficient cause that mobilizes my supposed faculty
of the Imaginary.
Nor does Metz appear to be on target when he
describes our relation to the camera in terms of
identification. When I look at a film image I only
focus on partof it, usually upon what is represented
in the foreground. Yet if I truly identified with the
camera, I suppose that I would experience the entire
visual array of the projection as co-extensive with
my vision. Of course, one might drop the idea that
one always identifies with the camera. But Metz
can't for his theory of communicationpresupposes
that all communicationrequiressome kind of iden-
tification, and he argues that camera identification
is the most plausible candidate when it comes to
film. It is this commitmentto the necessity of iden-
tification in communicationthat leads Metz to ex-
plain film reception in terms of imaginary identi-
fication. But I think it is outlandishto suppose that
every comunication, in order to be intelligible,
requires some subtending process of identification.
When a railroad conductor instructs the passenger
across the aisle to get off at the third stop, I under-
stand his remarks, I find them intelligible, without,
in any meaningful sense of the word, identifying
with eitherthe conductoror my fellow passenger.
Metz's account of voyeurism in cinema is as
confused as his acocunt of imaginaryidentification.
Undoubtedlyvoyeurism can be made a live issue in
the context of specific films. But Metz sees it in
operation in all films. Why? Because the film
spectator is not in the presence of the film per-
former, which suggests that the film spectator is
viewing unobserved. Not only does this reverse the
REVIEWS
way in which Metz usually discusses the play of
presence and absence; it also seems downright
wrong. Metz asks us to think of the film actor as if
he were unaware that he is the object of an onto-
logically absentaudience-this in contradistinctionto
the stage actor who is conscious of the presence of a
breathingaudience in front of him and who is com-
plicit in their act of watching. The true circum-
stances of voyeurism, for Metz, requires a victim
who does not know he is being watched. The film
actor purportedly approximates this state but the
stage actor does not. But does this make any sense?
Surely every film actor in typical films is playing
for an audience-quite knowingly, I might add. Film
actors are in no way like the unwary apartment
dwellers who accidentallyleave their curtainsopen.
Film actors are just as complicit as stage actors in
their exhibition of themselves for popular con-
sumption. Also Metz's claim that cinema viewing
is solitary and theater viewing is communal is
parochial. Perhapsfilm viewing in first-runcinemas
in Paris is privatized, but no one who views films
with ghetto audiences, or, for that matter, with
teenage audiences, can doubt that the screening isn't
an opportunityfor communalparticipation.
Nor is Metz's characterizationof film fetishism
very persuasive. There may in fact be film fetish-
ists, but I wonder if all film viewing involves
fetishism. A fetishist putatively fastens upon one
object in orderto deny the absence of anotherobject
whose presence he has a stake in. But what is the
relevant absent object in the case of cinematic rep-
resentation. According to Metz what is absent is
whateverhad been filmed-the desert, for example,
in Lawrence of Arabia. But it is implausible to
attributeto spectators a desire for the actual pres-
ence, in the screening room, of the objects and
persons they see represented on film. Not only
would Metz be hard put to find a viewer who
confessed to characteristicallywanting to be amidst
the fictional world of films-with Dirty Harry'sbul-
lets actually whizzing by him; but also such a desire
would frustratethe very purpose of representation.
As Aristotle and ArthurDanto have argued, we are
interestedin representationsof things in a way that
we would not be interested in the things they rep-
resent-in still lifes of dead fish ratherthan in dead
fish-because representationsfacilitatecognitive and
emotive responses that the thing in nature doesn't.
But this function of representationwould be im-
plausible if what viewers of films of toppling
buildings really wanted was all that mayhem in
theirscreeningroom.
In connection with film fetishism, Metz says that
it is the process of disavowal that enables the film
viewer to believe that the objects that cause the
image are present despite the fact that the spectator
knows that they are not. Some such process as
Reviews 215
disavowal might be operative if it were appropriate the grounds which Metz cites for this analogy in-
to say that in some sense film viewers character- clude that both phenomena involve: a darkened
istically believed while simultaneouslydisbelieving room, diminished mobility, involuntary reception
that locomotives and Gregory Peck were in the and, purportedly, lowered wakefulness. However,
screening room. But Metz has suppliedno reason to Metz also notes strong disanalogies between film
postulate this contradictory state of spectators. and night dream: the film spectator almost always
Specifically he has not shown that spectatorsin any knows that he is at the movies, whereas the dreamer
way believe that the objects and persons shown in does not usually know he is dreaming;film percep-
film are really before them. tion is real-there actuallyis an externalreflectionon
In his second essay, "Story and Discourse (A the screen-whereas dream perceptionis not real in
Note on Two Kinds of Voyeurism)," Metz relies on this sense; film narratives are more rational than
a distinction that has caused a great deal of con- dream narratives;film is less viable as a source of
fusion in contemporaryfilm theory. Following the halluncinatory wish-fulfillment than one's own
linguist E. Benveniste, Metz distinguishes between dreams.
