What is it about movies that make them so immediately and so universally alluring?
A statement by Luis Bunuel (Un Chien Andalou, Viridiana, Belle de Jour, The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, That Obscure Object of Desire, et al.) provides an illuminating response to the question. It was his observation that film, more than any other art form, is a simulacrum of the workings of the human mind. Perhaps that recognition has already come to your awareness; if it happens not to have, chalk-up the oversight to a “forest-for-the-trees” phenomenon that is testimony to the depth of Bunuel’s perception.
Where or when Bunuel said this, I can’t remember, but whenever he did, it was not the first time the observation had been made. Almost at the beginning of cinema’s history, there was this:
But the richest source of the unique satisfaction in the photoplay is probably the esthetic feeling which is significant for the new art and which we have understood from its psychological conditions. The massive outer world has lost its weight, it has been freed from space, time, and causality, and it has been clothed in the forms of our own consciousness. The mind has triumphed over matter and the pictures roll on with the ease of musical tunes. It is a superb enjoyment which no other art form can furnish us. No wonder that temples for the new goddess are built in every little hamlet.
The Photoplay: A Psychological Study [1916], Hugo Munsterberg, pp. 153-4
The line of differentiation between the visual representations of life as seen on a movie screen and those we routinely—perhaps even continuously—experience within ourselves is virtually indiscernible. Those of us who are gifted with eyesight involuntarily give centrality to the visual image. As is the case for a movie director, visual images are the organizer, the cornerstone of our thoughts and feelings. And it’s not only the representations in and of themselves that draw us into a movie; it is, as well, the mechanics with which they are presented: the moving images, in real time, slow motion and speed motion; the flashbacks and flash-forwards; the close-ups; the fade-outs; the freeze-frames; the associative trails that lead us from one mis-en-scene to the next and then, perhaps, back again; the soundtrack, with its music and voiceovers and the commonplace sounds of the quotidian. All of it, all that we see and hear when we go to the movies, is a replication of the mental activities that constitute nothing less than the very essence of our existence. If you can think it, you can see it on film, and if you see it on film you can think it.
Though it is surely so that any work of art is valued to the degree to which it can be taken personally—a dear friend of mine comes to mind, who weeps whenever he visits the self-portrait of an aged Rembrandt—the kinship between the workings of a film and the workings of a human mind is so strong that the process of internalizing and then personalizing a movie is likely to be an especially seamless, subliminal occurrence. Put another way, when you’re watching a movie you’re not likely to have it in mind that what you are seeing is actually someone else’s creation.
Your host at MyBestFlickEver.blogspot.com happens to be, by profession, a psychoanalyst. As such, I once worked with a patient who had a turn of phrase that palpably authenticated the Bunuelian line of thought. She would customarily introduce the narratives that comprised her life’s story by saying, as if out of a Bunuel textbook, “Let me tell you the movie that is playing in my head right now.” Her “movie,” in turn, could be linked to an actual movie, as it so often was, and as it is for virtually everyone. How many of us, for example, if we were to voice a sentiment of quintessentially wry irony, might simply be inclined to say, “I’m shocked,” and how likely are we to have precisely the same image in mind when we say it?
Jacob Arlow, also a psychoanalyst, used film to illustrate the dynamics of unconscious fantasy. (For the purpose of this site, the distinction between conscious and unconscious fantasy is inconsequential; indeed, psychoanalysts recognize that no sharp line of distinction can be made between the two, which Arlow himself points out in the very article from which I’m about to quote.). Here, in Arlow’s words, is the thought:
The contribution that unconscious fantasy makes to conscious experience may be expressed illustratively through the use of a visual model. The idea for such a model occurred to me several years ago. It was after Thanksgiving dinner and a friend had brought a movie projector to show the children some animated cartoons. Since we did not have a regulation type movie screen, we used a translucent white window shade instead. During the showing of the cartoons, I had occasion to go outdoors. To my amusement, I noted that I could watch the animated cartoons through the window on the obverse side of the window shade. It occurred to me that an interesting effect could be obtained if another movie projector were used to flash another set of images from the opposite side of the screen. If the second set of images were of equal intensity to the first and had totally unrelated content, the effect of fusing the two images would, of course, be chaotic. On the other hand, however, if the material and the essential characters which were being projected from the outside and the inside were appropriately synchronized according to time and content, all sorts of final effects could be achieved, depending upon the relative intensity of the contribution from the two sources [italics mine].
