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Primitill<' Pas..-iollS: Vúua lity, SexualilY, Elhnography, a"d COlllemporar)' Chillese Ci/1e1l1a
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Atlack ofthe Leading LAdies: Gender, Sexuality, und SpeaalOr.,hip ill Classic Horro,. Cinema
Hollywood and the Cuilure Elile; HOl(J the "fo ll;e; Bnamr: American PETER DECHERNEY
Tait/Ja fl Film Director.c 1I
RHONA J. BERENSTEIN
Th ú Mad Masquerade: Sla/dom alld Masculinily in the ja;:;", Age
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Pre-Code Hollywood: Sex, [mmol'(]lily, and h1Jurrectlon in A,nt",.icall Cinema,
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rSBN- '3: 978 0-23'. 13954-0 (c1",h : . Ik. pa per)
rSBN- lo: O-'3l-13954-3 (c1orh: olk . paper)
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CONTENTS
A
e K N o W LEo G M
EN T S
IX
INTROD UCTlON T he Bi za rre N atu re of N o rmality
ONE Sac rificing One's Head for an E raser TWO Thc Integration
26
oC th e Impossible O bject in
The E/ephant Man
49
THREE Dunc and (he Patn to Salvat ion
68
FOUR Fa nrasizing the Fa ther in Blue Ve/vet FIVE The Absence of Desire in Wild al Hearr
90
11 0
SIX Twú¡ Peaks: Fire Walk with Me
and Identification with the Object SEVEN Findi ng O ursclvcs OD
:l
12 9
Los! Highway
154
EIGHT T he Eth ics o f Fantasizing in Th e Straight Story
177
NINE Naviga ting Mulholland Drive, Da vid Lyn ch's
P an egy ric to Holl ywood
194
CONCLUSION T hc E th ics of Fa ntasy N OTES
IN
o ex
220
22 5
.!~'I
VII
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to th e Unive rsiry of Texas Press for permitting me to reprint material that nrst appeareJ iD Ci nema Joum a!. Much of chapter 7orig jnaUy appean:~d as "Fin di ng O urselves on a Lost High way: Da vid Lyn ch's Lesson in Fantasy," Cinema joumal39.2 (W in te r 2000): 51 -73, and m uch oE chapter 9 appeared as "Lost on Mulholland Dril/e: Na vi gating David Lynch's Panegyric to Hollywood," Cinema joumal 43.2 (Winter 2004) : 67-89, copyrig ht © 2000 an d 2004 by the Uni versiry of Texas P ress; all rights rese rved. r owe a trem endous debt [O Juree Sondker at Colum bi a U ni versi ty Press for having faith in the book even when tbis faith seemed mis placed, and to Roy Thomas for h is carefu l wor k o n the manuscript. T ha nks to Dashiel l an d T heo Ncroni, for sitting patiently while 1 ri rse com posed many of the chapte rs, and for proviJing relief when 1 wasn't composing anything. Many of th e ideas in this book were renned o ver two sumille r c(jur~es, du ring whicb [he contributions of many students, including rhose of Cate Racek , Sara Bumen, Carl y Ma rino, a nd ]onathan San horn owere l:xtre mely helpful. Itan b ro E lí~abc th Bronfe n, w hose thoughtfuI comments on the IX
manuscript allovved me to see the overall direction of the argument in a new light. 1 would l ike to thank Ken Rcin hard for putting together the Semi nar on Experimental Critical T heory in the summer of 2004, which in formed the d irection of my thoughts on L ynch and allowed me the op portuni ty to present w hat ultimately developed into the conclusion of this boo k. Slavoj Ziie k provided an insightful read ing of tbe m a nuscript, an d his w ork has remained the starting point and the end point for m y ap proach to Lynch. My conve rsaxions with David Jenemann allowed me to anticipate many of the potential objections to the arguments ad vanced bere. Anna Kornbluh was instrumental in advancing my though t and helpi ng me to work through many of the issues of the book. Q uentin Martin also helped me to develop my thinking on Lynch. T hanks to Sarah N ilsen and Jean W yatt for their consci entiolls an al ysis of significant portions of the book and for highlighting its most dogma tic moments. I owe a buge debt ro Pb il Poster fo r reviewing th e book in él rough fo rm and for helping m e to construct a first intclligible draft. r app rcci ate Da niel N orford's careful reading of rhe m anuscr ipt. Myles Jewell provided a deta iled read ing th at belped highlight all me places where tbe book w as n't clear. Thanks ro Vin ney Cavallo fo r tbe subtlc suggestions th at made this a muc h more read able and accu rate work. F inall y, thanks to Wa lter Davis, Panl E isenste in, a nd HiJary Neroni, w ho havc informed everything I th ink about Lynch and have ac quaintcd th cmselves so tho ro ug hly ,vitb this book that they have al mos l w ri tten it themseJ ves.
X
ACK N OWLEOGEMEN TS
THE
impossible
D AVI D LY NC H
INTRO DUCT ION T he Bizarre Nature ofNormality
Wotching from a Distance The g reatness of a work of art depends on its abili ty ro transform the :lUJience. As Rilke form ulates ir in his poem "The A rcha ic Torso of Apallo," the great work of art tell s us that we have to change our lives.' 1f one accepts this defin irion, ir immediatdy rh rows the idea of a great film un o d oubt. Though we may pro ject oursel ves ioro filmic na rra tives thro ug h idcntification w ith lhe cam era ur w ith ch aracters, the ilmitations of [he medi um m ean mat the film we are watching never Sees us and never add resses us directly. Perhaps this is wh y Orson We lles insists that "no movie that w ill ever be made is worthy of being c1iscussed in th e same b rea rh lwith one of Shakespeare's plays]."2 One doesn't simply watch a play; as an audience me m ber, one is part of the pt!rformance--Dr at ¡east one has the possibil ity of seeing haw the per formance takes its aucl ience into accou n t. A play from Shakespeare can .\dd ress its aud ience members directly a ncl demand tha t th ey change theír Qwn lives ba sed on what t ranspi res on the stage. For their part, novcls invol v~ their reade rs by demandi ng an imaginativ e act that com pletes the artwork . Bur .he cinema is predicated on the distancc that m e vícwing silU;J tinn tcnds to creare hetwee n spectators and wh at they see IIIl tite \crn·n.
Spec ta tors wa tch fmm a d ista ncc; they watch the screen images from a position that ens ures the ir lack of d irect involvement in what they see. In contrast wi th attend ing a play, watching a film, as numerous film the orists have noted, allow$ us a high degree of anonymity. Much of the ap pea l of film spectatorship stems fro01 our ability to watch filmic events without being seen. T hc uni d irectional view ing situation permits the spectator ro remain safe within rhe anonymity of darkness.3 The distance between screen an cl spectator becomes a more signifi cant problem inso fa r as it so often rem ai ns unperceived amid the illu sory presence of screen images and events . Through identification with the camera and characters, the spectator attains a sense of proximity and involvement with what transpires on the screen. When watching a film, one often feels oneself in a position internal to the events rather than externa!. But this proximity is imaginary, proximity from a dis tance, and the distance allows the spectator to avoid any encounter in the cinema that migilt challenge or alter the spectator's subjectivity. Any experience of a film's immediacy is a thoroughly mediated one be cause characters 00 screen remain seen but never see while the specta tor sees without being seen. From his first feature craserhead (1977) through each of his subse quent films, m e fi lms of David Lynch present a challenge to this view ing situation. The great achievement of his films lies in their ability ro break clown the clistance ber ween spectator and scree n. Rather than permitting the im aginary proximity that dom in a tes in m ainstream cin ema, Lynch's fil m s implicate tb e spectator in their very structure. Tb e structure of a Lynch film altas the cinema tic viewing situation itself and deprives tbe spectator of the u nd erlying sense of remain ing at a safe distance from what tak es place on the screen. Lynch incl udes cine matic momcnts that force the spectalor to beco me aware of how th e film itself takes into account the spectator's desire. His films confront one with sequences that rl: \ eal one's own ir:vestment in what one sees. Ir is in this sense that Lynch is "weird" : one cannot watch a Lynch film in the way that (lne watches a standard Hollywood film nor in the way that one watches most radical films. The structure of a Lynch film challenges the spectator's tradirional experience of the cinema just as it engages and challenges the history of film tb eory. The aim of th is book is ro take up that challenge an cl to pursue the th eo retical possibilities presented to us in Lynch 's films.
THf; IMPOSSIBlE DAVID lYNCH
Lynch's challenge to spectators departs significantly from tb_e ap proach that dominates radical cinema, which consists in enhancing the spectator's sen se of distance fr(lm events on the screen rather than e1im ina ting it. This approach has informed not just ho\\' alternative film ma kers construct their films but al so how theorists have conceived the possibility of a radical cinema. To unoerstand Lynch's uniquencss as a filmmaker, we must first examine the alternative that his films defy. Psychoanalytic film theor,ists in the late 1960s and I~:!70S such as C hristian Metz and ]ean-Louis Haudry were a ttuned ro cinema's ahility to create spectators who watch at a distance without at the same time hav ing any awareness of this distance. They saw this vievving situation as the primary way in which cin ema functioneo ideologicalIy to aid in subject.ing spectators. \\Thile watching a film, as Metz puts it, "it is al ways the other who is on the screcn; as for me, 1 am there to look at him. T tak e no part in tb e perceived, on the contrary, 1 am al1-perceiving. All perceiving as one says all-powerful (this is the famous gift of'ubiquity' m e film gives its specta tor); all -percei vi ng, too, beca use 1 am entirely on che side ufthe pcrccivi ng instance."4 The act of wa tchi ng a film, acco rd ing to th is way o f thinki ng, is a on c-way ex pe rience in w hich the specta tor bas no in volvement in what is visible on che screen. By leav ing the specta tor jn th is si tuation of being "all-perceiving," the cinema allows the specta tor to expe rience the combination of distance from an d prox im ity to the screen events. a combinaríon th at permits the spectator to be simulcaneo usl y involved and noto lusofar as it works to sustain spectator d istance, rhe cinema seems fu ndamen ta lly voye uristic. As Lau ra Mul vey notes, "the extreme con tms t betwecn tbe darkness in the auditorium (wh ich also isolated the spcctators from one another) and the brilli ance of the shifting patterns of ligh t and shade on th e screen helps to prom ote the illusion of voy eu ristic separaríon."5 M ulvey is careful to note here that the separation or distance inhe re nt in cinematic voyeurism (and in voyeurism as SU€'h) is ¡¡¡usory. W 'hy? The thrill of voyeurism depends on a fundamental fúilu re o f self-recognition. T be voyeur believes that she/he is looking at a sceIle tbat sim ply exists in itself and th at has oot been constructed for halhis look. Hence, the voyeur can see otbers in their private world, wh:u cx ists lX' l1c:llh tbeir public face, and the voyeur's enjoyment de rives f rol1l ,ccing liti s private wor ld . This utte rly private OJoment
IN rRO DUCTlO N
would be, in the thinking of the voyeur, what others were rcally like , how they appea r when no one is looking. But when che voyeur looks on this private moment, what shclhe mi sses is its structured na ture. E ve n the most intimate l110ments in our lives structure themselves arouad a puhlic look, even when that look is absent. The suhject in a private moment continues, al beit most often unconsciously, to act and presen t her/himself for an imagined 100k. 6 We per form our in timate acuvi ties in ways that confirm a certain idea we have of ourselves, and m is self-image implies an external look what Freua calls an ego idea l-that apprehends it. The implicit on look e r gives m eaning and structure to the private activity. Without the implicit on looker or ego ideal, \Ve would hav e no sense of how to act in private, no method for organizing our private lives) In short, the scene that the voycu r witnesses is always a scene created for the look of the voye ur, ond this is what the voyeur cannot seco There is something fundamentally disappointing about voycurism: it never sees w hat it's looking ror hllt instead sces J moment created for its look. The strllctured natllre of the private mOlllent is most cmphati cally true in the case of ci nema: we ca nnot even imagine a film not or gani zed around the look of a spectator, and yet this is prec isely w ha t most fil ms-and , just as impo rta ntly, most spectators-attempt to dis avow. In rbis sense, the fi lm itself does look back at the spectators inso far as its very structure takes their dcsire as spectators into accoun t. There is no film that has becn made not to be seen. 8 W hi le wa tch ing a fi lm, especially a typica l Holly wood fi lm , the spec tator does not experiencc he r/himself playing a role in th e eve nts. T hey happen-the film plays-and the spectator s.impl y looks on. What be com es masked in th is situation is the structuring dynam ic behind the events: w ha r (he spectator sees on the screen is not sim ply there to be secn, but crea ted specificalIy with the spectator's loo k in m ind. Every event on the screen a nticipares a spectator who completes it through the act of wa tching. Rather than being llninvol ved with a nd distanced from th e even ts 00 the screen, the spcctator is fu 11 y enm eshed. 9 Not ooly d oes the com bina tion of distance a nd p roximity inform the cinematic view ing siwation irself, but ir also informs the societal atti tud e ro che cinema as such. Spectato rs kee p the cincma itself at a dis lance by consig ning ir te> tbe rea lm of fan la sy alld ~n'i ll ¡'; i l : I~ :1 place of escape from lheir dail y rea li ty. [f we try In Ihill" tlllllIl~ 1t '''' _ di ~'l ,r bil1g
TII E IM POSS IOL E 0""' 1[) I YNCH
or traunutic naturc of a film we have seen, we often hear-or even say to ourselves- that "it's just a movie." Th e common practice of critics calling hit films "grea t rides," as if the cinema were ao amusement park, fits into this pattern of distancing. [f we conceive of the cinema solely as an escape, thcn we dissociate ourselvcs from what takes place there. O ne goes to the cinema for fun, for release, but never for an ex perience that migh t impact one's real life. E\'cn films that don't promise fun in thc traditional sense-likc MonJter (Patty Jenkins, 2003) or Schindler's L ú t (Steve n Spiel be rg, 1993)--offer us a glimpse of a foreign world tha r we tend to see as ha ving no rdation to our own. At the sam e time that spectators relega te cinema to the status of an escape, they also accept the rea lity of w hat they see in the cinema. Spec tatoes distance themselves from the cinema and its effects by acknowl edging its purel y fantasmatic status, and yet when they go to the cin ema, they take the images on the screcn seriously. As spectators, we Lend to end ow fi lm w ith what Joe! Black calls the "reality effect." Ac cord iag to Black, "one of film's key effccts has been to provide viewers with a kind of enhanced, X-ray vision tha t all ows them tú feel that they can penet rate che veil of supcr.ficial appea rances and see the hidden structu re of reality ir.sclf."'" T he a bility to "see the h idden structure of reality itself" is, ofcoursc , false, bu t it nooetheless infor ms tbc na ture of m e cin ematic experience. As a result, the "escape" from rea lity-the cinema itself- bccomes the priv ileged si te fol' d etermi_ning the way in whi ch rhe subject unde rstands thar reali ty.
Jean-Luc Godard as Alternativa
In re ~ ponse lO the situa tion of tbe cinematic spectator, radicall theorists and fi lmm akers of the 1960s and r970s called for a cinema that es chewed th e im agi nary proxirnity of the typical Hollywood film and [oreed spectators to recogru ze their alienation. Thcy adopted an ap proach to the cinema that m irrored Bertolt Brecht's approach to the rheater. In his politici zed theater, Brecht wants to produce detached spectato rs wh o are aware of mci r detachm ent and in no \Vay prone to idenrifi cation with w hat happens on stage. As Brecht puts it, "The es scntial poia t of the cpi c theatre is perhaps that it appeals less to the feel ings !.han rh(" spectator's rea sull. lnstead of sharing an cxper ience the spectJtor mu st C()mc LO g rips w ith th ings." 11 Brecht's spectator watches
I NrrRO o u C,T ION
distance, which is what distinguishes his spectator from the traditional
mas ks the Jomination that inheres in he rlh is very symbolic positio n as an authority figur e. Shelhe appears warm and accessible, but this oh
cinematic spectator. In order to facilitate greater understanding on the
s cure~ the symbolic, structu ra 1 distance betwee n th e authority figure
spectator's part, Brecht's theater challenges spectators to experience
and us as ord ina ry subjects. Exposing rhe symbolic authority be nea th
their actual social position without its fantasmatic rerricve. Transferring Brecht's theoretical innovations from the theater to the
Lhe imag inary g uise becomes a political proj ect. Similarly, theorists like
cinema, film theorists and filmmakers embraced a filmm a king style
by confronti ng th e imag ina ry mode in w hich we experience it.
tha t foreg rounded spectator distance fmm the activities on the screen a nd took up what Brecht calls the "alienati(ln-effect." l o the same essay
tance from tb e events on the screen represcn ts the only possi bili ty fu r an
from a distance but always remains aware thal shelhe watches from a
M ulvey a nd Metz w a nt to lay ba re che symb<Jlic structure of the cinema A ccording to m ese theorists, making spectators awa re of their dis
proximity, Laura Mulvey chamrions precisely this type of response:
:llte rnative cinema. The atte mpt to go the other way-to iocrease tbe spectator's sense of proxi mi ty and eli m inate the spectator's sym bolic
The first blow against the monolithic accumulation of traditional
dista nce-cannot succeed. Distan ce is, for tbese theorists, the sine qua non of the cinematic experi ence, a nd proximi ty is a lways an illusion
io which she denounces classical Hollywood cinema's use of imaginary
film conventions (already unde rtaken by radical film-makers) is to
that attempts
free the look (lf the camera into its materiality in time and spaee
can struggle against the im aginar)' proximi ty th at the cine ma crea tes,
to
hide thi s fun da m ental fact o f the cinema. Filmmak e rs
and the look of the audience into dialectics, passionate detachment.
but they can't do an ym ing about the distance thar ex ists bctwee n the
There is no doubt that this destroys the satisfaction, pleasure and
spectato r and the screen w hi ch is the resul t of th e facts of film ex hibi
privikge of the "invisible guest," and highlights how fi lm depended
tio n and cven the social o rder itse\f. Layers of mediati on sepa rare the
on voyeuristic acti ve/rassi ve mechani sm s. J2
specta to r from the events él film depicts. T he ecanomic sys tem that pro duces the film, tbe directo r's visiono the technologica l a ppa ratus lh at
Mulvey's goal for radical filmm aking- "passionate d etachment"-is a state in which the spectator thinks rather than hlindly id enti fies. Mul vey
Jisplays the fil m-lh ese fo rces a nd others mediate w hat m e spectator sees 011 the screen , and one cannot si m ply elim inale them .
ehamrions films that privilcge the symbolic situatedness o f the specta
Th is is w h y Constance Penley takes issue w ith supposed radical film
tor--or, as Christian Merz puts ir, fi lms that "attempt to disengage the
makers who attempt to rely so lely o n ra dical images to shoc k spectato rs ¡nto change. Such filrnmakers, according to Pen ley, ioev itably contrib
cinema-object from the imaginary and to w in it for the symbolic." '3 T his allusion to psychoanalytic theorist Jacques Lacan 's categories of
ute lO the very cinematic fa~cinatio n and imagina ry blin d nes~ that they
experience-the imagi na ry and the sym bolic-provides anothe r way
setout to con tes t. T his is beca use, ac w rding to Penlcy, "Jmages have ve ry
of undcrstanding the relation ship betwecn proximi ty and distance in
little a na lyrical powc r in them sel vcs; their power of identificatian and
the cinema. The symbolic order, fo r Lacan, is the order ofla nguage and
fascinatian is too strong. T his is w hy there must alw ays be a commentary Oll the image simul taneousl y w ith the com mcntary of and with them." '4
society: it provides the structure that organizes our social rcal ity and crea tes the identities that we inhabit. This order underlies the visible
Peoley 's criti que he re call s for a film maker w ho wo uld forsa ke the fa lse
world and thus rem ai ns la rgely invisible, though its laws determine
lmmediacy of the cinem atic imaginary fo r a filmm a king style that high
much of what happens in the visible ",orld . It functions through ah
lighted the symbolic mediatian alw a ys at work but unperceived in the cine m aric experience. The m ost prom inent filmm aker who embodies
sence, shaping our li ves in wa)'s that \\ie remain unaware of. What we see, in contrast, is the imaginar)', a world of images that appear to be immediately presento The imaginary deceiv es us imofar as ir hides the underlying symbolic structure that urholds it. f nr i n~ t;lI1 cc. lhe imag e
lhis theorerical aspirati on is und o ubted ly Jean-Luc Godard (though it predomi na tes l.hroughout avant-ga rde cine ma).15
of an authority figure. as a gcnuincly carill¡..\
ing
T'-IE 'MP OSS ' BLE
DAVID LYN C II
IlI"f'" I I. l \l"1
ir ir b lrue,
G oJ
fi lll1. By duillg Ihi~, he aims to b reak the fa scinating powc r o fth e
I N ' ~OD U C T I ON
cinema over the spectator and create awareness of the process that pro duces the events on the screen, thereby facilitating a more thoughtful engagement betwee n the spectator and the film -a more dialectical ex perience. As Pascal Bonitzer notes, "the image, since GoJard, has been affirmed as resolutely false."16 Even as early in his career as A Bout de souffle (Brea thless , 1960), the jump cuts and self-conscious allusions to other films have an aliena ti ng effect that highlights the constructed na ture of the image. As he develops as a filmmak er, however, this quality becomes more pronounced (in films such as Vivre sa vie IMy Life to Live, 19 62 ], Les Carabznzás [The Rifleme12 , 19(,31, and Pierrot lelou [19651). Le MépriJ (Contempt, 1963), for instance, begins with a long tracking shot of a tracking shot being shot by the actual cameraman for the film while we hear the film's credits rcad aloud. This beginning confronts the spectator with visual evidence that hreaks down any illusion of proxim ity to the events that will follow. Ir signals to the spcctator that the events are not real and are, in fact, thoroughly med,i ated. Later in the 19605, Godard develops this aesthetic fu rther in Week Hnd (19 67), wherc we see shots oftex t intersperscJ at points in the film intcr rupting an cxtraordinarily long tracking shot. [n addition, the second half of the film completely unravels the narrati vc structure that opens the film, thereby demanding that the spectator recogni ze the cOl1str ucteJ nature ofme filmic narrati ve- anJ of all filmic narrative. The viewer of Week F:nd constantly has her/ his immed iate rda tion to the film inter rupted by blatant intrusions of media tion. T hi s film, lik e almost all of Godard 's films, aims to eliminate the halluci nato ry proxi mi ty chat seem s to inhere in the cinematic situation and tú allow th e speccator to wa tch from a distance. 1n doing so, m ese films work to strip away the lie of the cinema, to make it a 1e5S fantasmatic experience. Goda rd 's subsequent films move cven more raJically in this direction. His aim remai ns con stant: alienating the spectator into a proper g rasp of cinematic distance. Goda rd wants to create a ci nema of mediation as part ofa struggle against
Hollywood and bourgeois id eology's illusion ofimmediacy. The hope underl ying this type of cinema is actually a fundamentally anti-cinematic one. Ir aims to use the cinema tú assist the spectator in transcending the cinema's fascination. The ideal specta tor for this alter native cinema will escape the seduction of fanta~ y a mi thu s be able to see the actual structure of the cinema a mI (Ir Sll~ ¡l'l y il ~l·1 r. T h:l t is. the ideal subject will see th e real íty Oflhl"
THE IMP OS $ IBLE D AV I D
LYNCl~1
p l"l ll llll 11111 1
I IIIlÚ :~' r:l1 her rha n
th e fascinating comrnoJities that disguise this proccss. By accomplish ing this, th e spectator will be on tbe way to becoming él raJical suhject ready to cha nge existing social relations beca use this spectator will no longer be blin d to the way tbings rea lly are. Idea lly, such a spectator wiJl overcome commodity fetishism itself, in wh ich, according tú Ma rx's famous form L1lation, "a definite social relati on between men ... as sum es ... the fanrastic form of a rdation hetween things."17 By expos ing the im age as constructcd, as the product of él "definire social rela tion," Godard's films attack this form of fascination at a site (the cin ema) where it usually predominates. G rasping one's alienation in the cinema would become the key, ultimately, to revolutionizing capital.ist society. The problem wi th the attempt lO create él spectator whom the cin ema does not seduce is its tacit assumption: it imagines that th e specta tor can attain apure view ing position. Th e Brechtian aesthetic forgets about the d esire of the spectator and fails to see haw desire necessarily impli ca tes the spectato r in what occurs 00 th e screen. Even though dis tance ís inherent ín th e ci nema tic viewing situa tion itself, no spectato r can remain completc\y d istanced, evcn from a G oda rd film . Some e1c ment or fascin ation remains at work and continues to i.ovol vc the spec tator in m e i mages on th e screen--oy e/se the spectator would simply walk out 01 the film. In othe r words, a film's alien ation-effect has to fail to sorne extent in order fo r the fil m to retain th e desire o f ¡ts spectators. Thc sLlccessfuJly d istanced specta to r ccases tú be a spectator at all. The impossíbil ity of rhe pure spectator condemns rhe Brechrian aes m etic to an une nding pursuit, but d oes n't necessarily ind icate that the pursu it itself is \.vrong beaded. T he deeper problem with me opposition to cinema tic fascinar íon líes in íts conception of .vhat moti va tes politi cal activ ity ancl change. T his position contenJ s that knowleclge itself seeing how things reall y are, how the procluction process really \Vorks, ete.-has a ra J icali zing effccr on spectators and su bjects in general. Ac co rru ng to this view, subjects accept their subjection to an oppressi ve social ord er only because they fail lO recogni ze that an e1eme nt of fasci nation has Juped them into this acceptance. Thus, the th inking goes, if we remove me fascination and expose the rclations of production as they actuall y :lrt~. we w ill produce radical subjects. But kn owledge vvirhour dl'~ i n d
111l_c\O IJ " ' I U N
.,
through the prcv ailing ideology and yet continue to obey.1H For in stance, \Ve continue ro cnjoy the gratuiwus sex scene in IVaYlle'J fVorld (Penelope Sp heeris, 1992) even when a su'btitle labels it as such, or \Ve continue to suppon wars even when we see through the deceptive ra tionale g iven for them. Subjects aclopt a position of cynical distance in which the tra nsparency of th e game becomes pan of the game itself. 1n this sense, a cinema that emphasi zes distancing the spcctator only plays into the hand of contempora ry ideology. The further lacu na in the Brechtian aesthetic is its inability to con sider a motivarion for political change \vithin fascination itself. Though fascination accommodates subjects to their subjection, it also has the ability ro encourage them to challenge that subjection . This is beca use fantasy as such em erges in order to cover up a teal gap within ideology or the symbolic ord er. Lacan uses the ter m "real" as a third category of cxperience (in addition to imaginar)' and symbolic) to indicate the in complctcness of the symholic structure, its fa ilure ro constitute itself as a coherent w hole. Ideology use s fantasy to shore up its point of greatest weakness- the point at w hich its explanations of social phenomena brea k dow n-and tbis injects a potential radicality into every fantasy that proponcnts ofthe B rechtian aesthetic faíl tosee. In the act of decry ing fan tasy as an im agina ry manipul ation, the proponents of a di stanc ing cinema fa il to see the real moment w ithin every fa nta sy. It is this m om ent that th e fi lm s of David L yn ch em p hasize.
