O Guia Pervertido do Cinema

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.

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.

There's the danger with the critic/philosopher Slavoj Zizek with his film, directed by Sophie Fiennes, which takes together a wonderful amalgam of silent, horror, sci-fi, surreal and other contemporary thrillers together to make his points ofr Freudian comparisons to overload. But in the Pervert's Guide to Cinema he also makes even the more far-reaching points a point of departure from any other analysis I've seen on a collective section of films. While it doesn't cover the expansive territory Scorsese's movie documentaries cover, the same attachments are there, and Zizek has a definite love for all of these "perverse" examples and films, primarily the work of Hitchcock, Lynch, Chaplin and Tarkovsky. Yet one shouldn't go into seeing this- if you can find it that is, I got to see it almost by luck- thinking Zizek will just try and dissect all of the psycho-sexual parts or parts referring it in an obtuse, deranged manner. If anything he opens up one to points that might never be considered otherwise- would one think of three of the Marx brothers as representations of the Id, Super-Ego and Ego (Harpo's example is most dead-on for me).

He's not just one to take on the classics though, he also considers the food for thought in The Matrix and Fight Club- in representations of the split between fantasy and reality and if the matrix needs the energy as much as the energy needs the matrix for the former, and in the attachment of violence in dealing with one's own self as well as ones double in the latter. He even throws in a piece from the pivotal moment in Revenge of the Sith when Anakin becomes Darth Vader, and the implications of shunning away fatherhood under that back mask at the very moment his children's births happens elsewhere. The ideals of fatherhood, male sexuality, the male point of view in turning fantasy into reality (at which point Zizek rightfully points to as the moment of a nightmare's creation), and female subjectivity, are explored perhaps most dead-on with Vertigo. This too goes for a scene that Zizek deconstructs as if it's the Zapruder film, where he dissects the three colliding points of psycho-sexual stance in the 'don't you look at me' scene in Blue Velvet.

Now it would be one thing if Zizek himself went about making these sincere, excited, and somehow plausible points just face on to the camera or mostly in voice-over as Scorsese does. But he goes a step further to accentuate his points of fantasy and reality, and how they overlap, intersect, become one and the same, or spread off more crucially into some netherworld or primordial feeling for some characters (i.e. Lost Highway) by putting himself IN the locations the films take place in. Funniest is first seeing him in the boat "heading" towards the same dock Tippi Hedren's boat heads to at the beginning of the Birds; equally funny is as he waters the Blue Velvet lawn he goes on to explain the multi-faceted points of Frank Booth; only one, when he's in Solaris-like territory, does it seem a little cheesy. But Zizek seems to be having a lot of fun with this set-up, and after a while one bypasses the potential crux of this gimmick and Zizek's words come through.

There were some films I of course would've expected, chiefly from Hitchcock and Lynch, but a treat for movie buffs come from seeing two things- the movies that one would never think of seeing in a film about films titled the Pervert's Guide of Cinema (top two for me would be the Disney Pluto cartoon and the exposition on Chaplin's films, albeit with a great note about the power and distinction of 'voice'), and the ones that one hasn't seen yet (i.e. the ventriloquist horror film, Dr. Mabuse, Stalker, among a few others) that inspire immediate feelings of 'wow, I have to see that immediately, no questions asked.' Zizek is a powerful writer with his work, and puts it forward with a clarity that reminds one why we watch movies in the first place, to be entertained, sure, but also to have that actual experience of sitting down and having something up there, as he put it, looking into a toilet. It's probably one of the greatest films about cinema, and in such a splendidly narrow analysis of how Freud works its way into films regarding desire, the Id/Super-Ego/Ego, and of the supernatural in fantasy, that you may never see...unless distribution finally kicks in, if only on the smallest levels.

In this two hours and a half documentary, Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Zizek uses psychoanalytic theory to analyze clips of many classic films. As a theory of human behavior, psychoanalysis is quite outdated, surpassed by more biologically centered theories of the brain. However, psychoanalysis has undeniably influenced many famous directors in the past (for instance, Alfred Hitchcock or David Lynch, and Zizek analyzes here clips of their films), so in this sense this movie is interesting to have a hint of what these directors might be getting at. This film is very entertaining (Zizek is quite a character in his own right, with his thick accent, gesticulating body and wildly hypothetical theories) even if the ideas put forward here are probably wrong and outdated. The films Zizek spent more time analyzing here are Vertigo, Blue Velvet, Psycho, The Birds and Lost Highway, but aside from Hitchcock and Lynch, there are clips from other directors, such as Kubrick, Chaplin, Tarkovsky and others. And in a one of the more interesting parts, he shows us a Disney cartoon from 1935 called Pluto's Last Judgment, and we see how it surprisingly mirrors the Stalinist show trials of a few years later. Sophie Fiennes (sister of Ralph and Joseph) directs. She wisely makes Zizek talk from sets that mimics some of the movies he is analyzing.

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.