The line of differentiation between the visual representations of life as seen on a movie screen and those we routinely—perhaps even continuously—experience within ourselves is virtually indiscernible. Those of us who are gifted with eyesight involuntarily give centrality to the visual image. As is the case for a movie director, visual images are the organizer, the cornerstone of our thoughts and feelings. And it’s not only the representations in and of themselves that draw us into a movie; it is, as well, the mechanics with which they are presented: the moving images, in real time, slow motion and speed motion; the flashbacks and flash-forwards; the close-ups; the fade-outs; the freeze-frames; the associative trails that lead us from one mis-en-scene to the next and then, perhaps, back again; the soundtrack, with its music and voiceovers and the commonplace sounds of the quotidian. All of it, all that we see and hear when we go to the movies, is a replication of the mental activities that constitute nothing less than the very essence of our existence. If you can think it, you can see it on film, and if you see it on film you can think it.
Though it is surely so that any work of art is valued to the degree to which it can be taken personally—a dear friend of mine comes to mind, who weeps whenever he visits the self-portrait of an aged Rembrandt—the kinship between the workings of a film and the workings of a human mind is so strong that the process of internalizing and then personalizing a movie is likely to be an especially seamless, subliminal occurrence. Put another way, when you’re watching a movie you’re not likely to have it in mind that what you are seeing is actually someone else’s creation.
Your host at MyBestFlickEver.blogspot.com happens to be, by profession, a psychoanalyst. As such, I once worked with a patient who had a turn of phrase that palpably authenticated the Bunuelian line of thought. She would customarily introduce the narratives that comprised her life’s story by saying, as if out of a Bunuel textbook, “Let me tell you the movie that is playing in my head right now.” Her “movie,” in turn, could be linked to an actual movie, as it so often was, and as it is for virtually everyone. How many of us, for example, if we were to voice a sentiment of quintessentially wry irony, might simply be inclined to say, “I’m shocked,” and how likely are we to have precisely the same image in mind when we say it?
Jacob Arlow, also a psychoanalyst, used film to illustrate the dynamics of unconscious fantasy. (For the purpose of this site, the distinction between conscious and unconscious fantasy is inconsequential; indeed, psychoanalysts recognize that no sharp line of distinction can be made between the two, which Arlow himself points out in the very article from which I’m about to quote.). Here, in Arlow’s words, is the thought:
The contribution that unconscious fantasy makes to conscious experience may be expressed illustratively through the use of a visual model. The idea for such a model occurred to me several years ago. It was after Thanksgiving dinner and a friend had brought a movie projector to show the children some animated cartoons. Since we did not have a regulation type movie screen, we used a translucent white window shade instead. During the showing of the cartoons, I had occasion to go outdoors. To my amusement, I noted that I could watch the animated cartoons through the window on the obverse side of the window shade. It occurred to me that an interesting effect could be obtained if another movie projector were used to flash another set of images from the opposite side of the screen. If the second set of images were of equal intensity to the first and had totally unrelated content, the effect of fusing the two images would, of course, be chaotic. On the other hand, however, if the material and the essential characters which were being projected from the outside and the inside were appropriately synchronized according to time and content, all sorts of final effects could be achieved, depending upon the relative intensity of the contribution from the two sources [italics mine].
From “Unconscious Fantasy and Disturbances of Conscious Experience,” in The Psychoanalytic Quarterly, January, 1969, pp. 23-4
I couldn’t resist taking this meander into psychoanalytica because it so clearly illustrates the mental dynamic that obtains when you’re watching a movie. You, the movie viewer, become another projector. When you’re watching a movie, you are—both consciously and unconsciously—projecting your self onto images that appear before you on a screen, whose images are simultaneously being projected back onto and into you.
Colin McGinn, a philosopher and a movie-lover, did his best to put it as simply as possible in The Power of Movies:
I couldn’t resist taking this meander into psychoanalytica because it so clearly illustrates the mental dynamic that obtains when you’re watching a movie. You, the movie viewer, become another projector. When you’re watching a movie, you are—both consciously and unconsciously—projecting your self onto images that appear before you on a screen, whose images are simultaneously being projected back onto and into you.
Colin McGinn, a philosopher and a movie-lover, did his best to put it as simply as possible in The Power of Movies:
The pleasure of movies is partly the pleasure of integrating what we bring from the inside with what the world imposes on our senses. p. 54
What we’re going to do, then, here at MyBestFlickEver.blogspot.com, is conflate the interior, movie-like images that represent your internal life with the exterior images reflected back to you on a movie screen. We want to chronicle those movies whose stories mean the most to you because of whatever it is that your story happens to be. We’re looking for the very personal. What very important, most personally meaningful story in your life is best illuminated by which movie? We are not looking for movie reviews. Whatever exegesis you do offer should be secondary at most, presented because of certain attributes of the film that enhanced your capacity to personalize it. In a nutshell, what we would like you to do is tell us what movie means the most to you, and why. It’s our belief that the interplay between your personal narratives and their cinematic reflections will provide an intriguing prism of perception through which to view the ethos of our age. MyBestFlickEver.blogspot.com intends to become a library in which one can peruse the world from that particular angle of vision.