The Proximity of David Lynch Dav id Lynch began m aki ng films at the Pennsylvan ia Acad emy ofFine Arts in Ph iladelphia, w here he initial ly we nt to beco me a painter. His first film , Six Figures Gettillg Sick (1967), w hich he made there, lasts one minute and repea ts on a continuous loop. A fter directing a four-minute foll ow-up film, T he Alphabet (1968), he moved tú Los Angeles, w here he attended th e Am erican F il m I nstitute and made a 34-minurt' fi ,lm entitl eJ The Grandmother (1970). E ach of these early shorts evinced ,y nch's interest in using film as a fantas 01atic m edium, but it is The Gral/dmother that inaugurated thc fundam ental ;1 csthct ic stru cture d1at wou ld dom inate Lynch's fealU re fil ms. In [972. l..ynch rl'~c i vl' d $ro.ooo fr om MI to make EI"I.JScrhead ([ 977), wh idl II( prn pllwd as another short. After five year~ ofprep m cluc tillll, ~llIttllill ¡':. Il1d 1 1I1~l pr()du ctio n ,
10
[H E I MPQSS IBLE DAVI J) ,Y NC H
it became Lynch's first feature, bcgin ning a carecr in the cinema that stands out likc no other. Lynch's distincti ve ness stems from his ability to exist withi.n main stream cinema and independen t cinema simultaneously. His fiLms of ten show at the local multiplex , and he has received three Academy Award nominaLÍons for Bes t D irector (for The F:!ephant Alan 119 80 1, Blue Velve! [1986], and Muiholland Orive [200rJ). Hc is not simply a di rector cel ebrated at Can nes and ignored in Los Angeles. But his films also challenge vi ewers in ways that few Othcr widel}' distributed films do. They contain d istur bing imagcs (l ike the sexual assault of Lula [L aura D ernJ in Wild at Heart 11990)), narrative confusion (Iike the trans form ation of the main character into someone else in the middle of Lost High way Ir9971), and un usual shot sequences (Iike the opening montage in Blue Velvet). Lynch's films do not always receive a we!come reception al1l ong critics or the public, but the bare fact that ,films such as his gain widesprcad attention ar all is startling . . This book is an attem pt ro come to terms with the incongmity of Ly nch's positio n w ithin coIltemporary cinema and to link this incon g rui ty w ith t he acsthetic that Lynch develops in hi s films. Lynch 's work has occasioned sorne important work s of critic ism, including Michcl C hi on 's David Lynch (BFT, 1995) and Sta voj Zizc k's T he Ridiculous Sublime: On David Lynch\ "Lost Highway" (Uni versity of Wash ington Prcss, 2000), bu t only one book -lc ng th stud y dcaling wi th L ynch's films fro m a sustaincd theo retical perspective- Ma rtha Nochimson's The PassiorJ ol DavId L )I11c1I: Wild al Heart in Hollywood (Uni versity of exas P ress, 1997)·19 For N och il1lson, Lynch is the poe t of the creative power of the su bconsciou s. His film s e ncourage us to let go of our fan tasies of controll ing others and access, via our empathy, the real connec tions between peopl e. According to this theory, Lynch is a realist, anti fantasma tic film m ake r, a fi lmmak er opposed to standard Hollywood practice. H is fil ms don 't strike us as realistic beca use we are so enmeshed in
I I¡ UQ IIU CT II1N
11
the aim of altering the spectator's relationship ro the given social reality,
within it. To tbis e nd , his pe rsonal idiosyncrasies function as an exten
th ey go about accomplishing this in opposite ways. Whereas Godard
sion of this fundamental idea informing his film s. Tbro ugh th e wa)'
(like many alternative filmmakers) works ro alienate spectators and
tha t Lynch engages in them , behav iors central to Ame rican mythology
force them to recognize their Jistance from the images on the screen,
take on an alien a ppea ra nCt:. T his leads P au l W oods ro labe! Lynch "an
Lynch tries ro close this distance to an even grea ter extent than typi cal
All-American M artian 80y."22 Ly nch 's child hood in small-town Mis
Hollywood films. I f Godard is a filmmaker of distance, Lynch is a film
soula, Montana, his success in the Boy Scouts (bccoming a n Eagle
maker of proximity. But Lynch does not create proximity in the wa y \Ve might expect
Scout), hi s da ily trips to th e local B ig Boy resta ura nt, an d his del ive ring
by deconstructing th e binary opposition hetween fantasy and daily rea l
of th e norm in a way rhat causes ir to seem irregular Or strangc.
ity, between the outside world ¡¡nd the cinema. Unlike traditional alter
the WaLl StI-eef ¡ouma! to fin ance Eraserhead all ev ince his embodiment But ir is L ynch 's mode of drcss that best reveals his reJation to normal
native filmmakers, Lynch has no interest in deconstruction beca use
ity. During th e 1970s, fashion dictated that th e shirts of stylis h men
deconstruction involves sustaining oneself at a distance from the oppo
should be u nbuttoned e noug h to revea l their chest. T his style, popular
sition that one is Jeconstructing. 21 Rather than complica te or eve n und o
ized by, among othcrs, Jo hn Travolta in Saturday Night Fever (John Bad
binar)' oppositions, Lyn ch revels in them . Not only that: he push es bi
ham, ' 977) signified re beLliousness against the office dress code tha t de
nar)' oppositions to an extreme. In his films we see stark oppositions in
manded a coat and tie. O n e opened ooe's shirt and felt one's radicality.
character, in mise-en-sce:ne, in editing stylc, and in narrative structure.
The more buttons unbutto ned , the more radi cal. The conserva tive op
This is apparent, for in stance, in the opposition between th e two worlds
tion in volved leaving ju st the rop butto o undone. L ynch too k- a nd sti ll
of John Merrick (John Hurt) in Th(;' F.!ephant Man : the propriety of
takes- this conservnri ve position one step furth e r a nd buttoned his sh irt
l\ l1crrick 's daytime existen ce at the hospital contrasts ahsolutdy with th e
all the wa y. W ith out an accompanying tie, the shü t ful ly buttoned takes
perversity a nd ugliness of his nights there. During the day, T reves (An
o n an odd appearan ce, especially at a time when fas h ion d icta tes :l O un
thony Hopkin s) and Merrick 's visitors treat M errick with kindness and
buttoned look . O ne looks at Lynch wi th the fu ll y b u ttolled shi rt, and one
respect, whereas at night, the night porter (Michael Elphick) and lhe
sees somethi ng srran ge-pe rhaps evcn rad ica l- bul not somethin g u ut
visitors he brings to see Merrick treat hi m as a freak , retu rn ing Merrick
side the ma instream. H is a ttire brings lO light the odd ity o f the m ai n srream itself.
e motionall y t0 hi>~ days in the carnival und e r the vieious co nt rol ofBytes (Freddie J ones). Some such opposition structures a ll of Lynch 's films ,
ync h 's style of drcss is imporra n t o n ly insofar as it fo llows from and
and in each case Lynch sustai m; the oppos iti on throug h out th e film ,
¡lI umina tes h is filmic p roject. H is fiJms a re excessi vcl y normal in pre cisely the same way. T hey create a d ivision betwee n the rea lm of desire
con tributing ro the bi za rre quality ofh is \vork. Ironi ca ll)', the films seem bizarre to
precisely because of the exces
and the rcal m of fa ntasy, between the ex igencies of socia l rea lity a nd our
si veness of thei r normality- a nother twist in the separa tion hetween a
psychic respite from those exige ncies. 23 T his n ear-absolute division in
filmmaker such as Jean -Luc Godard and Lynch . \Vh e reas G odard aims
Ly nc h 's films plays a m ajo r pan in the quality ofme biza rre tha t we find
at offering an alternative to bourgeois cinema
in m em , and ye t this type ofse pa ration betwee n socia l reaLi ty ;.¡nd fantasy
w ants ro embody it funy. He is , in a word, bizarrely normal. This is
rep resents the very d efini tío n of n o rma lity.
LIS
what separa tes Lynch from so many of the other filmm a ke rs existing
W e tend to th ink (lf nor mali ty as culturally rel a ti ve and thus as be
on th e outskirts and outside of Hollywood. By taking up mainstream
reft o f theorericaJ sig nin.cance: the norm in one culture is abnormal in
filmm a king who leheartedly, he reveals th e radicality and pe rve rsity of
ano ther ; ga y partners hold ing ha n ds in publ ic is norma l in New Yo rk
the mainstream itself. He is too mainstream for th e tn ain ~tre:'l m .
C ity and It n.JCceprahle in r ural K'lmas. Ru t hy tracing how the d es iring
Throu g h th e ac t oftaking normality rll it~ I Clgi~,d tx t rcm~, Ly nch re vea ls h ow th e bi zarre is not oppos('.! to
12
rtlF IM PO S SI BlE DAVID I YNC It
tll l
IIl1t 111 .11 Inrt ¡nhere nt
su b jc:ct ('(Itl1l'~ ¡m/) IK ing, a
norr ll .t1lt v
t .ll i
1l111fl'
lhcu rl· ti"ally \ ig nificant conceptinn o f
hnlltllc vi\ihlc.; TIK dt.:\lri ng Stlh ,l'ét éill t.: rgc:s whcn an
IN I "OOUC 11 01'1
1',
individual encounters social demands-demands for sociall y acce pt able behavi or- fro m parents or some othcr soc ial authority. In. L acan's idiom, this fig ure w ho embod ies the social arder and its regu lations is rhe Other. The subj ecr enlers the soci al order confranted w irh rhe O th er's articul ated dem ano, hut th is demand conceal s u narticulareable dc si re. We hear a demand fro m an autho rity fig ure-"Clean up your room' " or "Do as you're told' ''-but we don 't know exactl y w ha t the authority reall y desires from uso 0 11 one level, of course, the auth ori ry just Wallts us to obey, bur no au thori ty wan ts st ri c! obedience. T he un imaginativ e child or studeot w ho follo ws every ru le to the len er inev i tably disappoints the parc nt o r teacher even more tha n th e rebe\. F ol lowing every rule to the le tter indica res that one has not seeo the desirc benea th the demando The subj ec t rece ives demands fram the O ther, but no words can teH the subj ec t w hat the Other desires. W hen we confront a demand, \Ve can ask the Other w har shelhe l't'uLiy wan ts fro!11 us, but th e O ther can o nly ans.ve r in words, w hich wi ll produce anothe r q uestion as to what d esir e th ose wo rd s are hiding. W hen, in BLue Ve/vet , JefErey Beau mont (Kyle MacLachlan) confron ts the demand of D etective W illiams (George Dickerson) rhar he put an end ro any iote rcst in the case ~ ur roundin g the derached ea r that he fo und , ir is not at all cl ea r whal De tec ti ve Wi lliams reall y desires . His o emand is unambiguolls, but one can also surmise thar he app reciates Je ffrey's inre rest in the intricacies of police inv estigarion. W hen Je ffr ey defies Dctecúve Will iams' explici t demand a nd pursues hi s ow o investigarion, he is fo ll owing-or beueves thar he is foll ow ing-rhe dcsi re mat lies be neath th is dem ando T he point is not that Detective W illiams ma kes a hypocritica l demand but rhat all dem ands coneeal sorne desire. T he depthlessness o f sig nifi crs as Joan Co pj ec insisrs, "sigl1ifien- are not transparellt"24- inevitahl y crc ates a sense of mysrery concerning tbe desire rh at m ight lie be neath. The subj ec t's desire arises out of the encounter w ith the indecipherable desire of the O ther, and in this sense, as Lacan often repeats, o ne's desire is the desire of the O th er. The p roblcm of this desire is tha t it is al ways elsewhere; we can neve r pin it do wl1 , just like \Ve can never pin down the moment tha r is "now." F or rhe su bj ccr w ithin langunge (for every subject), ir is an irn poss ible object. A s desi ring subjeets, we li ve in a worl d nI ,l nl lj.'llI li'l1 l. Ik~in: nffcrs us rwo antagon isrie poss ihili ties--hav ill g 11 11 ,, 11) 11 1 , 1\ " \I',I\(·S 111 be t/It!
14
THf
lMP(J S S 1 B ~E
DAV I D lYtoI Cl t
objeer, or not hav ing thc object- a.ll d ne ither of rhese possihiliries are sarisfying. Bur anragoni sm is nor sirnply a negati ve ca tegory. Ir cons ri tutes our sense of rcality: the extc rn nl wu rld appea rs rea l to us beca use of the absencc of th e des ire of the O the r, the ahsence of the obj ect that would offer the subjeet the ultim are en joymen t. But this a lso mean s rhat this social (ca lity Ieaves liS never full y satisfied as su hj ects. Fantasy providcs a way fo r sub jecl ro bea r rhe dissatisfaction of the socia l reali ty. In thi s sense, it supplements the funcrioning of id col ogy and kccps subjects relativel y conten t with an imagina ry sarisfae rion. Through fa ntasy, we do the impossible, acccssi ng the imposs ihle desi re of rhe Orher ancl glimpsing the enjoyrnent rhat it promises. The Other's oesire becomes a secret thar one mig ht uncove r, not a co nst itu tivdy impossible objec r rhar exists on ly in irs absence. We don't neces sarily fantasize ohtaining th is impossible objecr and enj oy ing rh e pos sess ion of ir. In stead, fa nra sy construcrs a na rrariv e th ar explains the loss of th e objecr and/or poi n ts roward its recovery. This narrati vc gives mean ing ro the IOS 5 of th e obj ec t ano transforms rhe impossihlc objecr into a possible one. F or instanee, rh e fantasy o f hu manity 's expul sion fram the G a rden of Ed en allows us to believe rh ar pa rad ise is a possibil ity, even lhough ir is los t. Such an id ea offers us a feel ing of hopc amid sr rhe general ized di ssatis faction tha r characrerizes our cxperi ence of the object as an im possibil ity. But fa nrasy is not just a private compensation for public dissatisfac tion. Jt silcntly info rms our everyday cxperience oEthe social reality it self and has the effect of taki ng some oE its d issatisfac rio n away. F anta sy's trans form ati on of the Other's uesi re allows the subjecr ro expe rience a realíry w here the ultima re cnjoyment is a possi bi lity residing just be nea rh rhe su rface of things. Fan tasy hleeds into our expe ri ence of the ex rernaJ wo rl d and gi ves us ou r sense of the fullness of rea l ity. Bur the normal subject, in psyc hoanal ytic terms, mainra in s an abso lute d ivide berween social real ity and fan tasy- what F reud call s the ex terna l and (he interna l-and kno\Vs how to distin guish them. For rh e no rm al subj ect, as Freud puts ir, "what is unreal , merely a prese nra rion and subjective, is only internaJ; w hat is real is also th ere outside." 25 rvorma L thus m ea ns no con fusion of external and inrern al, social reality an d fantasy. This idea of norm aliry is not juSt a F reu dian ooe: most psychologists- ao o even mosr of the popula LÍon at large- accepr the id ea that 11 0fl ll : d 'lIbjccts are t hose w ith lhe ahil iry tú disringu ish w hat
me
I NI'QDUCl IOt-l
15
really happens in the world from what th e)' fantasizc. Such normality, however, is impossible a prio ri : no one experiences reality without sorn e fantasma tic in vestm ent. Which is tu say that what we fantasize that w e will see info rms w hat we do see.:<6 Nonethelcss, according to the strict ps)'c hoanalyti c dcfmition, nor mality allows no such confusion, which is w h)' psych oa nal)'sis also recog ni zes that we ne ve r encountcr a normal subject. T he re is always some slippage bet\vee n normality on th e one hand and neurosis and psychosis on the other. U nlike the "nor ma !" suhject, neurotics and ps)'chotics don 't experi ence things so clearly. Th e psychotic confuses reality and fantas y and experiences them as equiva lcnt, whilc the ncurotic sceks in fantasy a substitute satisfaction fo r w hat she or he did not fin d in rcality. Hence, for the psychotic eve ry expe ri ence, even a fantasma tic one, seems rea l, ano for the neurotic every ex perience, even a rea l one, has at lcast a hint offantasy. There is, in ooth cases, a blurring of the lines. 27 This hlurring of the lines occurs in most films as wd!. Narrative fi lms typica lly revolve around th e in termixing and interaction of desire and fantas)'. Desire fuds the movement of narrati ve heca use it is the search for answe rs, a process of questioning, an opening ro possibility. Fantasy, in contrast, provid es an ans wer to this gues ti oning, a solution to the enigma of desire (albeit an imaginary one), a resolu tio n of unce r tainties. In ou r experience of most fi lms-fi lms that have an ev ident na rrati ve co herence-the rela tionship between desire and fantasy ap pea rs seamless: we ca n't readily delineate the p recise moment ar wh ich we pass from d es ire to fan tasy, nor do they a ppear as sepa rate rcalm s. Instead, fanta sy is constantly there, clear ing up desire's ambigu iries. We don't know exactly what will happen next, but we do feel secure in a reality replete w ith meaning-a reali ty in which evell ts fun damenta!!y m ake sen se. It is the task of fantas y lO provide us wirh this sense of in habiting a t ruly meaningful reali ty, a reality in w hi ch m ea ning itself is not up for grabs. 2B T he rel ation between desire and fantasy in film may becom e cleare r light of a film that offers littl e fanLasmatic resoluti on-C h ristopher in Nolan's Memento (2000). Th ough o ne quiekly adjusts to the (ge ne rall y) backwa rds movement of the film's na rration, one cannot construct an una mbig uous account of the evc:nts rha t the film s ll gg ~s r s have ha p pened. N o maner how m any times a Speel:ll
16
lH[ IMPO SS IOL E DAVID LYNCJI
could not discover the truth of rhe fil m's central eve nt: how th e \Vife of Leonard Shelby (Guy Pearcc) died, ano vvho was rcsponsi'hle for her dcath. This e\ie nt motivates rhe ~c ti o n in lhe film , a,n d the Ifw rrativc mov cs in 'lhe direction ofth is m ysl<:ry. But it remai os completcl y eni g mati c. The film prompts specta tor d esire for a sol utio n bUIt dnes not pro vide the fantasm atic scena rio that wo uld allow the solution to appear. The impossible obj ect remain s impossihle even a t th e end of m e film. Rather than providing a (fan tasmatic) solu tion to rhe crime, the endi ng shows us ool y L eonard's wi ll ful self-deception th ar puts hi m on rhe track of someone he doesn't thi nk is res ponsible. Memento sticks out beca use it proviJes a world of desire in a relatively plLre form, not b!ending it with fanta sy.19 In me ver)' commo n films that blur me line betwccn d esire and fan tasy, we neve r have an initíal experience of desire in its p urity prior to th e onset of bntas)', jusr as we don 'r initia lly expe rience a qllestion apa rt from sorne idea of a n answer, or d ou bt witholltsom e kind of certainty. F antasy, in other words, exists alongside desire from the beginning, structurin g its very path ; it isn't so methwg added 0 11 te desire after the fa ct. In this sense, fil ms tha t blu r the Une betwee n dcsire and fa nta sy bcst approxim ate ou r q uotidian experi ence oFthe world , in w hic h fa n tasy saves us from havi ng tú en dure the inherenrly trau matic desire of the Omer un prepared . Fantasy is the set of bli nders rhat obscures rhe trau matic (unanswerabl e) qucstíon that this desire asks of USo We can see th is clcarl y in the case of film noif. I~ the fi gu re of the fe mm e [ata le, desirc and fa ntasy ope rare sim ulta neously: on the one haod, shc is a traum atic fig ure fo r the spectator and the noir hero-we confront her traumatic d esire and a re thereby reduced to the position of me dcsiring subject-but on the other, she fi ts nea dy into our fantasy fra me precisely inso far as she is a fcmme fata le, a representative of t ransgr essive pleas urc. F or insta nce, "vhen Phyllis D ie trichson (Barbara Stanwyck) ma kcs her famous appea rance at the top of the sta irs wear ing onl y a ro wcl in Double Indemnity (Billy W ilder, 1944), Walter N cff (F red MacMu rra y) and the spectator see her th rough the lens of fa n tasy-as lhe licentious femme fatale. W hen we see hcr as femm e fatale, we have;: an initial fa ntasmatic frame.: th rough w hich to ma ke sense of her and her J e:;ire. I n other wo rds, ( r llm t he beginni ng we know thar she mt'a n¡; t rullble. A ll [he indi:;cc rnihilily
I t ll ROU U CllON
1/
the film-up tu her inability to shoot Walter nea r the film's end emerge against the back ground of this initial fantas matic [rame. Our relation ship to P hyIlis and her desire doesn't exist apart from the fan tasm atic imagc ofher as femme fa ta lc. In Double lndemnity- as in m ost films and as in Our everyday ex pe ri encc-the worlds of d es ire and fan tasy overbp and com m ingle . Lyn ch's filrns, howeve r, attempt lO hold these worlds separate)O This separation marks the begirm ing of Lynch 's imposs ibl e cinema. The idea of apu re desire, a d esire unmediated by [an tasy, is itsel [ the ulti ma te fantasy; desire does not exis t prior to fan tasy but emerges ou t of it. Fantasy does not simply provi dc an answe r for the question posed by desire; instead, desire poses the questi on for the an swe r that fa ntasy provides. Or, as Slavoj Zizek puts it, " It is only throug h fantasy that th e subject is constitutcd as desiring: th rough fantasy, we learn how to de sil'e."3' Hence; Lynch's depiction of the wú rld of dcsire prior ro fantas)' would be un thin k able outside the fantasma tic mcdium of film ilse lf. He uses filmic fa ntasy tu prcse nt desire in its imm ed iacy and the reby aJ!ows us to sce precisel y how desirc a nd faotas)' interrela tc. Lync h's film s present the distinct worlds of desi re and fa ntasy through radical di fferences in form w ith in each film . T he model fo r his films is The Wizard ofOz (Victor Fle ming, 1939), w hich creates a d ivi sion betwee n the social rea li ty of Ka nsas and the d rea m 'No rld of O~ . F lemin g uses blac k-and-w hite photograph y [O depi ct th e d issalisfac tion Dorothy (Jud y G arland) feels in Kansas a nd colo r tO ind ica re tbe enj oy rnent that the O z fa ntasy hrings. The fi rst pan (l f the fi lm foll ows the logic of d es ire insofa r as Dorothy seeks a satisfaction tha r seems constitutively d en ied to her. N o one pays attention to he r on the fa m ily ranch, and hcr on ly fri end, her dog To to, faces execLl tio n fo r his unru ly behav ior. In K an sas, sh e can lo ng for a n impossible obj ect tha t exis ts "somewhere over the rainhow," hut ir is cl ea r that she ca nnot arta in it. The turn ro the w o rld of Oz changes Dorothy's fortu ne com pletely. She beco mes the ce n ter of attention, the source of hope for others , and a hero for havin g k ill ed the W icked W itch of the East. Even the diffi cul ties th at she enco unters brin g an excitement an d enjoyment ch at weTe impossi ble in K ansas. The fan tasmatic land o f Oz sol v e~ Lhe dilemmas rhat the Ka nsas section of the fil m, th e world 01' d e~ire. pn :se nts as in soluble. Th e emergc ncc o f colo r photogr:lph y i~ ,11 1l0 <' l· 1lit el11t:rgeocc of new poss ibility.
