Le Guide pervers du cinéma

Famous movies are subject to Freudian analysis: Possessed, The Matrix, The Birds, Psycho, Vertigo, Duck Soup, Monkey Business, The Exorcist, The Testament of Dr Mabuse, Alien, Alien Resurrection, The Great Dictator, City Lights, The Tramp, Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz, Dr Strangelove, The Red Shoes, Fight Club, Dead of Night, The Conversation, Blue Velvet, Solaris, Stalker, Mulholland Drive, Lost Highway, Persona, In The Cut, Eyes Wide Shut, The Piano Teacher, Three Colours: Blue, Dogville, Frankenstein, The Ten Commandments, Saboteur, Rear Window, To Catch a Thief, North by Northwest, Star Wars, Dune, Kubanskie Kazaki, Ivan The Terrible, Pluto's Judgment Day (Walt Disney), Wild at Heart.

You may wonder how the Marx Brothers come into play. According To Slavoj Zizek, the host and analyst of this intellectually tickling tour de force, Groucho is the superego, Chico the ego, and Harpo the id.

Scenes from the above listed films are used to illustrate concepts: the role of fantasy in shaping reality and vice-versa, the father figure, male and female libido, death drive, etc. Here are some of Slavoj utterances (most as paraphrases): "desire is a wound on reality", "fantasy realized is a nightmare", "music is the opium of the people" (borrowing from K. Marx), "of all human emotions, anxiety is the only one that is not deceiving". The whole is bracketed by an intro that declares "you don't look for your desires in movies, instead cinema tells you what you should desire" and concludes with the cineaste view that "cinema is needed today so that we can understand our current reality" -- I say, as long as censorship doesn't derail it.

The three part subdivision is merely mechanical, possibly with TV screening in mind. For the theater goer it is irrelevant.

I saw this film at the Toronto International Film Festival. Not as salacious as it sounds, this is a three-part documentary (each episode is 50 minutes) featuring Slovenian superstar philosopher/psychoanalyst Slavoj Zizek. Zizek takes us on a journey through many classic films, exploring themes of sexuality, fantasy, morality and mortality. It was directed by Sophie Fiennes, of the multi-talented Fiennes clan (she's sister to actors Ralph and Joseph).

I enjoyed this quite a bit, although I think it will be even more enjoyable on DVD, since there is such a stew of ideas to be digested. Freudian and Lacanian analysis can be pretty heavy going and seeing the whole series all at once became a bit disorienting by the end of two and a half hours. It didn't help that an ill-advised coffee and possession of a bladder led me to some discomfort for the last hour or so.

My only real issue with this is that Zizek picked films that were quite obviously filled with Freudian themes. He spends quite a bit of time on the films of Hitchcock and David Lynch, not exactly masters of subtlety. I would have liked to see him try to support his theories by using a wider range of films, although that's really just me saying I'd like to see part four and five and six.

Zizek is very funny, and part of the humour was watching him present what amounted to a lecture while inserting himself into the actual scenes from some of the films he's discussing. So, for instance, we see him in a motorboat on his way to Bodega Bay (from Hitchcock's The Birds) or sitting in the basement of the Bates Motel (from Psycho). Which is not to say that his theories are not provocative. Even when I found myself disagreeing with him, it definitely made me think a little more deeply about the films. Which is exactly what he's trying to accomplish.

"Cinema is the ultimate pervert art. It doesn't give you what you desire; it tells you how to desire."

So begins "The Pervert's Guide to Cinema," in which Slovenian philosopher and psychoanalyst Slavoj Zizek applies his Freudian/Lacanian brain-scalpel to world cinema. This film in three parts is the second feature documentary directed by Sophie Fiennes (yes, sister of Ralph and Joseph), and it is a notable accomplishment, clocking in at 2 1/2 hours of talk from one man and yet remaining humorous and engaging throughout. In essence, it is an extended film lecture, and one of the best you may ever get. Over the course of the film, Zizek guides us through a catalog of obsession and desire in film history. He touches on more than 40 films and, in particular, spends a great deal of time with Hitchcock, Lynch, Chaplin, Tarkovsky, the Marx Brothers, and Eisenstein. But he also takes a close look at "Persona," "The Conversation," "Three Colors: Blue," "Dogville," "Fight Club," and "The Exorcist." Thematically, Zizek's inquiry into cinema ranges from thoughts on the death drive to the "coordinates of desire," and from Gnosticism to "partial objects."

"The Pervert's Guide" will be a slightly better experience if you've taken a few minutes to bone up on your basic Freudian terminology. However, even if you're not steeped in psychoanalytic theory, Zizek's dynamic and hilarious personality carries the film forward with such gusto that you aren't likely to balk at the specialized lingo. The film frequently cuts from movie clips to images of Zizek *inside* the movie he is talking about--that is, in the original locations and sets. The transitions in these sequences sustain such tension and humor that the trick never gets old. And Zizek himself is constantly making us laugh, either from bizarre little jokes or from his enthusiastic insistence on, for example, a bold Oedipal interpretation of "The Birds." And this go-ahead-and-laugh attitude, on the parts of both Fiennes and Zizek, is essential to the gonzo character of the film. It is the spoonful of sugar that helps us digest Zizek's weird medicine. After all, don't we all have a sense that, past a certain point, psychology theorists are just pulling our legs?