"story" and "discourse." "Jones went to the gro- On the other hand, the brunt of these disanalo-
cery store" falls into the category of story; "I assert gies can be lessened somewhat if we analogize film
that Jones went to the grocery store" is an instance not to night dreams but to daydreams. The day-
of discourse. In "story," the speakeris not referred dreameris aware that he is daydreamingjust as the
to; in semiotic jargon this is expressed by saying filmgoer is aware of watching a movie. The nar-
that all traces of enunciation (the productionof the rative of the daydreamis more subject to secondary
utterance by the speaker, in this case, by me) are revision than is that of the night dream, resulting in
obliterated. Examples of the story are said to pre- something that is less gappy and discontinuous, and
sent themselves as "transparent," as if they were more rationalthan the night dream. This would, of
told by no one. In discourse, on the other hand, the course, suggest that the daydream, like film, is less
author is referred to within the utterance, thereby effective than the night dream in affording halluci-
acknowledgingthe fact of enunciation-in "I assert natorywish-fulfillment.
that Jones . . .," I acknowledge that I produce the The film viewing process, though not identical
utterance. What does this have to do with film? with the process of daydreaming, is closer to the
Supposedly the traditional film presents itself as daydreamthan the night dream. Yet film, the day-
story, as if it were reality narrating itself. The dream, and the night dream all supposedly resemble
potential for ideology in this has, in turn, been each other because each putatively involves dimin-
seized upon by numerous contemporaryfilm the- ished wakefulness. Film, then, is seen to blend
orists following Metz. But how viable is the concept elements of night dream and daydream. But our
of story'?It is of little use in categorizing literature, perceptionof a film is, as already mentioned, real.
for example. Novels very often mix both story and This leads Metz to conclude that part of the unique
discourse in their exposition, as do historicalworks. power of film is that it mixes real perception, day-
Turningto traditionalfilms, they always have credit dream elements, and night dream (p. 141). This
sequences. Would not this place them in the cate- accounts, in some measure, for the specific joy
gory of discourse'? Also, many traditional films involved in cinema, that of "receiving from the
have narrators-e.g., I Remember Mama. DOA, external world images that are usually internal
How Green Was My Valley, Double Indemnity,etc. . ...? (p. 136). Thus, Metz offers us yet another
Are such worksto be considerednonstandard-tradi- reason why we go to films.
tional films that are discourse ratherthan story'?But The major consideration that Metz offers for the
certainly these are standard films. Moreover, the analogy between film and night dream is that both
supposed effect of examples of story-that they involve lowered wakefulness. But I see no reason
appear to be without authors, that they seem to for believing that film involves diminished wakeful-
narratethemselves-is improbable. We always at- ness. Metz notes that when one has had little sleep,
tributean authoror group of authorsto a narrative, there is dangerof dozing during a film (p. 107). So
filmed or otherwise. If we even encountereda nar- what? The problem of lowered wakefulness here
rative that appearedto have no teller we would be can't be attributedto the film but to the fact that the
as shocked as if we saw a stone floating in the sky. viewer is already fatigued. If he fell asleep while
Indeed, what would it take for an intelligible story eating his soup or reading a newspaper would we
to appearas thoughit had no narrator'? say that soup and newspapersmix elements of night
In "The Fiction Film and its Spectator," Metz dream'?Of course not.
embarks on a lengthy examination of the analogies How does Metz know that films diminish wake-
and disanalogies between film, daydream,and night fulness'? He has not even attempted such simple
dream. The analogy between film and night dream empirical corroboration as measuring heartbeats,
has been with us at least since the twenties. Some of breathing, etc. Does Metz think that film involves
 216
lowered wakefulness because when we're at the
movies we usually ignore what's happening in our
environmental surroundings. That's called paying
attention, not lowered wakefulness. Does Metz be-
lieve that his wakefulness is lowered when he is
riveted to a semiotics lecture and is unheeding of
those who leave the room or shuffle papers?If not,
then why would he suppose ordinary viewers, dis-
playing the same sort of rapt attention, are in a state
of lowered wakefulness when they are attentively
focussed on their movies? Metz's claims about the
lowered wakefulness of film viewing sound false
and are completely unsubstantiated.To the extent
that the assertion that cinematic representationpos-
sesses elements of night dream depends on the
hypothesis of lowered wakefulness, Metz's thesis is
altogetherwithoutproof.