18
nl~ I M POSS I Dl E
DA V I D I 'I'N' II
Though Lynch never uses this p rt:ci se way uf creating an opposition between social rea lity and faotasy, lhe id ea of the separation itself in forms each of his films Y In a film like Mulholla nd Dl'ive (2001), the dif ferences het ween th e drab social real ity in whi ch Dia ne (Naomi W atts) exists and the colorful fantasrna tÍc al tern ative w here she becomes Betty (also N aom i W atts) become almost as con spicuous as F lern ing 's split ting through th c use of d ifferent fi lm stoc k. Ly nch clai ms th ar T he Wiz ard ofOz "must've got insid e me w hen 1 first saw ir, like it did a million other people."33 He learm from it an aesthetic structure that allows him to separate twO filmic worlds and then li nk togethc r w hat has becn se p arated , u-\ough he ultimately uses this structure to far different ends tha n Flem ing, whose film uses the dream of O z to reconcile spectators to the monoton y of their Kansas. Taking The Wizard of Oz as bis point o[ departure, L ynch depicts worlds of desire by emphasiz ing the absence oE the object. These wo rlds are typica ll y spa rse an d bland, if nor bleak and desolate. The dark Light ing, stilted acting, mini m al décor, and an absence o f moveme nt within shots in the 6 rst pan of L ost Highway, for exarnple, contrib ute ro rhe m ise-en-scene th at is meant to spur spectato r desire. In Eraserhead, "ve see characters constit utively d epri ved of any enjoyment-that is, stuck in the d issatis facrion and lack rhat is desire-but even more, we as spec tators experi ence ou r own sen se of lac k when confronted w ith an image m at is largely d a rk and emp ty. T hese worlds of d esire bomba rd the spectator Wilh d isplays of absence. T he worlds of fan tasy in Lynch's films m ark a defi n itive contrasto Here, the excess anel heig htencd presence of th e fi lm ic im age th at we as sociare wi th cinem a as such bursts for th . Rather lhan endu ring the ab sence of lhe imposs ible object-cause of desire, the spectator fin ds ind ica tioos of th is ob ject eve rywhere, eithc r in specific characters like F rank Booth (Dennis Hopper) popu lating rhe underwo rl d in Rlue Velvet or in tbe brigh t and colorful setting we see w hen Laura Pa lmer (Sheryl Lee) fir st appea rs in Twlll PeakF Flre Wa1k with Me (1992). T h ro ugh their ex cessi veness, the fa n rasy worlds unleash enj oyment on borh the characters witbi n them and th e spectato r watching. As a rcsu lt, they a re as difficult lO exper ience as the worlds of desire, m ough for the opposite rcason. W hiJe watching the worlds of fan ta sy unfold io a Lynch fil m, one sees too rnuch of the objecl and enj oys too m ucho But th is al terna ting expe ri ence of absence and excessive prcsen ce is norm ality itsel f. By separating
I NnoD u C ll ON
19
the n.: alms of desire and fantas y, Lyncb's fiJms providc a n unsetu ing in sight into normality that everyda y Jife militates aga inst. One effect of this separ:ltion is to make clear the wa y in wh ich fan tasy acts as a compensation for what the soci al reali ty- the world in which we can only desire-doesn't pro vidc. Un li ke th e social real ity, fantasy provides the il!usion of deli vering the good s; it o ffers a fo rm of enjoyment for subjects lhat social reaJity cannot- like, for insta nce, [he enjoyment that comes from wa tching a filmic narrati ve un fold. This becomes clearl y visible in Lynch's filros , however, only beca use Lynch maintains a sepa ration between the world of social reali ry and that of fantasy, a separation as disconcerting as ir is reveaJin g . The separation between the world of des ire and the world offan tasy becomes increasingly pronounced as Lynch 's ca reer d evelops. lt is far more visible in Iater films such as L os! Highway or Mulholland D rive than earlier films likc E ra.'erhead and The Elep/lam Mall. Look ing at the films chronological!y, we can see Lynch constantly changing the way he crea tes opposing worlds, adding nuancc Js his career J cvclops, but rhe opposition itself remains consta nt. Each interp retarion tha t foll o\Vs wil! stress how cach fi lm extends a nd qualifics the imigh ts of lhe ea rl ie r films . W e w il! not see a straigh t line of p rogrcss but a path of aesmetic exploration and inc reasing comp lcxity. F ur th erm orc, in o rder to exam ine how Lynch ope rates differently w ith in the same meJ iu m (wh ich al ways provides similar possibi lities), 1 w iJ l res trict the focus in lrus book to his nine fc atu re fi lms , leav in g asid c hi s sho rt fi lms and his tele "ision work (inclu di ng Twin Peaks ). T he difficu llY oC the film s th em selves suffices without the fu rr ber complication s in troduced by Ule quesrions of medium specific ity and coll...boration. The difficulty o f Lynch's films d oes not lie so m uch in how subve r sive or radical they are, bu t in the fact that they o ffer a far m ore normal perspective than m ainstream Holl ywood film. They create an absolute division betwee n social rea lity and fan tasy, 'and thi s is a normal ity that \Ve arcn't used to seeing, eitbe r in Holl ywood or in ou r everyd ay J¡ves. As Freud points ou t, cven the most normal su b jcct we encountcr is ro some degree a neurotic; that i5 , she or he allows fa ntasy to shape hcr or his cx perience of reali ty,34 L ynch 's fil m s d isconccrt us precisely bccause ~ hey confront us with normal iry-and normalíty ~e('ms comrktely for eign. But in [be d iv ide betwecn de~ irc and C1I1 L"Y l.yllrh allm.v~ us to
20
THE IMPOSS I Blf DA V ID l YNC l 1
expcrience the cinema io a w.IY that challenges ilS ryp ical relationship with id eology.
The Impossible David Lynch
When cinema exists simply as an escape fo r spectarors-i.e., when films deploy fantasy wimollt full y in vesting the rn selv es in it- it can effec tively play the role of a fantasmatíc idcological supplement. That is, it can provide subjects with a m ode of enj oym cnt th at compensates for the dissatisfactions of th eir daiI y reality. If, for instance, subjects expcri ence dass antagonism in their li ves, [hey can enj oy the transcendence of this antagonism w hile watching the romance between the upper-class Rose (Kate Winslet) and the lowe r-class Jack (Leonardo DiCa prio) in Titanic (Jam es Cam eron , (997) and th ereby continue a contented exis tence within the wo rld of class antagonismo T he brief elimin ati on of class antagonism in the cinema provid es
IIII ROD U CT I O N
'1
in this way experi ences both the enjoym ent that fantasy brings and its psychic-and often material-costs. We might imagine a Lyn ch version of a television program like r.x treme Makeover, a rea lity show depi cting the com plete tran sformation of a person's appear:mce through the aid of plastic surgeons, beauticians, and other experts. Each episoue ends with the realization of a d ream: the once unattractive person m eets family and frienc1s in a changcd form, and ev eryone celebrates the impro vement, usually w ith tears anu hugs. One need not be a psycho,uulytic or Marxis t theorist to see how the real ization of the fantasy he re functions id eol ogically. not just by curing the participant of her dissatisfaction but by convincing spectators that a po tential cure for their o\\ln dissatisfaction exists \\Iith the propcr commod üies. The show docs noth ing ro arrest the beauty aesthetic that causes the suffering in the first place bllt works instead to increase spectator invest ment in ir. The limitation ofthis critigue is that it sees only the ideologi cal function of fantas)' where the hypothetical Lynch version of the show would reveal something further. The pleasure that spectalOrs derive fmm Extreme Makeover de pends on the point at "v hich it stops. The show depicts th e participant show ing off the new look, but it neve r shows LIS th e new life in its entirety. The Lynch version wOllld continue past the initial m eeüng an d show the new life that the makeove r created-perhaps follo wing rhe par tici pant for the next year. It would invest itself more fu lly in the fantasy than the actual Extreme Makeover rathe r than deconstrucring ir. We would see the participant discove r the surpassed old life return in th e ne\V one, w hich \Vould traumatize borh th e pa rticipant and the specta rol'. The underlying identity of th e excitin g alternative and the old te dious reali ty would become visible, dep ri vi ng us of tbe idea of another life where things would be differenr. T his is a f;:¡dical insight th at we cannot arrive at through sim ply denouncing fantasy; one must fully play it out. But Lynch's fi lms do Il ot depict fantasy in this unadulterated wa y in order lO display the dangers of fascinatÍon. The total experience of fan tasy that the Lynch film creates aims to trigger a spectator response of identification with the traumatic mom ent enacted with in the fantasy. Lynch offers the fantasmatic expe rie nce in ord er lo ra cilita lt! th is iden tification w ith wb at seem$ mnst di ~t;¡1l1 eroll t .mll li1rciglJ to us as spectators.
22
Tllf IMPOSStO LE DA VID IYN' 11
Of courSl:, not l:very c i.nem ~l li c spec lato r is lhe sa me, and film thcory has spent many ycars focused on the nuances of spectawr diffcrence. But such discussions ha ve as their foundation an empirical conception of the spectator: they im ply thar th e specrator is external to the film and thus don't focus on the way that fi lms internall y posit their ow n specta tors oE ve ry film demands a certain response. It is the ta sk of interpreta tion to locate düs d emand, and it i5 the task of the actual spectato r in the th ea ter to be adequatc to it. 35 This is especia lly im perative in the case of L ynch beca use ofhis approach to fa ntasy. I n Lynch 's films , the fan tasi es that the cinema enacts for us are not si m ply a nice diversion, but rather th ey house the truth of our being as spectators. Lynch's cinematic fantasies contai n the truth of our being insofar as they reveal wher e we direct our desire. Our everyday experience allows our own desire ro remain unconscious: we c! on 't see how our desire shapes what we see; we bclieve tha t we simply see w hal appea rs in the wo rld to be seen. By presenti ng us with an alternate fantasma tic 'vvorld vastly differcnt from our everyday experience, Lyllch creates a situat ion w here the di sto rtin g power of our desire becomes visibl e to us o O ur very in vestment in the fantasies tha t his fi lm s offer revca ls our uncon seious: we expe rience a fam iliaI ity in w har is com pletel y u nfamj[ia r..l ú In this way, Lynch's fil mrn aki ng tcsti fies ro ¡rs kinsh ip with Hege lia n pbilosoph y. H e is the Hegel of fílm m ake rs, one of rhe few d irectors to use ci nema to enact a process on the speclaror tha t Hegel c.an only descr ibe)7 Philosophical thi nki ng, in Hegel 's rn i.nd, involves "pure self recogn ition in absolute oche rn ess," a recognition that one'5 identi ty ex ists ou t5ide oneself in the ob ject that appears m ost other to oneself.38 This is the recogn iti on of whar Hegel ca lls speculati vc identi ty: in the aet of spee ulati ve identity, the subject grasps its connection with w hat it caunot encompass. Hegel beg ins tbe Phenomello1ogy of Spirlt wirh the complete op posi tíon of subject an d substance in order to be able to show the identity of what our thin ki ng fo rmul ares as most opposed. T he initial d iv ision is necessa ry, for H egel as for Lyn ch, in order ro make clear that rhe connec tion mo ves through absolute otherness rather than just eliminating it. Tbis leaves the subject no room for res pite, no difference into w hich it might escape. H egel's most powerfuJ example of specul ative id en rity de ri ves from the-discred i.ted, even during Hege! 's time-pseudosci ence of phrenolng-y. By link ing pe rson atity a lld illtdl igcn cc ro th e size and
!HIROO lt ff lrm
13
shape of thc skull, phrenology aJlows m to see the fundamental dcpcn
ters the very structurc of the filmi c world Y It is the sepa ration of the
dence of spirit nn its stupid materiality. For all its transccndcnce- and H egel thinks rhis transcendence is nonetheless real , w hich is why he im't a phrcnologist- s pirit cannot escape its inorga n ic origins.
worlds of desire and bntasv that rcnders this act visihle. In j:'rasahead, we see Henry attain the Radiator L ady, his fJnt ~lsy object; in F-fephant
Even our most profound speculative tho ug hts rema in dependent on our material being, though this specula tion believes thar it lea ves the material world far behind. As Hegel puts ir, "the actuality and exútellce
ofman is his skutl-bone."39 Ultimately, phrenology is n ot, for Hegel , the last word on spirit. But this is only beca use it does not ye t re present the most extreme form of speculati ve identi ty. The position of the a bsolute, which is wherc Hegelian philosophy a lways ends up, involves the sub ject seeing \-vhat it can't see-what Hegel calls "rhe negative of itself, or its limit."4 0 The subject recognizes that the li mir:Jtion on its u ndcr standing is in fact integral to its ver y ability to und e rst;:t nd . This is a recognirion mirroring that of the patient at the end of psychoanalysis who sees t hat "I am that": I id e ntify myself w ith the trallmatic object, and in doing so, I become who I alway s was. It is th e p rinc ipal virtue ofLynch's films to insist on speculati ve ide n tiry, thi s " self-recognition in absol ure otherncss." rn the experience of a Ly nch film, one can no longer slIstain a sense of di sta nce between o ne self as specta tor a nd the events on the screen beca use h is fi lm s reveal the und erlying ide ntity of every opposition. To return ro the example of The E lephant Man, we see the iden t ity of T rcves, rhe one w ho trcats Me rrick w ith kindness, a nd Bytes, rhe one "vho exploits him me rci lessly. As spectators we gladly iden tify ourselvcs w irh the he ro ism oC T reves a nd dctest the CrtIel ty of Bytes, but rhe ti 1rn forces us to sc:e how the ac tions of Treves mi rror those of Bytes, the reby implicating LIS in the ex ploi ta tion of Merrick . Tbere is no safe oppos it ion fur rhe specta tor in Ly nch 's cinema. Lyn ch's films d em a nd tha t the specta tor revalua te her/ his rdatio n ship to the cinema. The cinema i5 no longer an esca pe without an y co n nection to the outside worl d, nor is it a reality unto itsclf. ln stead, it is the re ve rse si de of tha t ou tside world-the fan tasmatic underside thar holds tbe truth of the btter. If we escape at all in Lynch\ cin em a, we es cape into the trauma thar re mains bidd en h UI nnI H.: lhdc~c; slructures the outside world . Despice me grea t va riety in rhcir su hjttl 111.1 11' 1', I.Yl1r h\ films al ways end the sa rne way-w ith ,11 1 illl ll"",d.I'I' 1 1lLll l' llId.lI l1 entallv 31
14
Tllr IM PO SS I DI. r OAVI IJ
I VNt:~1
Man, we see Jo hn Merrick become a nor mal person; in D une (1984), we see Paul create rain on a desert plane t; an d so on. E ach of rhese instances involves;¡ character fulfi Wng a fa ntasy a nd thereby breaking do w n the distance between the bn tasy world a nd the world of desire (with its constitutive dissatisfacti on). 1'0 return to Freud's terms, th ese a re cases where the internal successfully becomes th e exte rna!. These a re cases w hen the imposs ible becomcs possible. For Lacan, a link ex ists between impossibili ty and whar he caUs the real. Within cver)' sym bo lic order, the real occupies the pl ace of what cannot be tho ug ht or imagiJled -the position of the impossible. The rea l is not rea li ty but the failure of the sy mbolic order to explain every thing. W hen seen in this light, the imposs ible is not materially im possi ble but rather logically imposs ible as long as we remain within me cur re nt social structure . In Semzna l' XVfI , Laca n claims r.hat "the real is the impossibl e. N o t on accou nt of a sim ple stumblin g bloc k aga inst which we bang our hea ds, but because of the logical stumbling bl oc k o f what announces itself as impos5ible in the symboLic. Ir is from there th at me real a rises."4.l. W hat is impossible in me symbolic o rder is, in the rea l, perfecrl y ach ievabJe. It is in this sense of m e térm impossible tha t Lynch's fil m s allow us to experience ir acruall y tak ing place. They mus prov ide a fun da m ental ch allcnge to the rul ing sym bolic str ucture, for cing us to see poss ibi lities where we a re used to seeing impossibili ties. he even ts depicted within Ly nch 's films reflect the relationship with the spccta tor that rhese fil m s co nstructoJust as the cha racre rs in Ly nch 's films rnus t endure the realiza tion o f their fantas ies w ithout re spite, so must rhe specta tor of these fil ms. To watc h a David Ly nch film properl y is always to to uch th e screen , to find oneself be reft of the 5afe di stance thal the ve ry a rch itecture of rhe ci nema seems to prom ise. 43
i IlIP OO\Je. II ON
75
o NE
Sacrificing One's Head for an E raser
The Loss of the Life Subsfonce Ei-aserhead (1977) bega n as a 42-minute studem fi lm that Lync h p ro
poseel [Q th e American Film I nstitute in Los A ngeles while he was en rolled there. It g rew into a loo -mi nute feature d uring the five yca rs tha t it took Lynch to complete it. But not only the length oC lhe IiIm 's pro duction stands out: Ly nch mad e rn uch of the fi lm cla ndestinely in aban doned buildin gs on AFI property, w here he constructcd his ow n min iat ure studio. F unding w as neve r constant, anu shooting stopped ma n y times during the fi ve yea rs w hen the m oney dr ied u p_ It is che onl y Lynch film m ade in this ind epe nd ent way. Subsequen tl y, he wou ld ha ve m oney-sometirnes too m uch, somctimes less ch an he wou ld like, but always enough to continue shooti ng. In order to rea Lize the idea of Eraserhead, however. the absence of moncy was not a barri er to success; it was integral. Lynch's fi lm s ex plore the psyche to such an extenl th at rhey never seem to touch th e grou nd, to en gage [he economic a nd political realiti es that shape our everyJay li ves. [f there has bee n on e su';rained theme of criticism of L ynch's work, it ha s fo ll owcd thesl' lines: he crcales fi lrn ic worlds rhat sh ow liltle sign of the m:ttn i:d ,,"II rlo! ,,1 ,I:t~~ inc.:q ual iry, rnarg inali zed people, o r economit st 11 1~IJ.\k , 1\ \ tl ,i\ ~ltI\l. I.ynch i~ very n
much a Hollywood filll1maker, unconce rned w irh the socioeconomic realities of late capitalist life amI co mmitted to Jeliver ing fantasics to his audiences, even if rh ese fanta sies do themselves d ev iate from the Holl ywood norm. On él Jjrerallevel , rhere is some tru th to this criticismo Lynch's filmic explorations of th e psyche lend ro remain on that level and leave the link between the psychic and the social implicit. But in his first fea tu re, Fraserhead, he demonstrates explicid y the link between the intrapsychic struggles ofHenry Spen ce r (Jack N ance) and his situation as a capitalist subject. As in L ynch's later film s, the struc ture of E raserhead separates into two di sparate world s of des ire :lOd fantasy-t he social realiry and the escape from th at reali ty. Throughout m ost of the film, we see Henry exi sting in a desolate postindustrial land sca pe whe re he continuall y ex pe riences noth ing but di ssa tisfaction. These experiences contrast with h is brief moments of ecstasy, whi ch occur wh en he fantasi zes about a small wo m an (Laurel Near) who sing s and dances on a stage hidden in his radi ator. The brig h tness of th e scenes w ith the Radiator Lad y paral lels the enjoy me nt that th ey depict and con trasts with the dark ncss of the rest of rhe fi lm. In Eraserhead, L ynch employs rhis separa ti on in or der to reveal the rcl ationship between the psychic di ssatisfac ti on of the su bjece and the f u ncrioning of capitali st society, As the film makes clear, rhis fun ctioning de pends on a continual act of sacrifice on the part of the subjecr-the sacrifice of che subject's kernel of cnjoyment for the sa ke of producti viry. T he sam e sacrifice th at lead s to lhe chronic dissar isfac non of the subject fu els the socia l m echanis ms of production. W hen the su b ject refuse_~ (h is sacrifi ce, the mec hanis ms oC production brea k d own. At the end of the film , H enry arrives at the poinr w here he can em brace ratha than sacrifice his en joym ent. This becomes possible be cause he becomes aware of the p roduction process throug h fantasy. Ra ther tha n being solely a veil that hi des th e process of production and the su bj ect's role in rh is p rocess, fan tasy in Eraserhead works to ex pose how the subjcct's castration- th e loss thar one experiences w hen enteri ng into society- se rves che production process. By showing fan tasy func tio n in g in this way, the fiJm challenges trad iti onal ideas about Cantasy's r c la f io n~h ip to producoo n. Fo r earl y psychoanalytic film the a ry, the f~U1 1 a,m;l! ir dim ension (lf cine ma rcprese nrs its g reatest ideo logicaJ dan).;"1 lit ( ,,1\\ r. ltH.I~y a lways hides p rndllct ion. In fact, accorcl ing to tl ll\ \' 1I, 1V. 1~ 1I1t '-lc,y c' llIt'rgcs Jl rectly (H it (Jr the ,ttlcm pt to obscure
nA"rRl/f AO
the rol e that production and labor pla y in the construction of the social
tempt to explain un origin runs i!1 LO lhe p roblem that Kant di agnoses in
order. Christi a n Metz loca tes this problem in the einema's privileging of story (what happens on the screen) at the expem e of d iscourse (the aet of relating the eve nts on the screen). He notes, "the basic characteristic of
the dynamical antinomies of The Critique of Pure Reason, whcre he probes the questio n of w he m er the worl d itsdf h ad a begi nning o r no to W hat Kan t finds is tha[ no explanaüon of origin ca n eve r be definiti ve
[cinema tic] discourse, and the ve ry principie of its effectiveness as dis course, is prec isely that it oblitera tes all traces of the enunciation, and masquerad cs as sto ry."1 \Vhilc \vatchingth e typica l Hollywood film, we
beca use we can always seek the origin of this supposed origino The search for an origin leads to 3n infinite regress.3 Just as reason cannot loca te the origin of the world, idcology cannot locate rhe origin of the
invest ourselves in a series of images that take pai ns to ohscure the pro ductive apparatus ane! the labor that produ ces them . Building on th e
social order. But fantasy, beca use it uses na rrati ve ra the r than straight forw ard explan ati o n, can fiU in this gap a nd offe r us a w a)' o f unde r standing origino
analysis of Me tz and others, Daniel Dayan adds, "the film -disco urse presents itsclf as a product without a produce r, a discourse without an origino It speaks. \Vho speaks? Things speak for th e mselves and, of course, they tell th e truth. Classical cinema establishes itself as the ven
vid ual subject, the fantas)' of the primal scene (which is one of the funda mental fo rms tha t fa ntas)' tak es) tra nsfo rms the utterl y conüngent ract of the subject's birth-w hy this individual and not a norh er-into a narra
triloquist of ideology."2 The filmic fantasy, at least in its traditional man ifestatio n in H ollywood cinema, supplem ents a speeifically capita li st
tive that re nders thi s birth m ea ningful. In this fanta sy, pa re ntal coi tus becomes not just a n a rbitrary act but one full of a d efinite intention. Tt has
ideology. Thi s ideology d epends on hiding the la bor that produces eve ry com modi ty in order to facilitate the "free" exchange of commod ities. In Eraserhead, L ynch challenges this traditional conception of fan
as its specifi c des ig n creati ng m e indi vidual sub jcct who fanrasi ze s ch is eventoA simi la r p rocess occurs in fantasies constructed for an en lire so cial order, w hich ta ke the form of m yth. Virg il's creation of rh e m yth in
ta sy (and thus offilm) as an id eological supplem em. Fantasy (as pla yed out in He nry's dream) becomes the m eans through w hich the subject's sac rifice of en joyment for the sa ke of social productivi ty hecomes visi
w h ic h Aeneas foun ds thc Cil)' o f Rome strips the fo und ing (lf contin
ble. Tho ug h fantasy does obscure the mec ha nis l1l s of prod uction, at the sa m e time it makes visible the genesis of produc tivity itse lf - the mo ment of the subject's insertion illto th e social order. E very fantas y is in sorn e sense a fantasy of origins: fa masy em erges in order to pro vid e scenari o rh at explica tes th e origin of the subj ect and the o rigin of the social order, w hich is w hat ideology itsdf remai ns constitutively unable to ex plain. Tb e origin is me site of a gap with in ideol og ical explanations: ideol ogy can only explain the emergence of the prese nt socia l order retroac ti vdy, in terms of its result, wb ich m ea ns that ideology lacks the prope r terminolog)' that a genuine exp lan atíon would requíre. Because ideol ogy works to justify tbe ex is ting socíal order, it reuuces w hat is p rio r to this ord e r to the le ve! of the order itself. rn short, ideology 's ve ry ability explain eve rything lea ves it paradoxica ll y unahk l O l:xpl ai n o rigino The question of origin bccomes a hLlll k \1'111 Wllh ill idclllogy, a mo ment of conringcncy with in tlw idcolllgil". d \\'lId d , d Il!' re~ ~ i ry. Any a t to
28
'IH~
IM POSS ID LE DAV I D l YNCH
Fantasy does this on a social as weU as a subjective leve!. For th e indi
genc)' and a ll ows Romans to see themselves as lhe products of a specific destioy. In bom these cases, the o rigin ceases to be a disturbing point ancl becomes the fo unda tion ma t solid ifies a sense of iden tity. Fa n tasy's o rientaLÍon toward me origin a110w5 it to playa part in ob scuri ng a gap with in ideology. Bu t fantasy can also make this gap vis i bl e; it can show us w hat we othe rw ise would be un able to see. We re qu ire fa ntasy in o rd e r ro sce our initia l sacrifice of en joy m ent beca use this act of sac rifice has no cm pi rical existence. Tb a t is to sa y, as mem ber5 of society, we have always al ready sac rificed our enjoyment-our m embership in society is d efined by this sac rifice-maki ng it impossi ble to isol ate the mom ent of rhe sacrifice itself. Not o nl y d(les rhe sacri fice have no empirical existence, but me subject in no way has any e n joyment prior to its sac rifi ce. T hc social order demands tbat the subject give up w ha t it d oesn't have, and it is th is sacrifice of nothing-the pure
~1\',rllI/f'A[)
'2Q
rema in und etceted without the fantasmatie distortion. If we un de r stand fantasy in this way, we can revaluate attempts by avant-garde filmmakers to ex pose the p roductive proccss be hind their filrn s: w hiIe sueh efforts mal' in faet expose fl lmi c fantasy as a construct, they also hav c the effect of detracting from fa ntasy's power to ex pose the origins of the social ord er and the subject. In attempting to d econstruct the ideologi eal power üf filmic fantasy, one simultaneously und ermi nes its revolutiona ry power as wcll. Henry Spencer's comp lete immersi on in fantasy demonstrates the pO'vver of fantasy to expose the initial sacrifice of enjoym ent that m akes possible th e proccss of prouuction, even as it obscu res that process irse!f. That is to say, fantasy initially ubscures rhe proeess of prod uction by se dueing liS wit h a series of images, hut its attempt to na rrate an orig in has the subseguent effeet of exposing this proecss. Th e fi lm enaets the dynamic played out in Henry with th e spectatür on the leve! of formo Just as Henry becomes aware of his own sacrifice of enjoyment and its connection to the process of production through hi s fantas y, (he spccta tor becom es aware of the same thing throug h th e filmic fantasy that is Eraserhead itse lf.