Already his first claim, that desires are always artificial, is totally fallacious.

When a Jehovah Witness reject gets his own documentary on movies – or anything for that matter - it's time for anyone to get their own. Although far, far more intelligent than, say, Paris Hilton, Zizek's mouth spews just as much baloney as hers, just a different kind. He combines the worst from both his professional worlds: psychoanalysis and philosophy. Both fields are notorious for conveniently offering the expert b*lls***osopher plenty of leeway to create unprovable theories, to rant without a beginning or end, and to connect concepts almost randomly, in the process misusing the English language by creating a semantic jumble only a mother can love. Example: there are three main Marx brothers hence what a "great" idea to connect them with three levels of human consciousness, the id, the ego and the super-ego. I'm kind of surprised he didn't play a clip from "Snowhite" and make an analogy between the seven dwarfs and the seven levels of Gahannah (Moslem hell). It's like the premise of Schumacher's "The Number 23": play with numbers long enough, and you can come up with any kind of cockamamie theory you want, even linking Ancient Greeks with Princess Di's death.

However, there is an entertainment element to TPGTC: watching a raving lunatic sweat like a hog while uttering delusional chants masked as intellectual analysis can be quite a lot of fun. Why watch "Cuckoo's Nest" or any other madhouse drama when you can have Zizek for more than 2 hours? It's like watching an amusing train wreck. Admittedly, he is almost funny on one or two occasions.

I have always been mystified by people who desperately try to elevate movie-making into an exalted intellectual social science. Giving idiotic movies like "Birds" this much thought, hence this much credit, probably has its fat creator laughing in his grave. The raw truth is that the vast majority of movies have zero intellectual value, and the few ones that do have some intelligence don't require a shrink-turned-philosopher to draw one a map to understand them – unless one is a complete idiot. Zizek sees layers and layers of meaning in the most banal movies. Hallucinogenic drugs must be rather popular and cheap in Slovenia these days...

When Zizek showed the bathtub hole in the "Psycho" shower scene, I thought he was going to say something about galactic black holes; how they drain the life out of stars just as the bathtub hole sucks in Janet Leigh's blood. Or perhaps he could have said how the hole represents Leigh's vagina, with the blood flowing into it instead of out, this representing some kind of "clever (Zizekian) irony". Speaking of which, the real irony is that if Hitchcock had really put that much thought into every scene his movies wouldn't have been the illogical, far-fetched crap that they often are. The point of these bathtub hole analogies was to illustrate just how easy it is to improvise about "hidden, deep meanings". And when you add Zizek's fanciful terminology from philosophy and psychology, layering these terms on top of these analogies like wedding cake decorations, you get a rambling jumble that can instantly impress the uneducated - i.e. the easily impressionable and the gullible.

Zizek utters a number of unintentionally bits of poppycock, one of the most absurd ideas being when he associates Anthony Perkins's cleaning of the bloodied bathroom with "the satisfaction of work, of a job well done". Don't laugh... Neither Hitchcock nor the writer of "Psycho" could have ever even vaguely entertained this notion that Perkins might be enjoying a job well done - the cleaning of a blood-stained toilet - while they were conceiving/directing that scene. Talk about putting words into one's (dead) mouth, but in the context of misinterpreting what the director had to "say".

I like Zizek's initial thoughts on Tarkovsky's terrific "Solaris", but then he has to ruin a rare good impression by dragging in "anti-feminism" and other nonsense into his theory.

Zizek's attitude towards logic is that of a dog toward its plastic bone. "I just want to play with it all day!" Logic has its rules, and is not supposed to be raped - at least not publicly - by the likes of him. He seems to regard logic, proof, common-sense, and reason as enemies or mere throwaway toys; concepts to be either avoided, twisted to fit the end-goal, or simply annihilated. Zizek is the LSD-tripped hippie, and all his favorite movies are his own personal "2001"s.

The fact that Zizek over-focuses on two of the most overrated directors - and ones whose films often LACK intelligence, if anything - such as Hitchcock and Lynch, only further diminishes his already low credibility. I was surprised De Palma didn't feature more prominently; that's another lame director who writes inept scripts. Zizek has a field day with Lynch's incomprehensible "Lost Highway". There are just as many interpretations of that movie as there are people who watched it.

Zizek's comment that the viewer readily accepts von Trier's laughable, "ground-breaking" physical set-up in "Dogville" made me snicker.