Metz claims that film contains elements of day-
dream. Thus, when we see a film we are gratified
by encountering the externalization of something
generally internal. Insofar as the film/daydream
connection depends on the notion of diminished
wakefulness, it must confront the preceding argu-
ment. But Metz, of course, has other analogies than
lowered wakefulness to support the film/daydream
connection. Some of these are not very compel-
ling-the filmgoer is aware he is filmgoing and the
daydreameris aware of daydreaming-but, then, of
course, the beer drinkeris aware he is beer drink-
ing, and so on. Indeed, Metz's major analogies
between film and daydreamingall seem ratherweak
because they are not straightforwardanalogies but
analogies relative to the weaknesses of the night
dream/film analogies, i.e., film narrative is more
like daydreamnarrativethan night dream narrative.
But how directly analogous are film narrativesand
daydreamnarratives?Enough to make them worth
comparing?
However, even if we accept Metz's analogies
between daydreamand film, one must ask whether
these analogies will be adequate for supporting
Metz's major claim, that what is gratifying about
film is that it presents us with the type of visual
experience that we recognize as primarilyinternal.
Daydreamingis a talent that is acquired. Not eve-
ryone does it. Children apparently learn to do it
through play and through stories. Gradually, they
learn to internalizetheir games with dolls and their
stories, often picture stories (which, in our culture,
would include movies). Daydreamingappearsto be
the internalizationof externalized forms of repre-
sentation such as play and narrative,including nar-
rative film and narrativeTV. What is strange about
contemporaryfilm theorists who want to explain
how we understandcinematic conventions by means
of the structures of daydreaming is that, in all
probability, the narrativedevices of daydreaming,
in many cases, derive from pervasive culturalforms
REVIEWS
of narrativesuch as film. Thus, when we encounter
films we are not encountering something that is
generally internal, but ratherstructuresof represen-
tation that are found both internally and externally
and whose provenanceis, in fact, external.
Apart from questions of detail, one may also
doubt the theoretical advisability of Metz's overall
strategy in "The Fiction Film and its Spectator."
Metz proposes to tell us about the natureof film by
analogizing it to the mind. This places Metz in the
tradition of film theorists which begins with H.
Munsterberg, who, unlike Metz, primarily analo-
gized film to rational mental processes ratherthan
to irrationalones. But one must ask whether this
approach-employing either rational or irrational
analogs-is very useful since, in fact, we know so
little about the natureof the mind and its processes.
For an analogy to be informative we should know
more about the item that is meant to do the illumin-
ating than we do about the item that is supposed to
be illuminated, e.g., we should know more about
dreams than we know about films. But I'm not
convinced that this condition is met by film/mind
analogies. Indeed, I suspect that we probablyknow
more about the workings of film than we do about
the workings of the mind. I do not deny that spe-
cific films, like Le Chien Andalou, can attempt to
mime the mind's operationin such a way that it is
appropriatefor a film critic to call attention to
analogies with thought (especially in terms of how
thought is conceived or misconceived by the film in
question). But as a theoretical project I think that
film/mind analogies have little to tell us given the
present state of knowledge of the mind, both in its
rationaland its irrationalaspects. How much do we
gain by being told that films are like daydreams
when we understand so little about daydreams?
Perhapsfilm scholars would be better off restricting
their attention to films and film history ratherthan
investing in Metz's daydreams.
NOELCARROLL
WesleyanUniversity
SHAPIRO,GARY and ALAN SICA, eds. Hermeneutics:
Questions and Prospects. The University of
MassachusettsPress, 1984, 310 pp., $24.00.
Shapiro and Sica's Hermeneutics: Questions and
Prospects is one of the spate of recent books on the
subject of hermeneutics, a field which is currently
and increasingly enjoying a new popularity in
Anglo-American philosophy and literary theory.