Produdion and Sacrifice
The film begins w ith the d i rect link betwee n Henry's expe rienee of rhe loss of enjoyment and the onset of industrial produeti on. T he open ing is compl ete! y surreal: we see the u ppe r part of H enry's body floatin g in space while Iying on its sid e. Lyn eh superim poses [he image of Henry on that of a pla net. W hen Henry di!;appears from the fram e, lhe cam era moves closer to the planet. After a cu t to w hat seems to be the plan et's sur faee, rhe camera en ters a cab in where aman si ts by a w indow with three levers in front of him . T he film cuts back to the image of He nry whose express ion chaI1ges from Oll e of d ull anx iety to terror. Af ter a guick shot that returns to the man in the cabin as he sud d en ly jerks, we see Henry's mouth open and a sperm like substanee seems to emerge from it (though the creature is superim posed on the imáge of Henry) . Lynch euts back to the man in me cabin. w ho pu ll s one of me levers, wh ic h scems to have th e effcet-w hi r h we \C!" in lhe su bsequent shot-of sending I he spe rm likc su bsl:l w t" , 11 <11 I1 111 ); ,_,"1 IIf the frame. T he man in m e cabin pulls :1 ~"(Cl I1 " .1 11.1 11111.1 kVC 1. :llId \Ve <¡ce the JO
lHF I MPOSS I 9L E D AV I D l YNr: "
substance splashing mto a pool of water. Thc C
fRASER HfAO
JI
On th e one hand, the parent enjoys this li fe substance throug h the child and id entifies with th e aliveness that the child has (and that the parent her/him sdf lacks). On the other hand, the pa rent env ies the chiI J '- alive ness Of enjoymcnt, vicw ing it as an enj oyment properl y belonging to the parent herlhimself. 80th the dotíng parenr and the abusive p
The Malaise of the Desiring Subject Lynch sugges ts causali ry by locatin~ thl' lI nl, '¡ c1ill g 111 tlll' world of de sire just after th e openíng de pinioll 0 1 l kili ~ \ .1< Id I t t ql enJoyment in the film. It seems as rhis d iss.l li , I.I, .IIPI1 1I :~ ,,1I!. Ir, 11 11 1knry's sacrifice
ir
32
H IE IMP OSSI Bl.E DA V ID lYN¡; 11
of 'bis enjoyment to the machjnc of capitalíst production. This part of the film begins with a close-up of He nry looking backward over his shouklcr at what he is in the proccss of walki ng a way from. Though we see this shot of H e nry looking and a pu zzled or anxious look on his f:lce, we do not see a reve rse shot of w hat He nry sees (whieh we might typíca Jl y expect in thi s situatíon) . In chis world, the obj ect is missing. Lynch exp resses this absence dlfOUgh the film's form-or through the absence of the expected form, ,he reverse shot. T h e fi lm follows the m issing re verse shot with a mise-en-scene that further stresses absence rather m an presene e. Thi s is espec ially the case in the wa y that Lynch ligh ts the film-or rathe r in the way that he doesn 't light the film. Lynch's desire for a dark mise-en-sd:ne even in formed the way in w hich the negatives were processeJ. While having the film devdoped, Lynch insis ted on the darkest feasiblc loo k to the prints. The extreme Jarkness produces a sense of ahsence within al mos t eve ry shot of the film. T he Jistri butio n of the light emphasi zes the experience of absence. L ynch almost ne vcr lig hts a scene even ly; instead, he stresses the con trast between Iig ht and da rk ness . As Michel C hion notes, "Lynch da rcd to use li g ht w hich illuminates onl y in pools, so that parts of th e ser re ma ined in shad ows or in complete dar kness."7 Mue h of th e sense of em ptin ess rhat Ercuerhead creates stem s from this use of light. We can neve r look at él scent:' an d experi ence rhe overpresence lhar we are used to seeing in a film. The gaps in the ligh ting create a world tllat entices desire by high lighti ng w hat ca nnot be secn or know n.8 Even [he world movcs slowly, struc tured around a circuitous path to me object of des ire. T he slow nes5 becomes evident w hen He nry enters rhe e\evatú r in his apartment buildi ng for the fir st time. We see a long shot ofHenry as he enters t.oe dev ator a nd turns to press the button for h is Aoor, whil e Lynch susta ins the shot unril the deva tor doors close. 1n itsel f, this is not necessa rily unusua l. But wha t is distinctive is how much time passes between He nry's pushing the bu tton and the elevator doors closing. The typical fi lm com presses (h e ti me tbar eleva tor doors take to close; Lynch elo ngates it: tue doo rs take a full seventee n seconds to close, d uring w hich time the camera d oes not move. He nry himself doesn't movc ei ther, wh ich m eans tb at we as spectators mus t en dure scventeen seconcls ofhlll1 ill "' h icn noth ing at all harr ens. Thi ~ nnl h ing-this tem poral al)\( 1I1l' \\ Iti 11 11 1he lIarrati\lc SI ru" \1 n.: tiC t h~ fi Im- hcl ps to sign ify r.A~r. H 'AIl
3.1
that this is a world ofdesire. Desire revolves aroun d absence and depends on the continual failure ofits oh ject to become presento Jack Nance plays Henry as a character \;vho nev er moves quickly nor responds quickly to other characters. W hen "ve first see H enry, he is slowly wal king home with a sac k of groceries. And Lynch makes his pace seem e ven slower by shooting long takes ofthis wal k. When Henry interacts wi tb his neighbor (Judith Anna Roberts) just after arriv ing home, his slown ess becomes even more apparent. The neighbor tclls him that his girlfriend Mary (Charlotte Stewa rt) h as calIed and invited him to dinner, and Henry waits for a prolonged period of time befare simpl y thanking her for the message. This de la y creates a scnse of awk wardness, as if something is missing in their conversation, and it under lines the absence of any fan tasmatic structure in this part of the fi lm. Fantasy serves to filI in aw kward lacunas just like this one, ro sp<.:ed up om interactions (and the pace of our lives) so that we don't see the ab sences. Eut absences characterize our bare socia l realit)' without a fan tasmatic su pplement. Henry consta n tly seems ro be miss ing somcthing. He dcs ires some tbing that rcmains absent or at least concealed , but he does not ev en know enough about th is object to k now what he desires. Lync h himself describes Henry in te rms ofthe attitude of desiring subj ectivity: "Henry is ve ry sure that something is ha ppcning, but he doesn 't understa nd it at al 1. He w atches things very, very carefully, because he's tryiog to fig ure the l11 out. . .. E ve rything is new. It m ig ht not be frightening to h im , but it could be a key to something. Everything shou ld be looked at. There could be cl ues in it."9 In this first pa rt of the film, He.nry's desire does not have the coordin ates that migh t d irect it toward an object. lt is in this sensc that Henry is the pure subject of desire: his desire is unal loyed by fantas y to such an extent that it has no d irecti on at a.11 . H enry privileges no particulas object but view$ the w ho le world as a mystery that might disclose the object; for him, as Lynch himself notes, every thing "could be a key."
one who fits comfortably wllbin tlle world tbat he occupies. T h rough out the film, he wea rs an unfashi onabIc, nondescript suit, pants thal are too short, and a pocket protector fillc:d with m ulti plc pens ancl pencils. As Henry, Nance aJ ways mnves mecbanicall y in the film. W hi le he walks, he seems to pl
Both Hcnry's mode of dress and Jack N ance's way of pbying the role make clear his alienation fram the world in w hich he exists. As
E ojoy rn ent has been reIegated to the margins, outside human subjectivity-even the film 's aud io track hosts a consta nt din of factory noises d u ring all of the exterior anG ma ny of the interior shots. The
Paul W oods notes, "His relationship with the wo rld i ~ th;lt or a passive, bemused on looker-h e cannot be said ro lH1V(' .Iny tri le plan: in ir. His desires are ma ny, but fr ustratcd. " 'o I-kn ry i, .'1 IPlI lll "'wnlinl ~k:s iring subiect because he is a complete olltsidcl. l it d,,,··, lIu' dll"., li ke ~Clme -
sounds indi cate acti vity and vitaLty, buri t is the vitality of machines. As G reg H ainge notes, "T he noise pe rrm:atillg EraJerhead is an industrial drone which ~ llggests that the vicwer is inhahiting ,\ m ach inic world." " Visu
3~
Tli< I MPOSS IB LE DA V ID I YN C I1
~"~H tl rA (J
locateo elsewhere-in the ycars past, beforc the ste el ba rreis, pi pes, a nd
th e gra ndmothe r's ha nds. She stanos hehind the g ramlm oth e r, g rab s
chai n fe nces by w hich H enry walks became lhe traces of van ished in
he r hands hold ing the tongs, and to~ses th e sa lad by manipula tiog her han e! s. This brief seq ueoce hig hligh ts the in activity ofthe granomother. She exists he re as a lifeless pu ppet, a status confirmed by w ha t happen s
dustrial ac tivity. T he process of industrial ca pital ist productioll fun ctions through the sac rifice of laborers who work ra the r than en joy t h e mselves. W ithout this pe rpetu al sac rifice, product ion wou ld come to a stand still. In thi s se nse, ca pitalist industry feed s off the e nj oyment o f t hose who work fo r it. Bu r rhe sacrificed enj oym ent does not just disappear. The machin es of industry themselves manifes t the enjoymen l that h um a n workers 12 have give n u p: they run with a vitality that the human w ork e r lac k s. The capitalist production process also displays thi s e nj oy m ent throug h its by-product-su rplus value. According to Mar x, t he cap it~¡\i s t pays the wor ker faidy for the va lue of h e rlhi s labor, but wha r the capitalist appropriates without compensarion is the surplus value tha t the ver y productivity oflabor generates. Surplus val ue beco m es th e so urce of th e capital ist's profit, and it conspi cuously alludes to w hat the worke r has sacrificed.! 3 But the film neve r a ll ows us tu see direcrIy the industrial production rhat feeds off the sacrifice of enjoyment m ade by subjects such as H e nry. In th is world of desi re, the re are t races of enj oyment, bu t e nj oyment itself is always elsew here. The opposition between the a bsencc of cn joyment 3mo n g humao subjects aoe! the location of en joym e nt in produc tio n ano the natural world becomes clea r whcn Hen ry g oes to di noer at Ma ry's house. T he intera ction between He nry, M rs. X, a nd Mary just after Hen ry 's arrival d isplays the co nt rast. In the X livi ng roo m, we see Henry a nd Mary sit ting on a co uch w h il e Mrs . X sits on a nearby chai r. Long stretches of si lence and misun derstand ing punctua te thei r conve rsa tion . Mrs. X asks H enry wha t he does, and , after a long pa use, H e nry respo nds, 'T m on vac.1 tion." This respon se, w hich cl early misundersla nds h er question, forces M rs. X to ask, "W hat did you do? " The sti ltec.1 nature ofthc con versation betwce n H enry and Mrs. X re veals th e rol e that lack plays in this world. Neithe r of these char acters d isplays any ali ve ness in the sceoe, w hich is w hat makes m e conversa tion secm so difficult. The gra ndmothe r (Jea n Lange) ex hibits more cClOspicuously the life lessness at th e X home. Th roug hou t H cnry's c nlin' Vi~l l , she SilS in the same cha ir in th e kitchc n without sta ndin g up 111 ' ¡'yi l1 g a word . H c r onl y movcment occurs w hcn M rs. X uses her 1" ¡1I' l ' If(~ di!: ~;¡\ ad. Mr,. X lays the salao howl in rh e gr:\I1umCltlll' r\ 1. 1\ \ :1111\ pl. if l·S , .t. lIll( ll lg~ in
36
TH E I It\PO SSIBLE D AV ID LYNC H
subseq ue ntl y. After using the g ra nd m other to toss the salad, Mrs. X puts a ciga rette io th e grandmoth er's mo uth and lig hts it. Puffi ng on th e ciga rette is the on ly activity we see the g rand m other do, thoug h we never see her Iíft hc r hand ro remove the ciga rette from h e r m outh. ynch draws a ttentio n to her ulter immobiLity in order ro emp hasize the absence of a nim ation not on l)' in the X fa m ily but also in Henry's entire worlcl. Ali ve ness appears w herc we woulJ n 't expcct to see it. T hro ughout the con ve rsa tio n betwee n Hcnry, M rs. X, and Mary. we hea r in th e back g rou nd t he obtruJí og no ise of seve ral p uppies suckl ing their mother. Of course, puppies suckling their mother is not an uncommon occurrence, bl.lt w hat is uncomm on is its visibility a nd a udibi li ty. After we see Henry, Mary, and Mrs. X seated in the li ving room, Ly nch cuts to a shot of the Aoo r tha t graphicall y shows th e puppies a nd lheir mother. The sound o f rhe suck li ng stands ou t to s ueh an exrent thallhe enrire subsequent con versation seem s tooccu r in the backgrou nd o[ the suckl ing puppies. This juxtaposition stresses the eX lreme opposition betwce n the excess o f eo joyment in the animal world and the lack of it in th e hum a n wo rld. A simi la r opposition becomes a ppa re nt during the oinn er itself. Por d inne r, Mr. X (Allen Joseph) prepa res w ha t h e calls "m a n-mao e rh ickcn." Bu t whcn He nry tries ro cut the "chicken ," it begins to move spontaneousl y, ano a liqu id oozes ou t of ir. After we ~ee a shot of the ch icken 's movemen t, Ihe subseque nt shot de picts M rs . X beginning to co nvulsc al> her eyes rol! to the baek o f her h ead. Lynch ell ts ro a close-up of the m oving ehicken and then back to a m edi um shot of Mrs. X moan ing with her head tilted ba ck. The sequeoce of shots here in dica tes a ca usal rel atiollshi p: M rs. X 's cunvu lsions emerge in response to the man madc chick en 's di splay of ali ve ness-an aliveness tha t she hersel fl acks . Eraserhead de picts a world of abscnce in orde r ro sh ow wha t results from che inilial sac rifi cc of enj oym en t. In ln is worid, th e absen ce of the objcct-cause of des ire colon; eve ry scem:. Ht n ry exi sts he re as a d issatis ficd, desir ing subjecr. 13m becawic Iht: di :;s ¡¡r i s l ~lcr i on ex i~ts in the ve ry struclu n: tlr Ihe lil m ie wo rld itsd r- -ill 1li t· 1I11'il' - t' n 'iCc:nc, in th e ed it ing, in
I ilc 1 í1tl1(lO\lfin ll
(lf ti1/.·
~Ilt lt..
I1
111'\ 11 11 In
t' \
Hlt'l1l Ihal H cnry
IIA 5 HlltA l'
\1
cannot simply rouse himself: the dissati sfa ction has a constitutive status for Hcnry and, the film implies, for the subject as such. The dcsiring subject nece$sarily exists in a world of absence whe re the only satisfac tion is elsewhere.
The Cause of Fantasy
Despite what we might think, dissatisfaction and frustration alone do not lead directly to the d eveloprnent of a fantasmatic alternative ro the world of desire. TypicJ lly, we tend to see fantasizing soiel y as a response lO dissatisfaction within social reality. F reud gives a general description of this process in the Clark Lectures. He says, "The energetic and suc ccssful man is one who succeeds by his cfforts in turning his wi shful phantasies into reality. Wh ere this fails, as a result of the resistances of the external world and of the subj ect's own weakness, he begins lO turn away from reality and withdraws into his more satisfying world of phantasy, the content of "vhich is transformcd in to symplOms should he fall ill."14 Here, Frcud claims that fantasy providcs an internal com pen sation for what the subject fails to attain in rh e external world. In Emscrhead, Lynch tloes nol so much refute this idea as add a deg ree of nuance. For Lynch, fa ntasy re mains a response to dissatisfaction wiLb one's social reality, but it d oesn 't emerge when rhe subj ect's desired ob jcct is com pletely abscnt. I t emerges at the momen t when the sub ject encounters a rem inder in the O ther of the subject's ow n lack. Throughout the beg inning of the fil m , Henr)' endures the dissatis faction of his existence without recourse to fantasy. W hen Henry enters his apartment for the first tim e in the film (after srcpping in a puddle while walking home) , we see him lie on his bed and sta re at the radia lOr, but at this poillt he doesn't see the fantasm a tic scene that willlater appear. He think s he has lost Mary, and he sits alone in his apartment with nothing to do. ln the mid st of the complete absence of the object of desire , he does not turo to fantas)', though he dnes stare at the spot where his fantas)' wiII lilter tak e shape. Lynch suggests here that the subj ec t can endure the absen ce of enjoyment as long as no apparcnt barrier to this en joyment is visible. Ironi ca lI y, it is the barr ier lo the suhject's enjoyment rlLat causes rhe subject to cxpe ricnce it.sel r as lack ing, and the suhject tu rns to fantasy only al tlll' 1l lIJ1l 1l' Ol w heo she/he must confront this barricr.l 'i
38
fHf IMP O SS I9 LE P" VID lI NCtl
After the din ner scene at the X home, the fi lm cuts ro Mary taking care of the baby (a startling. re ptilian-like mutant) in H enry's apart ment. It is onl)' after we see Mary
_AH .'f'AO
\'1
woman beeomes visible. T h is seene is unlike :1Oy that have come be fare
head , k nocking it to the grou nd. T hc hcael ofth e bahy then rises out of
it: not only is the lighting much brighter than in the rest of the film, hut
H enr y's body ancl aSSlUnes the place ofhis head. The sourcc ofHenry's
the en tire eheery atmosphere of the seene stands in stark contrast to the samber tone of all the scenes up til! novv.
castratían is n ot, as we might expccl from the standa rd psyehoanalytic
In rhe fant: 1sy of tbe Radiator Lady, Henry expe riences what he
aCCOUnl, a d eman d by lhe social la w thar He nry give up his privíleged lo ve objee t. rns teéld,it is H en ry's own baby w hose head emerges out of
misses in the world of desire. Here, the object of desire becomes a pres
H en ry's to rso an d the rcby pops Henry's own head off. This striking im
ent ohject tllat one can see, if not actual1y touch. As Michel Chian notes,
age suggests Chat the misshapen ba by is itself the SOurce of Henry's cas
"The Lady in the Radia tar is related to perfect love and the dream of
tra tion. T he link bctwee n the ba by ane! ch e subject's lack de rives from
inccstuous fusiono When Henry comes on to the stage ofhis fantasy and
thc rep rod uetive p rocess. In the act of reproducti on, the subject attests to
touches her with his fingertips. a blinding fl as h and a burst of sound are used to convey the unbearable intensity of this mament ,"17 This kinu of
it" 5taLUs as lacking-a.s a sexed bcing. 1f the subject w ere com plete in it self, it woul d nave no n eed or even ab ili ty to reproduce itself. When sexed
intensity is entirel y lacking in the world of desire that the rcst of the
film depicts. It serves as a harhinger of the film 's conclusion, in which
rep rod uetio n occurs, the child emerges as a replacement for the parents and em bodi es rhe life substance lhat they ha ve sacrificed. 18 Thus, as
He nry's turn to fantasy becomes complete. But Henry's fantas)' at this
Hegel puts it, when parents g ive bi rt h ro a chi ld , "they generate their
point is nat confineu to the encounter with the Radiator Lady; it also
Ow n dealh." '9 I n Heruy's fan rasy sequ ence, he is able to witness this pro
revea ls the truth of his situation w ith lo the system of production.
cess ar wor k in a way that remain s vci leo in the ordinary experience of rcality. T haL is to say, subjects typicall y don't see directly the role that
Du ring rhe famasy seguence, H c nry imagines himsclf on the stage w irh the Rad iaro r Lad y, w ho holds her hanus ,in front ofher faee inv it comes complerely w hite vvith light-a lig ht so bright that it forces the
hei r ehil drc o p la y in ()b jecti fying o r sig nifying thei r eastration . But bec;wse fantasy hrings lhe subjeet ha ck ro lhe n onexis tent m oment oforigi nary loss, ir allo ws thc suhjee t to see the impossible.
speetators to look a way, especially after one h as become accusromed to looking at such a sparsely ligh ted film. Thi s wh iteness suggests the ulti
By a l/owing rhe subjcct this view oCthe impossible, rhe faDtasy lies. Ir narrates o r temporal izes ao ex per icnce of 1055 th at has no tempo ral
m ate enj oym ent embodied in the famasy objeet, b Ul just afte r the expe rience o f ir, the Rad iato r Lady di sappea rs.
existence. Loss constitutes tbe subiect as a subieet; to nar ra re tbis IOS5 is
ing h im toward her. But w hen Henry touches her hands, the screen be
Capitalist Produdio n a nd Human Re produdion
ro imagine a su bjeet prior [o 10sS---<Jr a su bject existing p rior to bccom ing a subjecL I n doing so, fantasy crea tes a sense of paranoia in the sub ieer: rarhe r rhan seein g its loss as cons túuti ve, the subject ide ntifies an age nt responsible for lhe loss-in Henry's case, the baby. C lea rly, Henry
In this fa ntasy sccne, Henry comes close to the en joyment of his fanta sy obj ect but fina lly cannot reach it. I-lis fai lure exposes hi s castration, which is the lack of fu ll e njüyme nt that every subjeet has ;¡s a result of being subj ected to the restr ictions of the social order. 1n psychoanaIytic term s, castratian is oot a lite ral event but a mctaphorical process that produces the desiring subjcct. It is the mythical sacrillce of life sub stance thar occurs at lh e bcginning o f Erascl'hcad. Just as we see castra tion unfo ld al th e beginni ng o f the film , Henry st:cs it occur du ring the hn rasy seque ncc thar bcgins w ith th e Ra dial" r 1.'lI ly. A fter the disappca rance of rh e Radi al'" 1•• 1' Iy, I 11, IIl II.I~y t"ol1linues as sorne k i nel of protuherance e m e rges I'r" l\ l I I( 111
•",
THl' ' MPO SS I!1l (
DA" IIJ I YN C II
>", 11e 111 y .11101 dl'placl:s h is
lived in a desolate wo rlc.l barren oE en joy men t be fore the arrival of the baby, b u t lhc fant3SY locales the theft of Henry's enjoyment in this fig ure. [n (lne sense, the Ca ntas y c.Ieceives H e nry concerning the real source ofhis di ssalisfaction, but in ano ther scnse il provides him with a unigue glance at wha t his everyd ay life obscures. Fantasy's lie acts as a vchicle th ro ug h w hi ch it can reveal a fllnd il me l1tal truth about suhjectivity. T he ins ig ht of Henr y's fa n rasy ~eq uence stems from the relationship that it e n visions between th e 10$5 tha! oceurs in sexed reprod u etioo (in sexuatj¡m as 'iUch) a nd thc IOS5 lha l occms (i.r I'he labo rer llnder capital ism. This is iI vo.:cd qucsrion for psycl lllan.dysi s. ;l nd it oftcn t()rici\1
d lll d l " 111
C;)lISl'S
his
di .. rni~l' thl' p"'YC hll:II1;¡ lylil' ;I, '<'I1\1n l .. 1' (';ISITatillfl .