However, Zizek doesn't only make up stuff as he goes along, he also indulges heavily in the "bleedin' obvious". Like all "social scientists" (an oxymoron), he wraps his very trite "observations" into articulate (if full of spitting) and sometimes complex blankets of language. After all, sociology functions in precisely the same way: it makes us believe we are hearing something new when in fact it's what we already all know, but told in an eloquent way - which fools the more unobservant listener.

I was half-expecting for men in white suits to suddenly appear out of nowhere and strap him up in a loonie-suit...

Slavoj Zizek: soon as a stalker in a kid's park near you.

For depressed, frustrated, confused film students only.

He's stocky, sweaty, slightly cross-eyed and restless. He stands in front of us and calls himself a pervert. He claims that we – the film viewers – perceive the screen as a toilet bowl, and are all secretly wishing for all the s**t to explode from the inside. He's unpredictable and scary. Well…? Come on, you could have guessed by now: he's one of the leading philosophers of our age.

Slavoj Žižek is both a narrator and a subject of Sophie Fiennes' extraordinary new film, A Pervert's Guide to the Cinema. Fiennes illustrates a feature-long lecture by Žižek, and does so in two ways: by providing exemplary film clips and putting Žižek on real (or reconstructed) locations from the movies he speaks about. It's always nice to watch neatly captioned scenes from great movies (although Revenge of the Sith got here as well), but the main attraction of A Pervert's Guide… is Žižek himself. What makes the movie such fun to watch is the unanswerable question one cannot help but ask over and over again: what is more outrageous, Žižek's views or Žižek's screen presence? In a documentary by Astra Taylor (Žižek!, 05), Slovenian philosopher at one point confessed his fear of being silent. Because, he claimed, he feels like he doesn't exist in the first place, the only way to make all other people believe he does is to talk constantly and feverishly. And talk he did, and how. Also A Pervert's Guide… is dominated by his voice – delivering perfect English in most crazy way, and making some astonishing points about the cinema.

What are those? Well, for example he sees Chaplin's reluctance towards talking picture as a sign of an universal fear of voice itself (kind of alien force taking over the human being – think the ventriloquist segment of Dead of Night [45]). He says that the perverse nature of cinema is to teach us to desire certain objects, not to provide us with them. He identifies Groucho Marx as super ego, Chico as ego and Harpo as id. He says a million other interesting things, and all the time we cannot take our eyes off him, so persuasive (and captivating) are his looks. At some point I couldn't help but stare at his thick, scruffy hair and wonder what kind of a brain lays stored underneath. Craving, of course, for more insights.

Most notable are Žižek's readings of Lynch and Hitchcock (which comes as no surprise since he has written about both of them). The cumulative effect of many brilliantly edited clips from their respective work made those parts of Žižek's lecture memorable and – unlike others – difficult to argue with, since he seems to really have gotten things right on these two directors. This doesn't go for his reading of Tarkovsky for example, upon whom he relentlessly imposes his own utterly materialistic view of reality, dismissing precisely what's so remarkable in all Tarkovsky (namely strong religious intuitions and images).

The question isn't whether Žižek is inspiring and brilliant, because he is; or whether Fiennes film is worth watching, because it is likewise. The real question is rather: are Žižek views coherent? One smart observation after another make for an overwhelming intellectual ride, but after the whole thing is over, some doubts remain. For example: while considering Vertigo (58) Žižek states that what's hidden behind human face is a perfect void, which makes face itself only a facade: something of a deception in its own means. However, when in the final sequence we hear about the ever-shattering finale of City Lights (31) as being a portrait of one human being fully exposed to another, it's hard not to ask: what happened to the whole facade-thing…? Why should we grant Chaplin's face intrinsic value of the real thing and deprive Kim Novak's of this same privilege in two bold strokes…? Or maybe that incoherence might also be read in Lacan's terms? (The name of the notoriously "unreadable" French psychoanalyst is fundamental to Žižek's thought.) The film has all the virtues of a splendid two-and-a-half hours lecture: lots of ground are covered, many perspectives employed, even some first-rate wisecracks made (when Žižek travels on a Melanie Daniels' boat from The Birds [63] and tries to think as she did, he comes up with: "I want to f**k Mitch!"). But it has also one shortcoming that isn't inherent to two-and-a-half hours lecture as such: it's almost obsessively digressive. Žižek's yarn about how far are we from the Real is as good as any other psychoanalytic yarn, but after some 80 minutes it becomes quite clear that one of Žižek's perverse pleasures is to ramble on and on, changing subjects constantly. Overall effect is this of being swept away by a giant, cool, fizzing wave: you're simultaneously taken by surprise, refreshed, in mortal danger and confused no end. As you finish watching, your head is brimming with ideas not of your own and you're already planning on re-watching some films – but you also share a sense of having survived a calamity.

The ultimate question is: did Žižek lost it? Or haven't we even came close to the real thing? Once cinephilia becomes punishable by imprisonment, we shall all meet in a one big cell and finally talk to each other (not having any movies around to turn our faces to). I dare you all: who will have enough guts to approach Žižek and defy him? My guess is that once you look into those eyes in real life, you become a believer.