We welcome everyone of any age to sign-on as a contributor to MyBestFlickEver.blogspot.com and give us your flick and your story. Make your posting anywhere from one paragraph in length to four pages, or about 2000 words. Whatever age you happen to be, please include that number in your posting. Also include your user name, email address and the city and state from which you are posting. This will allow us to compile what we expect will be some rather interesting data. Photographs are also welcome, especially if they have a bearing on the movie you have designated as your Best Flick Ever.
What we’re going to do, then, here at MyBestFlickEver.blogspot.com, is conflate the interior, movie-like images that represent your internal life with the exterior images reflected back to you on a movie screen. We want to chronicle those movies whose stories mean the most to you because of whatever it is that your story happens to be. We’re looking for the very personal. What very important, most personally meaningful story in your life is best illuminated by which movie? We are not looking for movie reviews. Whatever exegesis you do offer should be secondary at most, presented because of certain attributes of the film that enhanced your capacity to personalize it. In a nutshell, what we would like you to do is tell us what movie means the most to you, and why. It’s our belief that the interplay between your personal narratives and their cinematic reflections will provide an intriguing prism of perception through which to view the ethos of our age. MyBestFlickEver.blogspot.com intends to become a library in which one can peruse the world from that particular angle of vision.
We welcome everyone of any age to sign-on as a contributor to MyBestFlickEver.blogspot.com and give us your flick and your story. Make your posting anywhere from one paragraph in length to four pages, or about 2000 words. Whatever age you happen to be, please include that number in your posting. Also include your user name, email address and the city and state from which you are posting. This will allow us to compile what we expect will be some rather interesting data. Photographs are also welcome, especially if they have a bearing on the movie you have designated as your Best Flick Ever.
PLEASE SEND YOUR POSTINGS TO ira@landess.net. I'll paste them into my blog, unedited. I will, however, not post any material that is pornographic, scurrilous or ill-willed.
Whereas many of you, like your host, characteristically look to find a #1 for anything and everything of interest to you, others of a more catholic sensibility could well be hard-pressed to do that. It may be more your style to have a Top Ten or even Top Hundred list, not to mention the possibility that you might not have any list at all. We nevertheless wish to have you as a member of our community. Uncharacteristic as it might be for you to hit the #1 key, just, for this occasion, put a gun to your head and pick a flick that you can live with as being your Best Flick Ever. Finally, if you can't, just can't, pull the trigger on a #1 flick, try this: take either two or three of your favorite genres and write about your Best Flick Ever from each of them (no more than 2000 words in toto).
Although, by the very nature of this site, both you and I will have only a one-off chance to participate as a contributor, we’d be happy to have you remain active in the MyBestFlickEver community by posting commentary in response to any of the films that have been chronicled. And, it is hoped, you’ll also find yourself wanting to correspond with other contributors by email.
Postings will be mounted by the order in which they’re received. They’ll be indexed by film title. Should MyBestFlickEver.blogspot.com manage to become an organically growing community, the site will adapt accordingly. A possibility, for example, that at this time must remain inchoate is that we arrange to have photos or even footage of Your Best Flick accompany your posting. We could also set up a chat room. Let’s see how many postings materialize. The hope is that the site will be able to grow virally, so with that objective in mind, would you kindly forward the URL for this site—even if you yourself choose not to make a contribution—to as many of your friends (a baker’s dozen?) as you think are likely to be interested in the project.
Thanks. See you at your movie.
Whereas many of you, like your host, characteristically look to find a #1 for anything and everything of interest to you, others of a more catholic sensibility could well be hard-pressed to do that. It may be more your style to have a Top Ten or even Top Hundred list, not to mention the possibility that you might not have any list at all. We nevertheless wish to have you as a member of our community. Uncharacteristic as it might be for you to hit the #1 key, just, for this occasion, put a gun to your head and pick a flick that you can live with as being your Best Flick Ever. Finally, if you can't, just can't, pull the trigger on a #1 flick, try this: take either two or three of your favorite genres and write about your Best Flick Ever from each of them (no more than 2000 words in toto).
Although, by the very nature of this site, both you and I will have only a one-off chance to participate as a contributor, we’d be happy to have you remain active in the MyBestFlickEver community by posting commentary in response to any of the films that have been chronicled. And, it is hoped, you’ll also find yourself wanting to correspond with other contributors by email.
Postings will be mounted by the order in which they’re received. They’ll be indexed by film title. Should MyBestFlickEver.blogspot.com manage to become an organically growing community, the site will adapt accordingly. A possibility, for example, that at this time must remain inchoate is that we arrange to have photos or even footage of Your Best Flick accompany your posting. We could also set up a chat room. Let’s see how many postings materialize. The hope is that the site will be able to grow virally, so with that objective in mind, would you kindly forward the URL for this site—even if you yourself choose not to make a contribution—to as many of your friends (a baker’s dozen?) as you think are likely to be interested in the project.
Thanks. See you at your movie.
.jpg)