I
~A·.!Hlll' ",U
41
This account, so the critiq ue goes, conceives a structural process at work when the process is actuall y historically rooted .20 That is to say, for its detractors the psyc hoanalytic narrative of castration fails to accommo date historical variegations- spec ificaUy, the form of loss that capital ism prod uces Ü'l the subj ect. But Lynch makes clea r the connection hetwcen the loss that accom panies sexed reproduction and the loss necessitated by capitalist pro duction when the film depicts the role that Henry's head plays in the productive process. After the dream sequence d epicts Henry's head falling to the g round , we see a puddle of blooo form around it, and cve ntually the head surreally d rops through this puddle onto the ground outside Henry's apartment building. Through this scemingly impossi ble sequence of even ts, the dream logic connects Henry's private psy chic drama to the functionin g of society as a whole. Lynch 's film em phasizes here the interconnection of these two realm s despite their seeming incongruity. After Henry's head bUs ro th e g round ou ts ide, a young boy runs and picks it up. He brings Henry 's head to a pencil factory where he tri es ro seH it. The factory buys the head from the boy after a tec hnician tests its usefulness by dri lli ng into it and cxtracting ma terial to insert into a ma chine that produces penci l erasers. After the machine prod uces an eraser with rhe material from Henry 's head, the technician tests the eraser ro confirm that it works properl y. We see Henry's ca stratíon di rectly providing th e material for th e producti on of a com modiry. 2\ But not just any commodity. Hen ry fantasi zes his head becom ing material for an cras cr becausc it allows him to im agine h imself pla ying a pan in the elimination of the materiali ty of the signifi er. Not on ly is Henry subjected to the signifier li ke a1l of us, but he also works as a printer: his labor involves the production of signifi ers. T he eraser un does this lahor and rcnd ers ít useless. Thc fanta sy thus provides a n ave nue through which H enry can nega te the source of his dissatisfaction. But the by -product of this p rocess is an insight into the violence of the prod uctive apparatus. Clearly, no one m.1kes erasers from human heads. But wha t Lynch's film suggests here is the ability of capitali~1 produ ction lO capiLa lize 00 the loss th at occurs in castration. 1·.Vl· 1 v ~"n : d urdl'r dLmands castra tion-th:Jt is, it d em an ds a sacri licl' "r I 1\ (11\ 111 1 111 by Ih ~ lI h j ects. \~ hat makes caIJitalislrJ disti ncl, an'II IIlill}! 1' , d. ,_ d" !li l W'lll~'nce of
~2
[Itr IM P OSS IBlE OAV lfl I Y~I~I '
Eraserhead, is what it dnes w ith th e sac ri fi ce. It uses the sJcrificed cn joy m ent ro feed its cve r-ex IJ
The Iess )lou ea t, dri nk and buy books; rhe Icss you go tu the thea ter the da nce hall , the public house; the less you think, love, theo rize, sing, pa int, fence, erc, the m ore yousa ve-the greater bcco mes your treasure whi ch neither m orhs nor dust wi ll devour-your capital . The less you are , the less you exp ress your own life, the grearer is your alienated !ife, the more you have, tbe grearer is your store of cs tranged being." Capitnlism requires an ev er-increasing g uanti ty of sacrifice-the ced ing of enj oyment for wh ar Ma rx calls "est ranged being"-since the acts of sacrificc feed rhe g rowt h thar capitalism must have . To our contem porary ea rs, Marx's idea th ar cap ital ism d ema nds th ar we catod rin k, and bu y less seems ahs u rd . Consum er capira lism not only tolerates excessive eating, drin k i ng , and buying, but it aCLU3Jly demands rhese activities, just as it cliscourages saving. BUl ro dismiss Ma rx's c1a im as anachronistic in our cu rrenl version ofcap itali sm would miss th e im portance o f the contrast he clraws. A capitali st economy d ema nds that we place an emphas is on havi ng rather than be ing, and it p rompts us to tbink of all ou r expe riences in ter ms of what we can llave. Even in con sumer capital ism , rhe log ic ofh av ing predomi nates. O ne wan ts literally to ha ve agood time, notro allow oneself to enj oy.23 T he mO re we wa nt to have, the m ore we support th e m achinery ofcapitalist production. But rhe su bject unde r ca pitalism is not simpl y a hopeless victim ofthis producti on p rocess. As Lynch indicares throug h this drea m sequence, a way out exi sts throug h fanrasy. F antasy has a rad ical potential beca use it can rendcr visible the subject's castra tion and the role that this castration plays in the fun ctio nillg of capital ist society. It stages H enry's castration fo r h im t hrough th e way tha t it presents the impossible ohject. As long as Henry exists as a su bject in the w orld of cl esi re, he experie nces a vague ..enseo flack, hu t he never gra$ps exacLl}' wha t ba rs his access to tbe priv i leged ohj ('( 1. 111 dli., wor ld. rhe objc.ct is si m pl), ;¡ hst: nt. But in lhe fantas m" ti~- tlt litlll , d u. ,¡I!lt·('f hcc()me~ prescn l ;In.! sccrni llg ly al·cl's~ihlc. T hc
NA .\ / RIII AD
A~
illusion of the ohject's accessibility allows Henry to see his castration as
From H enry's perspective, we see lhe roan g ropin g the ileighbor as she
the barrier preventing him from attaining it and to ~ee tbe role that his
is opening [he door ro hc.:r apartmt:nt. Then \Ve sec the neighbor look
castration plays in mechanical proJuction. Thc vision provided hy fan tasmatic expcricnce cnahles him to struggle against the perennial dissat
ing Jirectly at He nry with a puzzled expressio n. A reverse shot sho\Vs the head of the baby on H enr y's shoul dcrs in me place of his own head.
isfaction that had h ithe rto Jefined his ex·istence.
This sequcnce reveals the presence of enjoyment surrounding Hcnry, but it also depicts his own scnse of ca strarion (and the visihility of that castration). H enry quickly shuts the door aftcr this encounter a nd sta res
The Proximity of the Enjoying O ther
through the key hole as the door to th e neighbor's aparun ent shuts be
Aftcr Henry awakens from m e dream, the film indicates that he expe ri
hind the couple. After this encounte r w ith the enjoying other and with he foregrounding of his own cast ration , Henry lashes out violently
ences a chan ged reality. The first shot aftcr the el ream sequence shows him waking up in his bed in his apartment. What is instantly striking in this shot is the lack ofthe noise that we usually hear in the apartment the baby crying. This absence provides the first due that sometning has
•
aga ins r the baby. Cutting awa y the baby's bandages-an act signifying H e nry's re fusal to accept the restrictions that the social order places on one's
changed, which H enry's sl.lbsequent glance out th e window confirms.
enjoym ent-has t\Vo re!ated effEcts, anJ hoth inJicate ao attempt to
This look out the window is shocking in the first instance simply beca use
unleash enjoym ent. The most obvi ous effect is the death of the baby it
Henry can see outdoors. Though prior to the dream a brick wall was
self. H enry's fantasy has shown him the part mat the baby pla ys in his
flush against the window, e limi nating any possiblc view, now the wall no
castra tion, a nd he re H enry responds by deslroy ing the baby, tbereby
Jonger cxists. Looking through the wi ndow, H e nry sees someone vio lently assaulting another person oL ik e the very existence of the wi ndow,
ond efreet is metaph or ical: Hen ry a ll ows the insi des of th e baby ro burs t
this incidcnt tells us a great dcal aboul the transformation that H enry has
fo n h. T he act of sta bbing these insi d es with his scisso rs, though it kills
undergone in his drcam. Wh e rea s bdore the dream He n ry Jives in a worlJ of abscnce and 1i t
the baby, rcleases a huge q uantity of foarny substa ncc from w ithin th e ba by. T he fi lm dc picts lhis substa nce oozing o ut and coro plete ly cove r
tle enjoyment, the postdream wo rl d forces H enry to expe rience the en
ing its bod y. Here, \.Ve see unleas hi ng of bodil y enj oyment a fter che so cial restri ctions have be.en cut away. T h is u nleas hin g of enjoyment de
joymcnt that occurs around him. Rccau se the drca m faotasy aJl ows
re jecting that castration and ¡ts a ttendan t
IOS5
u f en joyme nt. T he scc
H enry to witness his o wn castra tion, he now fecl s his ow n failure to
stroys the baby, di srupts the rnec hanisms of prod uction, and even
enjoy- and the ubiquitous enj oy rnent of th e O ther- a ll the more ta n
crea tes a hole in the world. But it frees He nry from his castration and
gibly. The unav oidable dissatisfaction of the bricked -over w indo w gives way lO a n image of viole nt enjoyment and mus prese nts a turn
makes it possible for him to expe rie nce rh e di rect contact with his fan
from absence to presence. H cnry can now see w hat lay hidden in the
tas y obj ec! tha t was prev io usly impossible. By detaili ng Henry's violcnr des truction of the helpless baby, Lynch
empty spaces and ahsences o f the w orld of Jesire, a nd this changes me
begins to e1aborate the price lhat o ne pays for the realization of one's
way that he exists as a Jesiring subject. The visibili ty of cnj uyment becomes m ast apparent in H enry's rela
fa ntasy. The grotesque form of the baby doe~n't necessarily Icssen the horror of m e acto But nonetheless, the film depicts it as a triumph for
tionship ,vith his ne ighhor. When she appears in the first part of the
He nry. The condusion that this act brings about proví des its implicit
film, the neigh bor exud es a sense of m ystery. bUl Ht:nry neve r learns anything about her. 1n the d ream sequence. l-k llry r;lnw si zc.: ~ ab ou t the
justification.
neighhor having sex w it h hi m in h is hedo A h " 1 Ih~'
c njo)' ourscl ves. I t is ra the r that che re:lli za riol1 uf flntas y, w hile fu lly possibk. is : ¡j way~ viole nt. In rhe
status of the neigh bor ch a Jl gcs dramali, .dl, WI" 'I\ the hall, H enry opcns his d l)() r an" " '1;;-' tl l!' 111. 1L', l d ulI
44
T HE IMP O$SIUlt DI'IVI Il I Y N C ~I
Il i
\'
111.11 \.1 110ise in IIh ,llIlI lhl.: r mano
Ly nch's poi nt he re is not mat we m us r kili pu r children jf we are to
essari ly .1, 'lI(1y~ ~t1 I, H ha rr ic r ro cnjoyrnt' 111 I kl1 1:\I\ I.Isy posits. Fl'lLier / ... \ / ~! , r"o
·1',
head im plicates th e spectator directl y io H enry's act o f destructioo be
cause it in vests the spectator io the rea lization ofH enry's fantas y. A t this ca rl y point in hi s filmmaking car ec r, Lynch is at his most am bivalent ahout rem aioing true
to
onc's LlOtasy. Th ough he de picts
Afte r Henry dcst roys the baby, th e fi lm 's form changes in o rd er to convey lhe un leas h ing of en joyment. The Iights in H enry 's apart ment begin ro fl icke r. At an dectrical o utlet whe!"e a lamp is pluggeJ in , spa rks Ay ou t. A backgro und hu m grows louder and loude r. The n
H e nr y's reality as oppressi \"C a nd restri ct.iog, he emphasizes the de
Lynch inelu des a series of al te rnating shots of H enry's head and the ba
stru cti l"c ;'less of Henry 's embrace of the fantasm a ti c alterna tivc. In the
by's hea d in ra pid succession . T his scq uCllce co nelu ues with a c\ose-up
Iast instancc , l:'mserhead endorses H enry's act as a political gesture th at
uf the lig h t, w hich fi na ll y burns ou t into a total da rkncss th a t covcrs the
uol eashes the enj oy mcnt tha t he has sacrificed to capita list p roduction .
scrccn. Nex t, the film cuts ro a shot ofth e p la net (from the opcning se
T he fíl m co nceivcs of allegia nce to fantasy as a moJe of combating cap
que nce) brea k ing opeo . T hc dust fro m thi s expl osjo n sparkles behind
itali sm . But this end o rsement d oes not come w ithout a caveat.
Hen ry's head in a sho t tha t p laces Henry in fr o nt of a bl ack backg round . A fter this fa m ous imagc of He nr y, rh e cam e ra return s to the pl anet and mov es fo rward into thj: hole rhat has brokeo ope n. T he subseguent
Having It All
sh o t of the m an in rhe cahin indi ca tes th e effect that H enry's choice of E raserhead ends in th e way th at ev ery David Lynch film ends: the pro
refusa l of castration h as on th e m echa n ica l p roduction process. W e see
tagoni st realizes he rlhi s fantasy a nd achieves a m oment of complete
hi m st rivíng to hold the fina l leve r in place, but he cannot. The film
sati sfac tioo. This would seem to locate E raserhead , despite its hi za rre
fad es to white, and the Radiator Lady ap pea rs. She walks forwa rd and
stru cture, w irhi n the orbit of tradition a l Ho llywood film. In the typical
hugs Henry, as he a ttains the hithe r to inaccessibl e fantasy objec t.
Holl ywood fi lm , the suhj ect a lso real izes its fanta sy-as, fo r instance, at th e co nclusion of Pretty Womal1 (Garry Marshall, 1990) when the
With th is co ncludi ng em brace of the Radiato r Lad y, H e nry fin a lly escapes the JissaLisfaction lhat has haunred him througho ut the film .
w t:a lthy Ed wa rd (Richard Gere) arri ves in a lim ousine
He d iscovers the e n joymcot ma t der ives from emb racing one's private
tCJ
ask the pros
ti tute V ivian (Julia Robe rts) to m a rr y h im. lo term s of its narrati ve tn
fantasy. Through rhe act of opting for hi s famasy. Henry atta in s enj oy
jtc tory, the conclusion of E raserhead is evc ry bi t, if not m o re, fa ntas
me nt but shalters h is wod d ano destroys hi s h;1by. Of cour se, this wo rl d
ma tic: He nry m a nagcs to cm b race th e w holly faota sma tic- a nd
i~ bleak industri alized wastelaod , an d his baby is inh uma n. lo this
h ith erto ou t of reach-Rad iator Lad y, anJ we see their embrace bathed in ao ethereal w hi te Lig ht . The Jiffe re nce between these two cooclu
sen se, Henry 's aCl ar the end of me fi lm SCems perfecrl y justi6ed and
sions lies in their explora tio n of the full conseq u cnces th a t attcnd fan ta sm atic fu lfi ll ment. In the case of Pretty Womal1 (o r any ty pi ca l Holl ywood film ), the cul
even a ppropriate. However, even if the fi na l lurn to w C! rc! fan rasy is Jib erating , Ly nch neve r allows us ro forge t th at it necessita tes destr uctio n as wd!. One has a cho ice, the sarue choice tha t eve ry su bject has as it en tcrs the soc ial ord er: cither dissa tisfaction w ithin a consi stent soc ial re
minating fan tasy has th c powe r to sol ve an tagonisms-that is, sexual o r
ality or e n joyment witholltit. By retu rni ng to this choi ce a nd revc rsing
el ass antago nisms- that rhe na rra tive has p rcv iously explored . But the
hi s earl ier decision , Henry fr ees h imself fro m his own sacrifice, just as the film suggests tha t we ca n. 2~
film neve r ~ hows u s the cost of th is solution . The resolution has no eE fcct o n the struc ture of th e ~o c i a l order, o n the des ire of the cha racters in volved , or o n the stru cture o f rhe narra ti ve itself. Ir is precisely thi s la
T he em brace of fa llta sy d cstroys th e con sistency of Our social rcality beca use its consistency depcnd s on the sha red sacrifi ce of enjoyment. If
cuna tha t locares Pretty Wom an w ithin th e o rbit of the trad itio nal H ol
even one su b ject aban dons rhis sacrifice, such ao act c rca tes .a di stur
ly"vood 61m. [o thi s sen se, uJllike Pretty Wornan, Eraserhelld refuses to
bance in our social re~djty. T he political irnp licarions of e m bracing o ne 's fantasy stCI11 (mm it~ lin k l O the r e fusa 1 o( sac rifi cc. The subject who
employ fa ntasy a nd hold i l at a d ista nce sirnllltam: ' )lI ~ l y. h <.:vinces a fuI! commi tment to fa ntas)' in its de no uemc nt,
:1 11"
1!1i, 1"11 11 c"l)l\Jm itJu ent
exposes both fantas y's l iberati ng possihil ji il , ,1 1111 11\ ~ Iq! ! I r ll\IS.
4/,
IH( I MrOSS I 9 Ll
DAVI D InlC 11
rduses
In
,arri[,n '
pm,c.:~\
;11101
" ' II'~
\
.\1
rhc same time rc fll st:s rhe capi ta li sr prouuction
1"II' lIft. 1/1
,he world \I''' Iai nn l by ,!Ji, proccss. ,
~;,SI
RHC#.P
~
I
In Eraserhead, Lynch revea ls how the capitalist systern of production clpitali zcs on th e sacrifice of e nj oy ment that th e subject makes in the act of becoming a sexed being. This sacrificc produces dissatisfaction for the subject, bue it also produces the surplus enjoyment that rno ves the gears of capitalist producti o n. By accepting our dissa tisfaction, we sus tain this movcment. The film thus com pels us to s.ee our individual
TWO The Integration of the Impossible Obj ect
in The Etephant Man
complicity in the furtherancc of this prod uction process. Howeve r, the attempt to escape this state of dissatisfaction cannot
OCCUf
without vio
lence. As El'tlserhcad shows, we can get what we want-we can accom plish the impossible-and esca pe the chronic dissatisfaction of the capi talist world, but we can't do so without the destruction of the world itsclf. This is a barrier that few, <.:ven the most rad ical subjects, are able ro cross. Our inv es tment in the capitalist world derives from the stable grounding tha t it provides for our identity. In Semina l' XX, L aca n points out that a secure and constant "meaning is provided by the sense eac h of us has of being part of hi s world."25 O ur wo rle! is not just a place we inhabit; it is a fictional center to which we can always appea!. Spec ifi cally addressing the leftists in h is audie nce, L aca n te lls them, "you are more attached to it than you care ro know and would do \Vd l to sou nd
A Doubly Divided Film
the ue pths of your attachme nt. "21i Eraserhead offers subjects-Ieftists
Emserhead (1 977) est~lblish ed Lync h as a signifíca n t new voiee in in de pend ent cinema , but not man y people saw the fi lm . Ir screened prim ar
and all others-an opportunity to "sound the dcpths" of their attac h
ily a t m idn ight showi ngs in New Yo rk C ity, w hich a llo wed it to att ract
ment to th e dissatisfactions of the capita list worl d. By prese nting the
a cult follow ing. Rcspected di recto rs like John W ate rs and Stanley K u
destruction of this world ane! the m e.l n ing it provicl es as tb e price for
brick nociced and app recia red the film , bu t ir was Mel Broo ks anu bis
escaping its chains, Lynch cleman ds th at we con fr on t the ulti m ate bar rier to political acts---our in vestm e nt in the very str ucture tha r o ur acts
watching a p riva re screen ing of the fi lm , Brooks offered Lynch the
wou Id con test.
chance to d irect a project r.ba r he was p roducing for Paramount. This
love oC th e film t h al tra nsform ed Lynch's film m aki ng cart er. A fter
project beca me The Elephant Man (1980). the film that brought Lynch an ex ponential increasc in publ ic and critical recog n ition. Whe reas
Eragrhead toiled away as a m idn ig ht m o vie, Tlze E lcphant Man ea rned Academ y Award no minations for Best Picture, Best Director, Bes t Screenpla y, and Best A ctor (John Hurt). It changed Lynch's life.' T he turn from Fra.serhead to The Elephu17t Mar¡ is a tu rn from in depen dent and ex perimental filmm aking to Hollywood cinema. But Lynch's fu ndam en ta l conce rns as a fi lmmaker nonetheless remain con Tht· Rlcplw llf Ma11 de velops a nd radiGdi zes the distincti on tha t Ems(!/,/¡ md d r¡¡ W~ 1)('1 Wl'en the world of de,in.; ;lJlJ l he wn rl d o ( fan ta sy. st:lnL
HL'n:, tl l (~ \\lI d d 4~
IH~
IMPOSS I Rlr O... V IU tUI<
IIf
CIIII : I ~y loses th t; dn:a mlike llu nlily
Ih:1 1
ir h;lS in
11 4 1J
Eraserhead and becomes anoth er mode of rea lity itself. That is, The Ele phant Man de piets two ve rsions o f reality--one stru ctured through Je sire and the other through fantasy. In the same wa y as Eraserhead; the film uses this division in order to reveal what res ults when one fu\ly re a'¡¡zes one's fantasy. Through the tum away from desire, both the spec tatar and the ce ntral characters are able to realize th eir fanta sies, but this rea li za tion comes at a visible cost. Fantasy allows the subject to ac compJish the impossiblc but does so by destroying the subject itself. Whereas Eraserhead shows how the reali zation of the fantasy necessi tates an act of violent des truction, The Rlephant Man revea ls that the vi olence m ust also be d one to oneself. 1n this sense, L)'nch suggests that th e subject retains its subjective id enrity by sustaining distance from its fundamental fantasy. The Elephant Man erases thi s di stan ce w hen it turos from the Jepiction of a worl d of desire to immerse us fully in a wo rld of fantas)'. Mos t c ritics havc noticed th e radical division that exists in the rea li ty
film. Eut the oecision is essential ro the structu re of tbe film : Merrick's body initially fun ctions as a present a bsence in the film, produc.i ng a world of d esirc in which the obj ec t-cause of desire-Mcrrick's boJy itself- remains an absence that attracts and structures our desire. Laca n distinguishes between the actual object of desire and the ob jec t-ca use of d csire, which he calls rhe objet petit á. Unlike objects of de sire, which we access all the time, the objet petit a remai ns fundam en tally inaccess ible. It has no actual exi stencc but nonetheless se rves to trigge r the desire of the subj ect. It is the inAection th at tran sforms the everyday object into al1 object of desire, thereby e rotici zing the visual field. The su bject d oesn't sce the objet petit a, but its abscnce from the visual fidd is what mak es the subject desire to look. The re pulsiveness of Me rrick's actual hooy in no way disgualifies it from playing the role of the objet petit a hecause this object is constitutivel y absent anJ cannot become presento Fantas)' en visions access to this im possible obj ec t, allowing us to see
th at The Elephant Man prese nts. F o r instance, Ma rtha N ochimson notes that "the dop pelganger effect of mod el Victorian Jife and its shadow is, as in Blue Velvet, rend e reo with adear division betwee n the two, offe r ing an elementary Lynchia n d epiction of the caroi valesq ue relatiollship between social order and social disorder."2 Fo r Nochimson, the pri mary di visioll in the film exists between the kind ness shown for Joho Merrick (John H urt) during the d ay and the exploita tion of him at night. Merrick's d octo r Fred erick Trevcs (A nthony Hopk ins) is the re presentative figure of the fir st realm . and the nig ht po rter (M ichael Elphick) is the re presentat ive fig ure of the second . BU{ this d ivision he t\Vee n the daytime kindness of T reves and the nighttime ex ploitati oll of the night poner is not a divisio n berwee n a world of desire and its fan tasmatic underside. It represents rwo d iffere nt m odes of fantasmatic expe rien ce-one posi tive and one negative -and it serves to obscure the m ore radical split between the wo rld of desire and the world of fan
what otherwise remai ns invisi ble. Ir provides enjoyment fo r lhe subject precise!y beca use it changes the impossible obj ect in to a possible one. When Lynch exposcs Merr ic k 's body after th e fi rst thirty minutes of t he fil m, we e nte r a wo rld of fantasy in w hi ch a fan tasmat ic scena rio al lows LIS a m od e of access to the impossible obj ect. In rh is way, The E lephant M an opera tes a roun d th e same splil that an ima tes all of Lynch 's fil ms .
tasy that Lynch establish es in the film. Lynch creates the dis ti nction between experience structured through desire and experience struc tu red th roug h fantasy in the wa)' that he de pl oys the g rotesque body of John Merr ick . T hc mosr con t roversial d eci sion that Lynch m aJe as the young director
film cuts to a tracking shot of Treves as he walks through a bustling th rong of people. This shot stresses the fren eric activity of thi s crowd, and eventually the ca rnera even loses sigh r of Treves am idst this activ ity. After w e lose sight of T reves, Lynch cuts to a sig n that says "FREAKS" and to a d ose-u p oF a donr tbat sa ys "No E ntry" aboye it..> T hese two s h lll ~ l:~tablis h the idea of alll"llj o)'Illl" llt ("FREAKS") rha t is
~o
I Hf I", PQSS I BU
D" VI D lYN r : 1I
The Inoccessibility of the Horrible Object
A ftcr JO in itial m ontage sequence tha t attem pts ro con vey the trau m a tic elcphant a ttac k that allegedl y produced the di sfigurement of John Mer rick, The Elephant Man begins with an emphasis on the intense enjoy m e nt that accompa ni es the expe rience of seeing Me rrick. W e see Treves at a cami val frea k show on a quesl ro glimpse the E lephan t Man. This scene begins w ith a dose-up ofblasts of fire ar the carni val, anJ then the
1/1/
IH'P//"'N I M"N
:.1
off- limits (" N o E ntr)' ''). On hi s wa y to sees th e fr ea b, Treves passes through another ooor th at says "No Entry" and walks through labyrin thine narrow co rridors. W e even see a woman being leo in tears out of the exhibit, which suggests the trauma :lssociated with see ing Merrick . The sig ni fi ers that appear in thi s scene-"FREA KS'· ano "No Entry"-indicate in simi lar w ay s th e presence of en joym enr. Enjoy ment d eri ves from an encounter "vith a symbolic limit and thm requires the limit. 4 Th e freak show all ow s the subj ect a ttending it to transg ress the dictates of their own co nscience that tells them of its inhum anity and barbarity. On e enjoys a freak sh ow not in spite of one's moral re vul sion at the idea but because of ir. Th e spectacle allows th e sUbject to enjo)' violating its intern al superegoic comm and . The sig n that says "N o E ntry" performs a simila r function in rel ation to the external law. It provides [he subject w ith a sig nifie r ofla w that th e subj ect can enj oy transgressing. He re we see th e most fund amental function of the super ego and the la w: they act as vehicles fo r our enjoyment through the limits that they establis h..5 \Vhen Treves fin ally traverses all the barri ers to the Elephan t Man exhi hi t and is on the ve rge of seeing Mer rick for the first time, a police officia l cl oses the exh ibi r. T he offi cial tells Bytes (Freddie Jones), Me r ri ck 's "m anager," that the ve ry g rotesque ness of Me rrick preclud es his publi c oistJlay. The exchange between the officiaJ and Bytes helps to crea te a sense of the extre m e na tu re of Merrick 's defo rmity and thus al so the inc red iblc en joymen t that wou ld come from looking at him: OFP lCIAL: T he exh ibit deg rades everybody who sees it, as well as the poor crea tme himseLf. B YTE S; He is a fr ea k. How clsc wil l he ¡ive ? P OLl CE O FF ICIAL: F rea ks art: one th ing. We have no objection to frea ks. But this is e ntirely d ifferenr. T h is is m onstrous. Ir shaJl n ot be aUowed. P OLl CE
Th ro ug h th is d ialogue, th e fi lm esta bli shes the a bsolute prohibition 00 see ing Merr ic k a nd fur the r locates him as an ohj ect-cau se desire. A fter th e po(jce offi cial"s ha r ~1l1g11e against Bytes. Ihe poli ce lIslwr ,111 t he spec tators, incl udi ng T reves, (lul o f rh c blli ldi llg tl ' ;lI I l" " ~l" f\t~r ll ck. In a fin al shot, che film shows Rytes s:1 )' ing to th, 1111""111 ¡'tu t 11 k, "Time to m ovc agai n, rny t rc:m m:."
~~
r 111
I M~O~) r~1 1
OAV I" 1VNOI
Lync h begi ns the fi lm wirh ch is (ailed encounte r with the Elephant Man in order to 10c:1 te him beyo nd the field of representatio n. Th e in terdicti on of tlle object work s both w ith in the fi lm and in the film 's re laüon ro the specta tor. T he spectato r experie nces the impossibility and p rohibi tion of the objec t jllst as Treves and the oth cr cha r~lCters in the film do. By stressing th e impossibilil)' o f the object on both ¡evels, Lynch allvws Lhe specrator to expe rience m e desi re that structures the fi lmic world he presen[s. O n ch e leve! ofna rrati ve, che opening sequen ce is un necessary. Lyn ch might have begun the film wi th T reves's next attempt to see Merrick, wh ich is successful, but he chooses to begin with the initial failed en counter in o rder [o place the spectator in the position of the desiring subj cct. When one goes to see a fil m like TJze Elephal2t Man, on e is to a certún extent p repa red for t he g rotesq ue. H owe ver, by thwarting our encou nter with cll e g rotesq ue and by surrounding th e E le phan t Ma n with rhe au ra o fim possibi li ty, Lync h sugges ts that Me rrick's grotesque ness wi ll transcend whateve r expectati ons we lTligh t hav e.6 T he subsequent scenes in th e fi rst th i r ty mi nutes of the film all o\\! liS c10ser ~lCCt'SS to the fig ure of Mcrrick, but they lea ve him beyon d the field o[ rep resentarion. It is as ir m e prohi bi tion disappea rs-the poli ce no Iongcr deny T revt:S and the spectato r access to Merrick- but th e impossibiJ ity orthe object rema ins. On his next visir to see me Elephant Man, T reves succeeds in seei ng h im, bu t we as spectato rs do not, Ly nch sh oots this $cene in such a way th at it furt her est~ bl ishes Merrick 's sta tus as the oNet petit a or object-Cél l,l Se of desire inso fa r as it sustain s him as a constiturive absence in the visual ficld w hich eroticizes that fielo . We see Treveswalk through a dilapidated slu m in order to arri ve at sire where Bytes is now kecp ing Me rrick . Bytes initiall y refuses to allow Trcves to see Mc rrick. However, when T reves offers [ O pay for a look, Bytes opcns a door ro an image of tow l da rkness as a low ton e be gins ro sou nd in rhe bac kground . Bytes th en lea os Treves down a hall way to the room w here he has Mc rrick . In this room , Bytes gives hi s standa rd speech rccollnting the tragic history of the E le phant Man how h is cl isflgurement resu lts from 3n elephant attack on his mother cl uri ng hc r pregnancy-and rhen m e boy who works for him puJls bnck lhe cnn nin ro revea l che Eleph ant Ma ll . Sur im reaJ of sceing Mer riek h ill1 ~c' l r, \\'l' ~( ' l· :1 rcanion $hQt oCT ri. ve~, who looks sh ückcu , fol lowl'c1 I,)' n!t" .( II p~ nf Bytes :Inel rl1t" ho y, Firl1l lly, d ll' (i lll l shttws Mc r
me
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rick himsclfin the subsequent shot, though only the outline ofhis figure is vi~ib lc because of the extreme darkness of the shot. The scene contin ues with another reaetion shot ofTreves, and as the camera moves for ward to a c1ose-up ofhis face, he begins to cry. In the conclu di ng shot of this seene, Treves moves forward to exa mine Me rrick , but just when he begins to remove Me rrick's hat and mask, the film faJ es to black. At cvery point in this scene, Lynch buil ds the spectator's desire to see Me r rick and subsequcntly frustrates that desire, placing the figure of Mer rick at the center of the spect3tor's Jcsire. This world of desire continues eve n after Trevcs brings Me rrick to the hospital. In fact, Lynch goes to extreme cinematic Icngths to sustain Merrick as an im possible object during Treves's Iecture to his colleagues coneerning Merrick's case. During this lecture, Treves displays Merrick publicl y in order to illustrate the case while he kctures on it. Lynch be gins with a long shot of Treves Iccturing with Merriek positioned next to hi m behind a eurtain . During the leeture, we see a shot of assistants beginning to pull baek the eurt3in in ord er to expose Merriek's body. But just as they pul! the eurtain haek , Lyneh cuts 180 negrees to a shot looking at Merriek from bchind th.rough another eurtain. As a result, we see Me rriek in a silhouette shot rather tha n in the direet shot tbat we would ha ve had if Lyneh had kept the camera in fro m oCMcrrick. T he assistants use pointers to refer to the diffe rent defo rmities on Me rriek 's bod y wh ile Treves speaks about thcm, bllt even this is visible onl y in silhouette. Finall y, wnen Treves concl udes his lecture::, Lynch returns ro the frontal view of Merr iek just as the assistants c10se the curtai ns. The dramatic cJiting in th is scene serves ro aecentuate the impossibility of Merrick 's body, its inability to exist within th e fielJ of representation. The Elephant Mall begins with a se ries of faiJures, but these failures n:present the ve ry way in \>"hich desire itself sueceeds. The hrst half hour of The Elephant Mcm rev eals , as Lacan says in Seminar XI, that "what one looks at is what can not be seen."7 By denying the spectator acccss to the im possible object, Lynch here makes clear w hat all his films emphasize: the missing of [he object is at once the way in w h ieh desire sustains itself. Wh en one retreats from the absence of the object ane! fantasizes its presencé, one leaves the dom ain of desire. Neithe r Treves, Merrick, nOf th e fi lm itself can rem ain wirbin rhe world of de sire. Each follows a logi c ,hat Icnels inexor;dlly 1II ,1 1 . 111 1 "~II,. lI ic re~ol u tion in wh ich the impossihlc objcct clI\l:rw .. .1' •• 1 11I .. ~~"II II 'Y
:'4
TH[ IM POSSI OI ( PAVIO I YI~I 11
The Troumotic Turn to Fontosy
After the first thirty minutc$ of Tlle ELephant Mall openl y hides Mer rick's disfigured bocly from thc spectator's vision, the rest of the film displ ays this body just as openl y. If the first pa rt of the film emph:lsizcs Me rrick's status as the impossi ble objec t, the second part of the film manages to disco\'er a wa y of accessing mis object. The turo from the one to the othe r is the turo from a wo rl J of perpctu ally dissatisfied de sire to a worlel of fa ntasma tic enjoymen t. By chronicling thi s turn into a worl d of fanta sy, the film forees us to recognize the price that accom panies fantasm atic fulfiUment. Initially, the presence of the impossible object emerges as a Jistur ban ce in the function ing of the world of nesire. Its presence has the sta tus of a trauma beca use w hen one perceives it, one perceives something at precisely rhe poi nt where one expeets to pe rceive nothing-a pres 'nce at the site w here one has hitherto exper ienced an absence. Whi le vi ewing T/le Elepha11t Ma11, the spectator expe riences this mornent along with a young nurse in th e hosp ital w ho is bringing food to Mer rick. T he film stresses the na'lveté alle! fear of this woman as she ap proaches Merrick 's room. Lynch s ho()t~ thi s ap proach w ith a high-angle shot tha t m akcs her stature see m even smalle r than it actuall y is. As she wa lks. we begin to hear a deep pul si ng sound tha t portends danger. We see he r open lhe doo r to Merrick 's room, and th en me fi lm CULS to the fi rst d ireel image ofMerr ick 's b()dy: he is sitting up on his bed w ithout a shirt 011. The film quickl y Cllts back tú a shot of the nurse, w ho scream s as she drops the bow l of fooJ that she has been carrying. The camera quickJ y lracks forw~lrd to a c1 ose-up of th e ho rrined look on her face. The qu ick movem cn t of me camera registers the disturbance that the appca rance o fMerric k has caused in th e fi eld of representation. At the mome nt when Merrick 's body becomes a possible presence in the fi lm, rhe field of represen tation undergoes a radical change. W e lea ve a world of desire organi zed around the imposs ibi lity of d1e object-cause of de 5i re and en ter into a world of fantasy o rganized around accessing this object. Because Lynch establi shes Merrick's body as a fo rm o f [he objet petit a uu ring the fir~t hal fh o ur (lf the fIlm , il s ;¡ppear:lnce w ithin the: fra m e accom p lish(;~ t1w im poss iblc. The objet (J lünllioll~ IJn ly as an absence, I11tlti \,, 'lItlg d " \\1111(;1," 1\ d¡;sire th r" ll~h iI ~ ill,ICll·,sihi h IY. Onc ca nn nt I I¡~
f l fr llANI MAN
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ha ve a prcsent objet a, and yet this is what occurs whell Merrick's bocl)'
radical change in sta tus- from im p,lsc¡iblc ob ject m at resi sts rep rese n
initially becomes visible. T he moment of seeing the objet a directly would be akin to seeing on esel flooking; one would see hO\v one's own desire distorts the visual ficld from within the clistorted perspective (which is logically imposs ible). When Lynch reveals \\ le rrick's body, he
tation to objcct fuJl y re p resented- testi fies to po wer of fa ntasy to access the inaccessible. Just as rhe fil m turns to fantasy for rhe spectator, the terrain also shifts for the characrers wirhin the film.
forces the specta tor tu becom e aware of he r/himself as looking and as desiring. In our reaoion to this revelation, we ourselves become visible as spectators: the disturbance that M e rrick's body causes for our look renders that look-and the dcsire informing it-evident for the first time. At this point, \Ve can no longer be! iev e tha t we are neutral observ ers looking on a preexisting series of images; instead, we are desiring subjects looking on a visual fie!d created specifically for our desire. 8 Merrick's body does not disturb the visual field beca use it is gro tesque or horrifying. I t performs th is function insofar as Lynch places it in the structural posi tion of the objet petit a through his construction of the beginning of the fil m. The objet petit a 0 ,[ object-cause of desire has the status that it has by virtue of the place that it occupi es rather than any positive conten to Any ob}ect can pla y this role, especiall y in a film, provided that eme cons tructs the fi lm around its constitutive absence. Though the in itial appearan ce ofMerrick's body d isrupts the world of des ire crea ted in the opening of T he E lephant Ma n, the fi lm su bse quently integrates the presence of thi s di stur bil1g obj ect into íts ficl d of representation. 9 In th e rest of the film, Me rrick ceases to be an absence that haunts the frame ancl a ppea rs present wi th in the fr ame ü ke m e other characters. In fact, Merr ick'~ bocly appears so fr eque ntJ y in the film that it complctely loses its ability to distu rb the specta tor. W e do not, contrary ro what sorne inte rprete rs of the film contend, ex pe rience "the pleasure derivecl from seeing the pr ivate and forbidd en." ro T he film shows how even a figure as d istur bing as the E le pha nt Man can be smoothly integrated ioto sociery and into the fie!d of re presentation. This capacity for in tegration testi fies to the power of fan tasy and the role that it plays in the fu nc tioning of the social order. The faotasy thar rhe fi lm plays out after M erri ck's body a ppears ís one of the complete in tegratíon of lh e impossible object. 1t is as if our bEnd spot as specta tOr s, the poin t from w hic h we :Jr(: lunk ing, could be rendered visible
S6
1Hf 'MP OS~ I\l1 1- DAV I'I l 1YII' 11
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l'U. tI 111'111. T his
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Through the effons of Tre ves alJ d aclress M adge Ke ndal (A nne Bancroft), Mcrrick bccomes nor onl y a pa rt ()[ Victorian society but a highly regarded e!ement w,i thin trus sociery. He g aios th e accepta.nce by soci.ety that he ne ver hacl any h ope of discove ring w hile he lahored in the carnival sideshow. In this sense, the second part of the film provides a fantas)' scenari o for Me rrick and fo r the spectator who witnesses his ent rance into society. The film shows M crrick accomplishing rh e im poss ible wirh the aid of Treves and Ke ndal. After rescuing M erric k from Bytes a nd fin di ng him a room in the hospital, Treves takes the adclitional step of having Merrick into his home for tea. T h ere, Me rrick meets Anne (H annah G ordon), T rcves's wi fe, who rreats Merrick like an honored guest in her hom e, even th oug h rhe film makes clea r her díscomfort whc n she inirially sces Me r rick. Annc's trearm ent of Merrick moves him to tea rs. As h e takes he r hand , he begi ns to cry ane! says, 'Tm not used to beiog rr eareel so weU by a beautiful woma n." Me rrick 's tea rs he re in di ca re the ex tent to which he is living out a fa ntasy sce na rio. F rom the perspective in w híc h he 0 ists at the beginning of the film, utte rl y deg raded and deh um ani zed by Bytes a nd the ca rniva l goe rs, rhi s scen c with Anne is completely U I1 imaginable, w hich is w hy it l11 0ves him to the extent rhar it does. Bur [he fi lmic fa ntasy allows Merrick to accomplish the im possible, which is wha t m akes this such a moving scene. Though Treves begin s U1e integration of Me rrick into poEte society, it is Ma dge Kendal who corn pletes the p rocess. After learning ofMerrick's in telligence and h is acqua inra nce wi th culture, Treves publici zes Mer rick's case an d atrracts the atten tion of K c nda l, a fam ous actress on the L ond on stage. Ke ndal visits Nlerrick and reads a scene from Romeo and Julret w ith him. Aft e rwa rds, sh e tells him, "Mr. Merrick, you're not an el epha nt ma n at all-you're Romeo." Thi s kjnd of acceptaoce an d eveo adoration allows Merrick ro h ave a rasre ofthe normall ife that he has de sired bu t never bee n able ro a traio . 1r fa n tasmatically p rovides him with a se nse uf the ul timate en joyme nr thar he associa tes w ith norm ality. Though h e ncve r directIy st.1.les ir, Me rr ick 's J csírc fi)r n()r m ~di ty be co m es
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g rea t joy w henevc r he expe riences the everyday ac tivi ties ofa normallife (d rinking tea , reading, going ro the thea ter, ancl so on). But it is Merrick's fin al act-lying clown to sleep lik e everyone clse, eve n thoug h he knows it w ill kilI him- that fully reveals the ex tent of his d es ire for normality. He wants it so much th at he is willing to die for it. N ea r the end of the film , K end al in vites Merrick to be her guest at the th eate r, and after th e performance, she appea rs o n the stage and dedicates the performance to Me rrick. At tbis point, the entire audi enee stanu s and applauds Merrick. This standing ovation at the theater und erlines the acce ptance of Merrick and the h igh point of his fa ntasy scenJrio. Even if Me rri ck is " realIy " living out this cvent in the film, he expe rie nces it-and we as spectalO rs experience it-as a fanta sy simply beca use it sol ves co mpletely the problem of desire with which the film began . We experi ence the successful integration of the impossible ob ject inlO ou r evcryd ay wo rld, and Merrick himself ex peri ences what was for him the impossihle normallife. Mer rick 's ex istence now see ms meaningful: he no longe r endures the senseless abjection of the ca roi val; he has a purpose. But this pu rpose is w holly fantasmatic beca use it invol ves m e attainm ent of th e impossibl e. Obviously the turo to fa ntasy for the spectator and fo r characte rs with in the fi lm is not the same . F ilms can deploy fa ntasies for the spec talO r while depicting cha rac ters w ithin th eir social rea lity and can lea ve spec tators desiring w ithout a fan tasm a tic escape w hile showi ng charac ters ensconced in a fanta sy wo rld . But in Th e Elephant Man Lyn ch aligns the spectator's expe rie nce w ith that of m e ch a racters: w hen we tu ro fr om an expe ri ence of a wo rld of desire to a worIu of faotasy, Mer rick and Treves do as wd!. This paralIel structure that Lynch often em ploys has the effect of breaking cl own the opposition between what oc curs in the act of sc reening the film and what occurs within the film itself. T he spcctato r fincl s her/ h imself in precisely the sa m e position rel ati ve to fantasy as the cha ra cters themselves. Though The Elephant Man follows the logic of fantasy, it d oes not break fro m the con ve ntiol1s of realism in the way that EraJerhead does. It does not signal to us as spectators in a cl ear fas hion that we ha ve moved on to the te rrain of fantasy. T his marks a furthe r re.fincm ent of Lynch 's id ea of the role rhat fan tasy plays for tll(" slI h j,'\ 1. W itll Tht" Ele phant MUfl, he begins lO sce how f~l!1tllsy i ~ "lit \i ll1l,ly .111 ,·,raJll: fro m
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m e soc ial real ity, an alternative l() our everyday drudge ry, but the sup po rt of Our scnse of rcality. F an tasy becomes a mode of reaIity.
The Other Side of Fontosy
In one sense , The E/ephant Man is a ce lebration offa ntasy and wha t it is ablc ro p ro vide. W he n Mcr rick cries after A nne Treves shows him k ind ness, w hen Maclge Ke nda l compares Merrick to Romeo, and when the theater audicn ce gives Me rrick a stan ding ovation, we as spectato rs sha re in Me rrick's en jay ment. The fantasy sce na rio that informs these m om ents produces an enj oymen t that srem s from accom plishing the impossibl c. By in clud in g and emph asiz ing these mom ents, Lynch testi fi es to the po we r of faotasy and to its ability lO del ive r enjoyment. Rather than criticizing the tu ro to fanrasy as an escape from an unsatis fying rea li ty, T he Elephant Man embraces fantasy as a way of structur ing one's en joy men t.' , But lhe film uoes nor u neq u ivocall y celeb rate the turo ro fantasy. Lynch d o("~ not simply shnw the fanta sy of Me rrick finding acceptance in polite Victoria n society; he also shows the und erside of accc ptancc: Merrick 's immersi()n in to tll e ugly und crsid e o f Victor ian society, rep rese nted by the figure of me rtig h t po rte roNot on ly does Lynch se pa rate the fi lm into distinct worlds o f desire ano famasy, but he also splits the fantas m
, 111'
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MAN
'9
a similar role in the filmic fanta~y. Lynch shows Kendal in her dressing room reading a letter about Ivlcrrick in the LOl1dol1 Times, and he cuts directly from this scene to one of drunken rnelers in a bar listening to the night poner reading the same letter. This ~triking juxtaposition makes clear that despite the class differences between Kendal and the night porter and despite their vastly different way~ oftrca ting Merrick, both characters adopt a similar re!ation ro him. They both transform Mcrrick into an object of curiosity that people are desperate to glimpsc. The differencc is that Kendalleads high socicty to see ~1errick and that the night poner leads the lower class. The visits ofKendal and her kind produce the positivc mode of Merrick's fantasy experience, wh ile the visits of the night porter and his e ntourage produce the ncga tive mode of that cxperiencc. By cinematically linking Kendal's treatment of Merrick with the night porter's, Lynch indicts the spectator as well as Kendal. N o specta tor watches The Flephant Man and identifies herlhi~ re! ationship to Mcr rick with that ofthe night poner. Thc film allows us to identify with the gentler position of figures like Ke ndal and T reves. That is, Lynch does not trcat the spectator as one of the exp loiters of Merrick but as one of those w ho succor him . Howcve r, beca use he hints at the speculative iden tity ofKe ndal and the nigh l porter, Ly nch does not leave ti'; in thi s posi tion. As we recognize Kendal's complicity in Merrick's exploitation, we simultaneously must rccogni zc our own as spectators. O ur very decis ion to go to a film li ke The Elephant Man , Llke the bare fact of Ke ndal's intc r est in Me rrick, attests to our in ves tm ent in the idea of Merri ck as an odd ity, even if all we fee! is compassion or frie ndship for him . Not only does Lynch cinematically stress the paraLlcl betwee n Ken dal and the night poner, he also shows us how rhe relationship with Kendal and with fashionabLe society renders the nightly abuse more horrific for 1\1errick. After Mc rrick reccives a dressin g case as a gift, we see a crosscutting sequence that juxtaposes Merrick trying out his new ite ms ane! the night poner preparing another group to visit him. Lynch shows a close- up ofMe rri ck sampl ing cl ifferen t colognes foll owed by a shot of the bar where the nig ht porter rounds up clients for his sadistic tour. Lynch then cut.'; back to a long shot of Merrick brushi ng his hair with his new hrush, after w hich he sho\Vs Lill ;\ ppro;¡ch ing g roup. We return agai n to 1-.1crr ick , w ho now prel\ n, h 111 il d.t ll'<;~ Kl-!1cLaI, but w hen he tUfIlS in thc I\lid ~ t or c!Oillg \11, 1'" Idlll ,~ \II S tri jI shut of the
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night porte r, now present in Mcr ri ck's room. The subsec¡uent scene in volves the torture of Merrick: aman fo rce s a woma n to k,iss him in front of the group, the crowd pours alcohol down his throat, the porter forces him to look in the mirror, and after the to rture ends, Bytes, hid den among the crowd, stea ls Me rrick away fr om the hospital. This scene is perhaps the most trau matic in the film not just because it depicts the abuse done to Merrick but beca use it links this abuse, through crosscuttmg, to those who treat Merric k w ith kindness amI compassion. The cut from Merrick preparing to address Kendal to the image of the nigh t porter there m her stead revea ls the truth ofher position. H er com passion-and ours as spectators-becornes visible as part ofthe mistrea t ment ofMerrick, not an altcrnative to it. Lynch's crosscutüng es tablishes the speculative identity of compassion and cru el ry. Watching the film, we are constantly reminded of our link to this negative side offantasy. 12 Both compassion and crue! ry treat the objec t of their concero with condescension . T hese attitudes allow the subject to ensure its own ele vated sta tus as the one g iving com passion or administering cruelty. F urthcrm ore, compassion rec¡u ires a certain amount of cruel ry in o rder to existo W ithout the cruel ty comm itted by other~ there woul d be no need for my compassion . Even Merrick's disfigurem ent would req ui re no compass ion if \Ve did not I¡ ve in a cruel world that brutalizes those w ho ha ve a distorted appea rance. rn arder to sustain oneself as compas siona te, one must not act to change the cruel world th at crea tes oppor tunities where one can display compassion. '3 Wh ich is not to 5ay that co mpassion an d cruelr)' a re equivalent, that there is no difference be tween Kendal and the nig h t porter, but simp ly ro ins ist on the inextri cable link, the speculati ve iden tity, between them. Li ke Merrick 's fantasmatic integration into society, every fantasy scenario has both él pos itive and negati ve mode. In The Elephant Man more than in any or Lynch's oth er films, the link between the positive and tbe negative fantasy is appa ren t. Merrick's acceptance into polite Victorian society is de penden t on the nighttime visits of the nigbt por ter and his entourage. As the film suggests, one cannot simpl y o pt for a positive fantasy and avoid its dark unde rside . W ith out its underside, the pos itive fantasy woulJ cease to prov iJe rhe eoj oyment that it pro vid es because it would no longer pro vidt an y indicatí on of the trau matic natu re of the im possiblc ohjccr. Hflt h Merrick ane! lh e spectato r mll~l l;:n dllr l' 111 (' nq~arivc fantas y in I1rdn 111 ~1 "I;¡ il1 Ihl; PIJSi li\ e olle.
ill l , 1t(, Pli¡O¡NT MAN
'01
Fantásy afIers the subject cn joyment tb roug h a n a rra ti vc sccna rio that accesses that impossible obj ect. H oweve r, in addition to access ing this object, fantas y must sus tai n the idea of this obj ect as threatened in order to sus tain its desirability. This is w he re the n egativ e moJ e oCÜtn tasy comes into play. Whereas the positi ve moJ e of fan tasy allows the subject ro access the impossible object, the nega tive mod e of fa ntasy threatens that access an d works to convince the subj ect th at its rd a rio n
from Bytes through the aid of om e r si deshow performers who take pity on him-highlights even m o re the difficulty, ami henee the desirability, (lf normality for Merrick.
ship to the object rem ains in peril. In this way, lhe obj ect manages to hold onto its des irability e ven when it becomes acc essibl e for th e sub ject in the fantasy. The negative m ode of fa n ta sy-the horri fi c visits of the
T he depicti on of the t\Vo sides of fantasy in The Elephant Man does not transform the film into a cond emnation of fantasy. Inste:ld, this du ality mirrors the di videcl atti tud e that the film takes toward fant:lsy, On
night porter and his customers- allows the positi ve mod e offan tasy to continue to provide the su bject wi th enjoy ment. This allows us to answer the fundamental question raised by the night porter's visits to Me rrick's room. Ra ther th a n protest, Me rrick endures these visits as if they we re the price that he m ust pay for th e kindness he receives during the daytime. Gi ve n hi s det: p fri en dsh ip and the trust that exists between them , vvhy d oesn 't he protest to Treves?
th e one hand, Ltntasy p ro vides a n enjoyment that the subject otherwise lacks, but on the other hand, it does so onl)' by adding to the trauma that the subject has faced. As a result, one can render no eJsy verdict on the role that fantasy pbys for society ami for the subjeet. T/¡e Elep/¡ant M an seems to suggcst that fantasy is \Vorth the cost. But what the film absolu tel y insists on is mat when we opt fo r fa n tasy \Ve mu st pay this
Merrick accepts this trea tm em unq uesti oningly not bec.lUse he is a masochist or suffers from sorne k ind of fa lse consci ous ness but beca use di
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but as an imperiled object, which it is fo r Me rrick , the status of normality ehanges dramatieally. And in fa ct. the nigbt porter's visits do eventually k ad to Merrick's retUril to th e carnjval. The inclusion of Bytcs's capture of Merrick <.md Merriek's mel odIama tie return to Treves-he escapes
he understa nds um:ol1Sci,ousl y that the ell joymen t of his d ay time accep tance depends on this nighttime exploit:ltion. The exploitation se rves as a const:mt reminder to M errick oC the threa t to his enj oyment. A t the same tim e that this dueat impe rils Merrick 's enjoymen t, it ~usta iJlS hi s ability to en joyo F an tasy can a llow Me rrick ro cn joy the impüssible ob ject, but it mu st p reserve the ob ject as e ndangered if ir is ro remalo e.n joyable. If the [h reat to me objecr disa ppeared en tirely, it wou ld lose its abili ty te prov ide enjoym enr. T h is is the role thar rhe night porte r's vis its pla y in Merrick's fant asy ti fe and in me fiLn , ami thi s is w hy these visits are just as crucia l for Me rri ck as the day tim e vi sits of Madge Ke n dal and the other respected mem bers of soci ety. The negat ivc sid e of fant asy is necessa ry for us as spectato rs as weU. The threat that the nigh t porter represents constantl y remincls us of rhe tenuousness oHvIerriek 's en tra nee into no rmal society. The n ightly re turn to the experience of the carni val that the n ig ht porte r imposes on Mcrrick indicates the possi bility of an actual retu rn to th at ho rrifie ex is tence. This threa t sLls t:lins :1Do rmal life tór Mnri,-k .l ":1 privi k gt.:d object of desire rathe r th an a\lnwing l10rm al ity It) ¡,CC! 11111 11l1l l HJanc and ord i nm y. On its
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cost for the enj oym ent rh at it provides uS.
The Norma l and the Abnormal
L ynch shows the spectato r th e cost th at accom panics fantasy: fa ntasy obj ecr, but it d oes so by stripping the obj ect of the prov ides us w ith very impossibili ry that mak es ir an ob ject-cause d esire in th e first place,
me
L ike Eraserhead , The Elephant Man sho'vvs liS w hat results when one fully real izes one's fantasy. T he film realize.s a fa ntasy in three different ways: for the spectator, fo r T reves, and for Me rrick himself. The film g ives us preci sely what we desire as specta to rs, but it d oes so in order to show that we don 'l really desi re our desire. That is to sa y, the appear ance of tb e im possible obj ect w ithin the second part of the film cannot but d isappoint the spectator w ho eagerly longed for its presenee while wa tehing [h e first part. After Merrick's body beeomes plainly visible w ithin the film's mise-en-sce ne, ir loses all th e potential for enjoyment that it form e rly embodied , O ne watches Merrick in the second part of the film wi rhout :l ny se nse that o ne is expe riencing a moment that tran seends the timits of the orde r of tbe püssible. By re.1lizing our d esire ro see M críick's bocl y. Lynch forces LIS to con fro nr rhe 11: 111.11 il y (I r Ihe object, ro recogn i7.t rila r il is not the obj ect itself rh:lt prr ,d u\ 1' .. .] t·,ire lalt nur clcsirc th:1I C k- v ; lI l'~ :U l o nJ ina ry ob ject in to r'/1 II l pI ,,.,,,,r MAN
6J
an impossible one. As we watch the second part of the film, \Ve see lhe strangeness o f Me rrick's bod y beco me ordinary. This is what separa tes The Elephant Man (and Ly nch 's films in gen e ral) from the rest of Hol ly wood. An ordin a ry H ollywood fi lm wo uld a ttempt to preser ve Mer rick as an objet pctlt a e\ en as it allowed liS a qui ck fa ntasmatic glimpse of th is object. It would, in short, blend togeth er the expe rience of desire and fantasy in o nl e r to sustain the power of fa masy ove r us as subjeots. The typical Hollywood film is fan tasmati c to the extent that it holds back from a full imm e rsion in fantasy and thus p rese r ves the fantJ. sy's fundamenta l illusio n-that it can really provide access to the impossi ble object without destroying the object's impossible status. By refusing to turn wholl y into the real m of fantas y, film sustain s oUr belief that the ultimate enjoyme nt is possible. This is precisel y w ha t The Elephant Ma n rejects. Just as the film fo rces the spectator to realize he rfhis desire and face the cost of this rea li zati on, it does the same for bo th Treves and Merr ick within the film . Trevcs begins the film ck siring to m a ke a name for
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spond . Lynch uses the facle-out a nd the a bsence of a respo nse ro punctu ate the ques tio ns a nd m a ke c1 ea r rha t Treves has g rasped so m ething essential abo ut hi s own d esire. He couldn 't ha ve se ripted m e narrativ e any better: he gai ns noto ri ely for d iscovcring Mer rick , d octors th rough out Englanu now kn ow ofhim, a no M e rri ck fecl s in de htcd to Treves fo r savin g h is life a nd giving him a no rma l ex istence. Bu t preciscl y becau se of the degree of success he cnjoys, Trev es bcgill S to suffer. The fantas matic rea li za ti on of hi s uesire m ak es evident the simila rit y hetwee n Bytes and hi m sel f. Ra ther tha n acting for the goo d of M e rrick or for the good of sc ie nce itself, Treves has acted as he has in ord er ro become a noted scientist, to increase his cultural capi ta l, just as Bytes has actee! in order to enrich him self ma teri a Uy. The compl ete success of Treves's fa ntasy lca ves him, as ir lea ves th e spectator, with no alternative bu t to confron t his own desire. The seem ing purity ofTrev es's d esire initiall y all ows us to experie nce ourselves as pure specta to rs. But T reves's recog nitio n abo ut his own desire indicts u s as well: we recogn ize th a t there is no p ure vicw ing position fro m whi ch to wa tc h Thc E lephanr Man. W ha teve r is the dr iving fo rce bc hind O UT decisio n to see the film , it is no t just a sim ple desi re to see. T he d es ire to
rumself as a doc to r by di sco ve ring M er ri ck a nd presenting his case to t he medical world . N o t onl y does Treves rea li ze this d esire, but he also succeeds in introd ucing Merrick into el ite Victo ri a n society. He he
see, Ly nch suggests, is co nnected to an unconscio us desi re that we do
comes a famou s doctor a t the same tim e m a t he rescues Me rrick fr om the depredatio ns of Byres ano changes Me rri ck's life u n imaginably.
not avow. O ne is not simply curi o us to see Merrick 's story; o ne wants ro see his Ji sfi g ureme nt. The E lephant Man fo rces th is latte r aspect of d e
Treves reali zes h is desire by playing o ut the perfect fantasy scen ario. But this sce na rio d oes Do t p rovid e T reves w ith the sati sfactioD lil ar he expects. It leaves him ucspo ndent heca use ir expo ses an aspect of his character that could remain hidden as lo ng as he w as onl y an ambitious
sire to becom e visible. Th is is w hat sepa ra tes the film s of DllV id Lyn ch
you ng doctor and not the discove rer of the Elep ha nt M a n. H e becolO es aware that ambitio n a nd the desire for renow n, not the dri ve for sci en
revela tio n is necessari ly traumatic. Th e successful fantas y [ea ves us no possibiliry fo r cl a im ing that this is no t w ha t we wa nt. In additi oD to reve¡,11ing the h idd en k ernel of o ur desire, the full im
tific knowledge, was the m otiva ting force behind hi s acrions. As the tra jec to ry ofTreves sh ows, fantasy lays ba re the hidd en k ernel of the desiring subj ect to the subj ect itsel f, and thi s is o ne rea son wh y we resist fully imm e rsin g ou rsel vcs in fantasy (in the wa y th ar Thc Elephant Man demands tha t we d o). A fter Mad ge K end al visits Merrick in the hospital and hig h society beg ins to foll ow he r lead , T reves has a moment of self-recognitio n. H e says ro Aune, h is wife , "l'rn beg in ning to beli eve t hat Mr. Bytes a nd 1are ve ry m uc h alik e . . . _W h:11 was il . dll ; , r ~ Why d id Ido it ? A m 1 a good m an , o r a m 1 a had lil a n ~ •. ,\ lit I 1"1\.\1;\ u tl l: r:. I h is fi n alline, the scene end s w ith;:¡ fade lo hla l k ..II I1 I " · l. d,'! 1111,111. " A ll ne re
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I MPOSS I BlE D A V I D LYNC tl
me
from oth e r fi lms. By d ivid ing experience of d esire and fa ntasy, Ly nch 's fi lms show w ha t results whcn we im rne rse o ursc\ves completely in fan tasy. T hi s irnme rsioD reveals tbe rea l of Our d es ire, and such a
m ersion into fantasy also demon stra tes th e cost tha t our fanta sies exact from usoT hroug h the final gcsture of Merrick himself, we see Me rrick sacrifice hi s life in o rd er ro complete hi s fam as)'. Throughout the film, Merrick h as sustained th e fant asy of becom ing a normal subj ect, and w hen the film en d s, he ach ieves mis fan tasy as he fi nally lies down to sleep in the way th at eve ryo ne else Joes. Ea rli e r in th e film, Me rrick tells T re ves, " Tw ish ( could slec p li kc no rmal pco ple." By Iying d o,vn to sleep, howcvc.: r, Mer rick k nowingly cul s off' hi s ;Ihili ty to breaw e a nd suffoca lc ', llill1w lf.
" "
t L1 ¡' I/ ANT MAN
Lynch shoots this final seyuence of the film in a way that emphasizes its fantasmatic y uali ty. W e see Merrick sign m e m odel cburch thar he has complcrcd building, and then we see a long shot of Merrick remo v ing the pillows from hi s bed. L ynch l110ves the cam era slow ly towa rd Merrick as he begins to lie down. F inally, Merrick closes his eyes and lies Rat. The camera pans from Merrick's fae c ro the pic tures on his des k and to his moJel church . As the camera moves up th rough and into a brilliant starry sky, an imagc of Merrick's mother appea rs an d then faJes to whi tc as the film ends. In this scen e, Me rrick achieves the perfect fantasmatic bliss: he becomes a normal subject, and he recon ciles w ith an image of his beloved mother. But this success also dcstroys him. In a scenario in w h ich the subject can achieve the im possible-Merrick can become norm al- the subject must disappear. As Lacan insists, "the 1 as such is precisel y exclud ed in the fantas y." '41t is rhe position ofrhe subjeet that rend ers the object im possible, and th us fantasy im;lgines the object without the presence of the subject. The subject's very jC1cntity is tied ro its status as lacking; if one eliminatcs this Iack, one simultaneousl y elimina tes (he subject. This is w hy every fantasy, not just that of John Merrick, is a fantasy of the subj ect's disappearance. Most of the tim e, however, we indulge in fan tasy w ithout recognizing w hat it entails. The R/ephant Man dema nd s thar we becorne cogni zant of the ramificati ons of fa ntasy as ir condudes with the fantasy-d riven death of Mcrri ck. h asks us ro see famasy fo r what it is and ro opt for it, if we d o, wh ile embracing m e sacr ifice that it d emands.' ) The conclusion ofthe film completés a radical reve rsa l for m e spec tator. T he fi nal image of Merric k sleeping on his back forces the specta tor to experi cnce the speculati ve iden ti lYof norm ali ty and abno rm ality, of w hat is normal and what is most opposed to the no rmal. Despite h is position as an extreme outsider, Me rrick vvants nothing other tha n to exist as the norm al subject does. According ro the logi c that the fi lm de velops, the normal subject is the Elephant Man . W e don't just observe, as Jam es Keller contends, that "the misshapen indi vidual is show n ro be ... fully human ." d, l ns tead , Merrick's alienation and abj ection h ig h ligh t that of the norm al su bjcct. ur very abili ty ro in Vest oursc! ves in hi~ 1: 1111 a ,y (,r 11 t H m:d 11 y nnd lo find his fin al gestu re 3 C()1ll pell i ng aet test ji It · ~ 1' 1 " ' 11 t ' \~' II HI j l~ II ;1led rda tion ro nor m al ity. If we sim r ly in ha¡'il t'd 1I1~ItI I " dil ,\ . tl 1II111 11 :tllly pr..
66
THr
IM POSS' O L ~
O"Y IO LVN ( 11
vid ee! a seamless identity for us, we wo uld nOl have the psychic spaee to take an interest in Lynch's presentation of Merrick's story. Ly n ch con cl udes the film as he does in ord er to force the spectator into a position o[ speculative identity with Merrick. Recogn ition of thi s speculative identity de prives the spectator of any sense of distance from him and his abnormality. One can no longer view h im compassionately beca use compassion always implies the idea of safe distance from the object. O ne feels compassion for Merrick or for starvin g children on the other side ofthe world only as long as they don't come too close. L yn ch 's film has the virtue of bringing Merrick too close and clem anding that w e see ourselves in what first appears as his im possible difference. In so doing, we accomplish the imposs iblc ourselves.'7 If one watches The Elephant Man and experiences one's speculativc identity with Me rrick, one accomplishes an eth ical act. It see ms silly, of eourse, to talk abo ur tbe bare act of watching a film as an ethical act, si nce watching a film inv ol ves disco nnecting from m e omer and expe riencing a prívate in te raction witb the screen. Su t \vatch ing Lynch's film in the way that it dern ands to be see n has [he effcct of fac ilitating the transformat íon of one's mode of relating to the othe r. T he film en cou rages us to see sa mcness o r identity beneath the other's di ffe rence. ,8 S u t what the film p rofre rs is not a uni ve rsa l humanism in which al! subj ects share an essentiall y hum an core that th ey never lose and on the basis of w hi ch they can idcn tiEy with each oth er. Th is is w hat occurs in m ost monster movies, which ai m ro affirm the com m on hu manity h id den bencath me monstrosity. Acco rding to the logic of T he Elephant Man , w hat we have in common is our monstrosi l)', a kernel of desire m at p revents LIS fr om eve r adopti ng a positiol1 of neu trali ty and from ever being simpl y human . Mc rrick's bod y is the ob jective correlative of our m onstrosi ty, and insofar as we see o ursel ves in its deformity, we be come the erhical subjects that the film asks li S to become.
r!l r
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MAN
6'
This beco mcs the standard wa y o f excusing its f,Jilure. W hen he makcs
D une, according to th e standard n a rrative of Lynch 's ca reer, Hollywood swallows Lynch, and the result is a H olly wood failllre and not an au thcntic Lynch film. When Erica Sheen, who laments that "a lmost noth
THREE Dune and the Pa th to Sal vation
ing of intcrest has becn w rincn about it," attempts to fill in this lacuna, she does so with an ·essay that stresses, in contrast to the other essays collecteJ in The Cinema of David Lynch, th e economic ba ckground of thefilm rather than the filmic text itself.2 Sbcen's essay focuses on "the production histo ry (lf Dune as a paradigm ofLynch 's often difficult and always critical relations with the film industry."3 For Sheen, the ve ry structure of the film is the site o f a power struggle between the type of film that H ollywood at the time d e mands and the innovation charac teri stic of Lynch 's style of fil rn making. Lynch him sel f takcs every op portllnity to support this vcrsion of the film's co nstruction. He daims that, in Dunc, "f n ever carried anything far enough for it to really be my own. "4 Despi te th is conte ntion and despite irs narrative dissimilarity w ith Lynch's other films , Dune rt: mains a Lynch film. f t is not just that
A Hollywood Narrative
Lync h place s his styJjstic o r fo rm al stamp o n the film (though he does)
After the succt:ss ofThe Elephant Man(1 98o), Lynch had nu m e rous op porrunitics to ad va nce his status as an up-an d -com ing director in Hol lywood, including an offc r from George L ucas to direct the third in stallment of the Sta/' Wars trilog y. Believ ing m at thi s fi lm would aJl ow him little creative freedom , Lynch opted inste~J d fo r anoth cr scien ce fic tio n project, this one o ffered by prod uce r D ino de Laurentiis. T h is project wa s based on th e novel D une by F rank H crhcrt, a nd it pro \ iJ ed Lynch a budget of $42 mi ll ion, m e largcst budget for a ny fil m up to th a t time (and more money-not ad justed fo r in Aatiün- than Lync b ob tained for a n y subsequen t film) . Because o f the püpul~l r i ty of He rbe rt 's novel (and its seq ucls), a buil t-in a udience existed fOI" the fi lm. W ith the success of Star vVa/'s and th e return of the Star Trek franchi se in the carly 1980s, an appetite fo r science fiction w as p resent
;:J. S
we/ l. Lyn ch even
signed on not just for Dune (1984) bu t also for [Wo sequels. Despite these positive signs, the film became Lynch 's greatest fai lme, making back just $15 million at the domestic box ofnce and bom bi ng a mong critics ancl am o ng m ost Lynch fans. I
Dune is not only the m ost llni vt:r~;¡ lI y J, '\ d"" !t( rl, lvid I~y , , ¡:h'l> I1L111$ but also rhe on e most assoc i:llcd \Vil h I\'I'". d I I,I1h \VI JI" I lillll/1J : Jking.
but that the film echoes the fundam en tal thematic preoccu pation of ynch's o ther fil ms. L ike bo th Eraserhead ([977) and The Elepham Man bcfo re it, DUlle explores w har occur" w hen we full y im m erse ourselves in the w orld o f f;m ta sy. Thoug h a c1ear lin k exists berw een Dune and Lynch's other films, it is nonetheless rme thar DulU' deviates less from d assical H ollywood na rrati ve structure tha n th e othc r fiLms . Ir this is the remIl of the ex i genci cs of a m a jor studio prod uction, rhese ex igenc ies he/p to create one ofLync h's m ost theoreticall y co rn plex films . In o rder to de/ve fully into th e wo rld of fa ntasy and ro reveal fantasy's cost, L ynch constructs a film with a narratíve trajectory that seem s com pletel y in keeping with D a vid Bord well's descriptio n of the dassi cal Hollywood plot or syuzhet. Bordwell notes, "Usuall y the elassical syuzhet prese nts a douhle causal strueture: Qne involving hete rosexual romance (boy/girl, husband/ wife), the other line in volving ano th er sphere-work, wa r, a mission or a q ues t, other pe rso nal rel ationships. E ach lin e will possess a goal, obsta eles, and a elim a x."5 Dune, likew ise, brings together these two causal struc tures--rom a nce and adventun:- a nd both conduJ e in a d enoue rn en l th al I idil y Wr:lpS u p the loose ends in c:J('h . T h u5. d es pi te lhc co m p!
II O IJI ''' IIH
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69
~
Lynch's versi on of DUlle , it is actually more indebted to the classical Hollywood structure than the plots of any of Lynch's other films. But Dune does not simply fall quietly into Hollywood's conventions. Rather, it imme rses itself in the classical H ollywood structure to such an exten t that it pushes this structure to a breaking point and exposes, as few films do, the radical possibilities implicit in the fantasma tic resolution that classical Hollywood structure promises. In spite of their reliance on the enjoyment that derives from fantasy, most classical Hollywood narratives provide only the hint of a fa ntas matic resolution without fully investing themselves in the logic of fan tasy. They employ fantJsy, and yet at the same time keep fantasy at arm's length, allowing the spectator to remain at a safe distance. The logic of fantasy is one that accom plishes the impossible: it overcomes or at least finds a way around the antagonisms-e~pecially the sexual antagonism-that haunt every social order. 6 The social order as such continues to exist through antagonism: its fa ilure ro constitute itsclf fully is at once what enables it ro endure. Irs existence depends on its ahil ity to produce desiring subjects becau se only clesiring subjects lacking subjects- act as prod ucti ve citi ze ns. A fi lm thJ t fu ll y io vests it self in the logic of fantas y would necessari ly depict a radical trao sfor mati on of the soci al ord e r itsel f, since th e soci al order is construc ted around the impossibility of what tanta sy envisions. But this is not w hat cl assical H ülly "vood narrati ve does. [nstead, the narrativ e offers J pa r ti al fantasmatic resolution wh ile embedd in g that resolution w ithin the continuecl existence of a world of desire ancl antagonismo At the eno ofJohn Ford's Stagecoach (1 939), fo r im tan ce, \-ve see [b e Ringo K.id (John Wayrre) successfull y defend a trou bled stagecoach from Apach e attacks anu w in the affections (lf the rescued prostitu te D alias (Claire Trevor}- precisely the "double causal structure" that Bordwell identifies and th at Lyn ch employs in Dunc. This conclusion heals both the sexual and social antagonism s and thereby promises an existence free from antagon ism-or at lea st an existence in w hi ch we can imagine oursclv es fre e from antagonismo The film suggests that a compl ete healing is possibl e, that the threats to soc ial stability are em pirical rather than on tologica\.7 Stagccoach deceiv es us concerning w ha t 1hl' Ril1)!" K it! lI1 ust undergo
to Jccom p lish this im possihle heal ing. I k o, lllI ply ,¡d"!, I ' , ti\¡, pnsition uf the hero in order to savc thc pco pk 0 0 d lt ;,I.ll!.' :fll ,lil¡ ,111 ,1 ckfcat the
70
lH ~
, M'OSS l n Lt I'JA V I f) I. YNCI I
Apaches. His underlying id enti ry aoo that oCsuciety itsclf remain con stant. Thc fantasma tic resolu tion req uires no radical transformation or radical destruction. Ir is in this sense that class ical Hollywood narra tive uses fantasy ro accomm Qdate the spectaror ro exi stin g social relations. These narratives impl y tha t we can attaia a Fan tasmatic en joyment while remaining with ,in th e security of the current social oroer. We el n achieve the impossiblc \vitbou[ disruptin g the world that cannot accommodate such an act. Dune enacts t he same healing of antago nism that play s itself out in Stagccoach anu num erous oth er classical Holl ywood films. But it does not go about it in th e sam e way. If Stagecoach and the classical H olly wood narrative reduce an ontological antagonism ro a merely empirical one, DUllé' ele vates an empirical antagoni sm to the status ofan ontologi cal one and heals it noneth eless. T hat is ro sayo P Jul ¡\.treides (Kylc MacLachlan) is not simply a hero w ho overcom es an oppressive adver sary and ge ts the wom a n; in ord er to save the F rem en and have Ch ani (Sean Young) as his lov er, he becomes the Kw isa tz Hade rach, \-vhat an other cha racter in the fi lm cal}; ''[he uni ve rse's super-being."8 H e is able tú en d opp ression as such , hea l th e sex ual anmgonism , and even m irac ulousl y defy the laws oCnature. At the end of Dune, Lynch depicts Pa ul as a subject who has ove rcome the p roblem of subjcctivity i tsel f. T houg h Dune em pl oys classical HoLl ywood n:nr31ive structure, w hat st;:¡ nd s ou t abou t Lynch 's fi lm is its refusa! to perrnit the spectator an y es cape from its full im pli ca ti orrs. Fan tasy prom ises the sub ject th e ul tim ate enj oyrnent, w hich Dune d epicts, bue by showing thi s impos sible act, the film exposes the traumati c natu re of the ultimate enjoy ment. It is en joymeDt com pletel y opposed to pleasure: achi ev ing it sh atters tbe stabili ty and securit y chat consti tu tes our eve ryday life. In fantasy, one enjoys beyond the signifier and the o rder of meaning, which is why ful ly accessing this erlj oyment forces one to recogni ze its iden tity w ith the ultimate ho rro r. Usually, our h3lf-hearted ap proach ro fantasy obscures this identity, and we can find a certain pleasure in fan tasy by indulging in it bu t not taki ng it ser iously. D unc places us all the way into fan msy's logic and dem ands th at we suffer the enjoyment it produces just as Pa ul does. Total immersio n in fantasy all ows (he fi lm to wnrk ou t fantas,y's po litical conseq ue nces. W hat Dw¡c a dd~ l o I-y ll eh\ ¡;xplor<1 tion of me logic nI Cllll . I'V in Tlw E lephant A1uI1 IS 11m '!l(" ' dll ((¡ell s . T he pla yi ng
/'"11 1
1I
out ofthe perfect fa ntasy scenario not only transfürm s me subject (Paul)
fantasy). As w e have seen, Ly nch cmphasizes the di vision through
but a lso leads ro a polí tical uphea vét! , which üccurs because famasy ín
changes in mise-e n-sd:ne, cditing, camera m ovem ent, and sound . The
herently undermines all external positions of a uthority in orde r ro ac cess the impossiblc object.
distinction in Dune is not so exrre m e, in d ica ring the increased power and extent of the fantas y in DUlIe. Ly nch establishes tbe two worlds of
The revolutionary denouement in D une follows from the com pletely
dcsire and fantasy as actual different worlds-the planets of Caladan
fant;lsmatic naturc ()fthe film's narrati ,'e structure. The trajectory tha t
and Arrakis, respectively. A rrakis is th e center of th e fantas)' amI the
Paul follow s in the film is the perfcet fan t as)' sccnario: it fits into a n O ed i
site of the ultimate cnjoyment, but th e film shows m is c njoyment pro
pal flarrative structure without requiríng P a ul to be rcsponsible for the
liferating elsewhc re. Only C a ladan, the home planet of che Atrcides
death of his fath er or requiring him to marry his moth er. That is, the narra tive allows Paul to have the triumphs m a t Oedipu s d oes without
farn il y, offe rs a degree of res pite.
sharing the latter's guilt . Like O edipus, Paul becomes th e libcrator of a
other sets in Dune. 0 0 e very other plane t, we see extremes in décor,
subjccted peoplc with his mother at his side, and a fte r this liberati on he
costume, character, and atmospher e. Bu l C al ada n seems lik e a normal
avcnges the death ofh is famer. By becoming the liberator ofthe F re men,
planet where people act li ke we expect them
Both r.h e inte riors and exte rio rs on Caladan look diffe rent than the
to
act. There a re no char
he assumcs the d estin)" that his father has predictcd for him. Though,
acters here like the diseased Baron Ha rk o nnen (Kenneth McM illan)
unl ike Oedi pus, Paul d oe s not pla y any part in the de lth of his faLh er, this
flying arou nd the room or the com pletely blue-eyed Frernen clressed in
d eath is nonetheless necessary for his ascension as th e sa vior of Arrak is .
suits that recuperate a l! their bodily w aste, nor are there creatures like
I t thrusts P a ul anu his m other into the society of the Freme n, who a!en
the malformed G uild na vigators or the worms of A rrakis _ T he mise
Paul to his des tiny. In the process of assull1i ng his des Lin y, he finds a
en-sccne reveais Caladan as a sta ble place that is la rgel y bereft of oven
spouse among lh e subj ec ted people, and the romance and ad venture
fa ntasma tic in tr u sions.
plots un ire in the manner of m e c1assical Hollyw ood narra tive.
L ynch establ ishes Ca ladan as a wo rl d of des ire pri m a ril y th ro ugh
In te rm s of this n a rrati vc structu re, Dune is too m uch o f a cl:J ssica l
the place it occupies in the nar rative. Ir mark s the starting point of
H oll ywood fi lm, foll o wing the model too perfectly a nd the reby ex pos
Pau l's quest. E very scene 00 Ca lad an conveys an attituele of expecration
ing the hidd en radical ity of the m odel itsdf. This is wh at accounts for
for the future and helps to generate a d esire in the specta tor to see it. We
much of the nega tive critica l reacti cm to it. In the aet of gi ving us w hat
see Paul t raining w il.h the mentors that his father, D u ke Le to A ueides
too much, for cing us to see the
(Jü rge n P rochnow), has assigned to a id in his development. He spars in
consequenees of nu r fantasy, to sce w har hap pens w hen we WQ uld es
a kni fe figh t w ith G umey Halleck (Patrick Stewar t)i he de monstrates a
cape the constrain ts of antagonism o Lync h's film fo rces us ro co nfro nt
new wcapon (the weirding modu le) that wi l! help in the upcoming
the fantasy w ithout the distance tb at this type of fi lm making ryp ically offe rs.
war; and he submits
we wan r as specta to rs, Ly nch gi ves
liS
tO
a test of pain th reshold given by the Bene G esse
rit Reve rend Mother Ga ius Helen Mohiam (Sian P hillips). E ach sccne is important not in itself but for w hat it suggests abou r w here the film
No Sofe Place to Desire N ot only cl oes D utle represcnt a break fro l11 Eraserhead a ncl Elcphant Man through its narrati ve :;tructure, hut il also depa rts from Lynch 's
is headed. The depiction of Paul's nighttime confcre nce with his father punc tuates the attitude of the film's C aladan sequence. As Paul and Leto look
OUt
ove r the beautiful sea with wa vcs cr,lshing into rocks creating
earlier wo rk through the w ay that it deploys desin.: ;l nd hll t . l ~y. In bOlh Eraserhcad ami E lephat21 Man , rhere are two dl \' 111< I wc "leI, -
a mist around them, Le to defe ncls bi s d ecision to !cave fo r A rrakis, a
other cha rac terizcd by Ilcig htUlt:J Pl c-"""'-'':.lllId í'lIhl\'lrll~ lll (:1 wo rl J of
sOl11el hll\f~ ~Ic ( p ~ Imlcle liS
7'
TrI!
IM" O~r. l n l ( O AV II~ LYN Ctl
desert planet w he fe it never rai ns. Ly nch shoots the scene in a w ay that e mphasi z~" P.lIJI \ (uturc. In d osc-up. Lt, to s ay~ , "Wirhout change,
a nd scl dolll :Iw:lkl'm." Ly ll ch Cln s to a cl ose-
DIINf
1:'
¡:i
j
up o f Paul li ste ning ;.md back to Leto finishing his statcmcnt: "The sleeper m us t awaken. " The cut to Paul just after L eto says rhe wo rd "awa ken" and t,he final command to a\-vaken implicitly directed towa rd Paul indi cate the prospec t ofhi m awa kening iota a new wo rld , a w o rlJ in which hi s fantasies becom e rcali zcd. Before leaving ealadan, Paul has a dream that Lynch depicts th ro ugh a montage sequence. W e see a drop of water fa lling into a pool th at d is sol ves ro a close-up of F ey d-Rautha (Sting), a mem be r of the House H a rkonnen (the enemy of the Atreides), say ing, 'T U kili you ." A nother dissolv e leaos ro the ¡mage of a moon (as Paul's voi ce-ove r says, "the second m oon"), and this dissolves bac k to more drops of water falling into a pool. The fi nal im age depicts the F rem en C hani, who says, "Tell me of yOllr home world, Usul. " Through rhis dream mom age, Pa ul foresees rhe res t of rhe film : he wiU becom c a F rem en w ith the name Usul, discover vast amouots of wa ter on Arrakis, fi g ht and kili Feyo Rauth'1 after freeing Arrak is, and fall in love w ith C hani. Su t from the pcrspective of the world of d esi re, this is ooly a d ream , nol yet a reality. The promi sed enjoyment ex ists here only in a futural sc nsc. Sut enj oy m ent does penetrate in to the wo rlo of Calada n in the for m of the threa tcning othe r. In Dune, th e worlJ w he rc the imposs ible ob ject is absent has onl y a Aeeting existencc ano finds irscJf u nd er assault from the beginning. Calada n is an island that enj oymenr rhreatens ro overru n . When Paul spa rs witb G urney, Lynch shows them fi gh ting with shieJd s to protec t themselves. T hese tra nslucent fo rce ficl ds CQve r the eotire body and protect each person from m e opponen t's knife thrusts . But at th e end of the fi g ht, both Paul and G uroey penet rate the other's shield and hold each other at knifepoint. This is poss ible, as they explain, beca use the shicld can not dcfend a slow movement ofthe kn ife. One has protec tion fr om the th rea t, but one rem ain s vu ln erable. The threa t m akes its presence more keenly felt w hell Reve rend Mother Gaius H elen Mohiam tests Paul. She forces him to place hi s hand in a green box that produces pain, and if he removes his hand , she will stab him with a poison d an. As she acti vates me box, L ynch shows an imJ ge of Paul's charred ha nd wim Aames su perimposed and smoke coming from ir. H e alternates a se ries of shor~ sh mving incn.:a.¡jng dam age to Paul 's hand wi th shots showing hi s aglllll zn l LllT ¡llI d I he Rcver end Mother administering (he pa in . \ 1 11", 1' 1111 "(ti,, ' " nt'~srIJI test, Pau! removes hi s h¡lnu frorn th!.' 11t )\, .1 11.1 Wl' ~r,' I'lItl \ll\d:llnnged
,.\
111\
\ M~OSS llll1
D~ v\n
\ Y,.,l' lI
hand . Hc co nfronts-ano we co nfro nt-an irnagc o f burning, but not actual burning. The world of oesi re depicted here is a ",orld in which the rcal thr::ats and the real enj oymen t are elsewhere.
Voices Unhinged Seyond Caladan, the world depicteo in DU17C is co mpl etely fantasmatic: enjoyment is present throughout lhis world. The ind iea tions that the film fuHy immerses us in a world offantasy are apparent in the nu ances of the film's formo The form lacks the stability ;l nd distance that we find in social reality; the barricrs ano limita tions that constitute Our experi ence of ex ternal rea lity are absent. Thi s becomcs espee i:dly ev ident in the film 's yoicc-over narration. Dune begin s with the image of a narra tor, Princess J rulan, speaking directly into the ca mera. Rathe r than pro vide a se nse of narrativ e stability that would allow us to loeate ourselves w ith in the narra tjve as spectators, this initial direct addrcss and subse quent vojce-over has the oppos ite effect. In mis sense, the role of voice over narration in Dune co ntrasts with the role that it plays in most other films, especiall y in film noir. W hen film noi r em ploys a narrato r, hc- almost al ways he-has the cffcc t of provi d ing a g uide for our journey in to the darkness of the film noir world . I n such films , the na rrator se rves as our Virgi l, guiding us and providing us w ith a se nse of stabil ity in a world lack ing ir. T he film noir voice-ovcr work s ro offse t the radicali ty of the fi lm's explorati on of soci ety's underside. lt locates the spectator safely wi thin the social order wh ile invcstigating challenges to it. S ut thc voice-ove r narration in Dune works in almost exactl y the opposite way. lt se rves to destabilize the spectator beca use of its u nusual deployment.9 Lynch demonstrates the lack of stability in Iru lan's narra tion in the opening scene and in the patte rn-or lack of patte rn-in her subse quent narrati vc intrusio ns. The first shot of lhe fi lm is a close-up of Ir ulan's eyes. T hc camera pulls ba ck to a shot of he r eotire face, and she narrates the backg roun d for th e film's story. Sut as Trul an begin s to dis cuss the spice and ¡ts ce ntra l role in the economy of the filmic world, the image of her face disa ppears fr om th e scrcen. She subsequent ly reap pca rs, and then, as she oisappears a sccond rim c, ~h c quickl y reappears again :11 11 1 nOf es Ih ;lr she fo rgot to disC ll ~, li le 1I1/" L im p' )rwnt detail the loC II jlll l ,,[ 11 " 'picc. T h is om i:;sillll .11111 ( elf n'~ I ¡
, ,,
lan's ;lUthority (as films scldom do wirh their narrarors) and subverts the sense of srahil iry rha t vo ice-ove r narra tion tend s to proviJ e for the
When one employ s "t.he voice," 0 I1 C'S OW11 voi ce alters in piteh a nd ronal ity, a nd thi s alte rarion allows the speaker ro ca use ot.he rs to aet in
specrator. Th e di sappearance and reappea ra nce of her image on th e screen disconnects vo ice from im age, furth c r destabilizing the spec tator in relation to the na rrariv e. r o
ways thar they do not consciousl y intend . Lynch's presentation of the voice 'cmphas izes its ability ro thwart the mastery we usuall y associate with speec h. The sOll nd of the speake r's voice loses the disrincuve ehar
Bur what is most significant about this opening scenc of direct ad dress is rhe timing of the initi al disappea rance ofIrulan's image. Irulan's
acrer of the speaker, beeoming d eep and completely hollow. W hat a cha racter say~ while using m e vo ice lacks the usual tim ber that we hea r in he r voice and reso un d s in a haunting register. It is as if durin g rhe
face disappears when she talks about the spice and its power. By linking the disappearance of the film's narrato r to her discussion of the spice, Lynch impli es th e incompa tibility of subjecti ve mastery and enjoymcnr. The spice, a substance of pure enjoyme nt, oerails the mastering powe r of lrulan's narr:ltion and eve n causes he r to forger momentarily a c ru cial part of he r prese ntatíon. In the fanta sy world of Dunc, cnjoyment, not the mastering powe r o f voice-ove r narration, hold s sway. This is also why Irulan 's narration during rhe rcsr (lf the film is so inconsiste nt. After her ini rial d esc riptions of the n a rrati ve situarian, he r na rration disappea rs for long period s of time and reappea rs at random . This is one of rhe ways in which L ynch departs from his source text, Frank H erbert's novel DI/ne. Whe reas Lynch esrahlishes lrulan 's narra tive voice as unreliabl e anc! incon sistent, He rbert uses it as a consta nt and reassuring p rese nce. Thi s depa rture from m e novel suggests the fantas matic narure of the world Lynch sets up in tbe film. Here, the mas ter ing voice no longe r holo s sway: the fan tasma tic world of the film seve rs rhc voice from its role in stabilizing our cx peri ence. Mastery fails in the fantas)' when it comes up against the prolife ra tion of the impossible objecr. The role of Irula n's voice in her narration exem plifies Ly nch's trea t ment of the voice rhrough our hi s film s. Fo r Lynch, the voice functions as an impossible object e mbod ying the ultimate enj oy m e nt. Rather than quelling our d esire by providing a sense of m aster)', he depicts the voice as an eng ine for our desi rc-on e of the objecr-causes that triggers ir. Slavoj Zizek cla ims thatDunc isolates "the obseene, cruel, superego-like, incom prehensible, impenetrable, trauma rie dim e nsion of th e voice which is a kind of foreign hody perturbing the balance of our lives."" This conception ofthe voice is apparcnt nor only in (rlll, lIÚ narra ti on but also in the way the voiee figures wi thin rlw fi 1111 \ 11.11 1.1' 1\"('. 111 {)Ul1C, m e voiee is a weapon rha t the wome n oh 111" (k ili (tl .\ll I ;' 1'1 11"\1hnod-a nd eventuall y Palll- L1se ro sunvc rt lit e ,1111 11t}l ll V ,,1 1.111 ' ,'tlll',1 1I 'Il~ wi ll.
7/¡
TH r IMP OSG 'fll l
DA Vln lVNC It
im plemenrarion of the voice th e characrer's voiee detaches from the characrcr herself and beeomes an indc pe ndcntl y cx isring objcct. This accounts for its ab ili ty to unsettle both cha rac ters within the fi lm and specta tors wa tching, as the· use of the voice by Pa ul 's sister A lia (Alicia Roa nn e Wi tt) a ttests m os r cl eady. W e see A lia, who is jusr a young girl, use rhe voiee on Baron H a rkonnen. The sound of th e voi ce coming from Alia is especially disturbing beca use its dee p souncl conrrasrs to sueo
lu
activa t!.! d1t: Wl·" pOll. 1\... w ilh lhe v"icc. rhis
[l ll Nf
weapon requires the subject to identify w ith the voice as an obj ect--or
ing. No sy mbolie authority exis t~ 11) :.tnbil ize rhe se nse of what is real
at lea st to cxpc rie nce he r/ his voice as a d etached objcct. This wea pon
and 'vv hat is not or to police th e b:lr ricr bctwee n th e inte rnal and the ex
d oes not appear in H c rbe rt's novel; Lync h adds it in the film , as he ma
te rnal. In this wo rld, there ha s beco no origina ry loss of the pri vileged
ni pulates Irulan's narratio n, in orde r to stress the radical powcr of the
object: one ca n still have direct a.ccess ro en joyrnen t, and as a res ult, it prolife ra tes.
vo ice as an im possible obj ec t a nd the prolife ration of this object rh roug h out the fantasy world of D une . E ve n the reru rn of Irulan's narrat iv e voice fails to reassert a se nse of
A world withou t an o rig ina ry 105s- a world that enables direct ac cess to e njoym ent- is neccssa ril y a fantasmatic world . T he p rivileged
stabili ry to thi s wo rlJ. Instability arises from th e use of the audible in
object does not cx ist prior to its lossj th e loss of this o bject is the crucial
ne r voice-we hea r thoughts-of so ma n)' oth e r cha ractc rs in the fil m .
evcnt, which gives it its privileged status aod constitutes it as the object
This technique, as M ichel Chion notes, is "a lmost uniq ue" in thc his
embod ying the ultimate enj oyrne n t. A world wi thout me o riginary loss
to ry of cinem a. But Ly nch uses it here for a ver y precise reason: the au
of this obj cct can ooly exist retrospectivel y after one has lost it. Fantasy
dible inner vo ices indicate the absence of a cleady del ineated sense of
providcs the retrospec tive look thar en visions this impossible world
external rea lity. Beca use its w urld is so completcl y a world offa n tas y, in
prior to the loss of dircc t accc ;.;s ro enjoyment . By nostalgically imagin
Dune one cannot distinguish betwcen the inte rnal a ne! the exte rnal
ing a tim e befo re loss, fantas)' produces a world where barri ers and limits do not hold .
bet ween psychic rea li ty and social re::di t)'. Thi s is o ne of the results of fanta sy. Part of w hat makes fa ntasy en joyablc is its abi lity ro erase this barri er a nd to permit us to imagi ne acts rha r wou ld have rea l cffecrs. Th e absence of d elinearion betw ee n the inte rnal a nd the exte rnal vo ice has ram ificat io ns fo r the spccta to r as w el l: it furth e r di sturbs
Inside Is Outside Both th e prolife rat ion of enj oy m e nt and the breakdown between the
our ahility to g ain a sense of mastery ove r the filmic real jry. A s C hio n
im e rna l and exte rnal m anifest themsel ves prom ine ntl y in the character
pu ts it,
uf Ba ron Vladi mir H arko nne n. Ba ron H a r ko n ncn is a fig ure of pure enjoy rnen t. as bot h his bod y and h is be.havior ev in ee. H is bod y is n ot
Th e film 's in ne r voices, often spoken softl y, belong to the same
on ly ov erw ei gh t h Ul ravaged by di seases that distort h is appearance.
space as the exte rnalised voices, thus bl urring our rd a rion to rea l
Open and ooz ing sores co ver his fa ce. These visi ble Jiseases do oo t
ity. T he rea 1i ry on show rests on a discourse proffe red as if in a
transfo rm rhe Baron into a fig u re of pity-that is, they do n ot ind icate
d ream. Lynch's intention was indeed to m ake a d ream -film, thoug h
his failure o r inability to enjoy- but insleaJ ser ve as an index of th e ex
this is not to S;¡ y th at he w holly m aste red me p roj ect. The problem
tent to w hich he does enjoyo T h e diseases appear to be the result of h is
w ith such a Rock of me ntal voices is that they jam the othe r voice
proA.igate li fe, a nd this p roAigacy continues to exist in the ve ry open
over, th e traclitional na rrative voice of P rincess [rul an , so that she
sores th e mselves. Ba ron Harkonn en's rcl a tion ship to his ow n diseases
seems like an intrud e r, out of pbce. w he n she return s an hour a fre r
m a kes this clear. Rat her than being ashamed of his grotesque complex
the begin ni ng of the film . 12
ion, Ba ron H a rkonn en ta kes pridc in it. H e employs a doctor to nurse
Th ough Ch io n adroitly anal yzes the effect that th e inne r voices h a ve
Ba ron, "You are so bcautiful , rn y Baron. You r sk in , love to me. Your
his w ound s a nd profess their beau ty. A t one point, the doctor says to the on the spectator, hi s cri tic ism of Lync h fo r lhe confusi on they generare
diseases loving ly eared fo r, fo r all etc rn iry." Thi s state rnent (which cen
relative to l rulatú na rration mi $sc$ the rok Ihal t1l i~ l"<mf'llsi<) n pla ys in
sors removed from the tel e\' ision ex ten cled-lc.ngth vc.rsio n of th e film)
the expe ri ence
the fi lm . By cre:l ting
Cu lTl pet ing
re veals that th ese d iseases functio n as a so urce of prid c for th e Ba ron
voices an cl the rcby und e rm ining t111' :111 1111 11 tl y ,,1 11 11 IHl lllary VOi Cé
insofar as tlwy m ark hi s p ri\ ikgcd rc la tions hip ro cnj oymen t. They
ovcr narra lion, Lyn ch crca tn;¡ li h ll \, I lI'lt~ ~~" lIh", 1 1I Ill fh ll r il } i~ Iack
a lso
76
of
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diseaSed parts o fth e Ba ron's skin are paints at which his sk in no longe r
cloing his part to sustain a n orderl y w o rld. The ;tcti vities a nd the déctlr
covers the insio c of h is hod y. ' 3 Through the diseases, m e Ba ron's imides
of th e Ba ron's palace chamber suggest that bodily enjoyment holds a
bubblc to the surface, suggesting that his body exis ts w ith out the limits
priv'¡¡eged place here. The Ba ron and bis nephews enjoy excess ively
that define the typical body.
a nd show no compunction about the ra mifications of mis en joyment on
The Barnn also openly d ispl ays his u nrestrained sexuaJ e n joyment in
others or the w orld. None ofthe restraints OIl en joymc n t th a t we w ould
almost every action he performs in the film. Most obviously, he Aies
expect to govern social interaction are ,in effecr on the H arkonnen
around while al! th e othe r characters in th e film rem a in confine u ro the ground. Through th e way mat the film depicts h is fl ying, its assoc iatio n
planet of Giedi Prime. Tbe perv asiveness of sexual or bodily enjoym en t in H a rkonnen so
with enjoyment becomes elca r.' 4 For instance, afte r he avo ids the assas
ciety indicates that the fan ra sy scenario of Dum: h,lS successfully by
sination attempt b y Duke Leto that kills his assistam P ite r de V r ies
passed sy mbolic law and prohibition. The unrestrained cnjoyment that
(Brad Dourif), the Baron cireles the room near the ceiling and shouts
we see in H a rkonnen soc iety an d in the Baron himself is the direct re
repeatedly, ''I'm ali ve." An ea rlier outbreak o f even more excess ive eo
sult of the very fantas m atic structure that produces Paul 's victory and
joyment occurs when the Baron first plans the e!ea th of Le to. After de
apotheosis at the end of the film. In th e primal fantasy that Dune enacts
scrihing his pIan to eliminate the duke, he fli es to the ceiling of his
that allows the subiect to access sllccessfully total enjoyment (in the
chamber where a liquid oil-like substance spews fo rth froIn a pipe.
form of the spice). the re can be no symbolic la w barring th is access. The
While levitating below the pipe, the Ba ron barhes in tb e li quid , all ow
symbolic la w places an interdicti o n on th e ki nd of total cnjoyment that
ing it to flow over his head and body. Lynch shoors thi s sce ne so as to
the spice prov ides, a nd thus the sce na rio tha t would render this enjoy
emphasize the sexual dimension of the experie nce for the Ba ron . We
m ent accessible must lack thi s law. The result, as Lynch's film shows, is
see the Raron tilt hi s head back as the liquid falls o n hi m ane! a look o f
a figure lik e Baron H ar konnen . He is the pricc th a t one pays for access
great satisfaction comes ac ross his facc. He flies back to [he g round w here his g uards holJ a young boyo The
to the inaccess ible. By de picting the Ba ro n and hi s socieey in the w ay th at he does, Lynch
Baron carcsses the boy, then pulls o ut the boy's hea rt plug, w h ich causes
shows the necessary und ersid e o f the c1assical Hollywood fa ntasy that
all the blood to ru sh from his body.1 5 A s the boy is dying and as his
we seldom see in the c1a ssi ca l Holl ywood fi lm . S u t we shou ld see it.
blood spurts on the Baron, the Ba ron h un ches o ve r hirn w irh a nothe r
Hollywood fi.l m p ro m ises
expression of sexu al satisfacrion. For the 8 3roll, th is type o f perve rse
great restrain t in its dep iction. Th is restra int creates na rrative desire by
enjoyment occurs publicl y anc! at the expe nse of o th e rs wbo are not
with holding the fu ll d eploy ment of m e fantasy; by not exercising re
sharing his enjoyme nt (and w h o even die as a result o[ it), ano yet he
straint in this regard , Lynch occas ions a negative reaction from specta
experiences no shame in his acts . A s his relationship to his diseases a lso
to rs w ho want to ho ld on to some of th eir desire. An absence of restrai nt
IJS
a fa n tas matic escape an d th en excrcises
indicates, the Baro n pr ides him sel f on his ability lO cnjoy a nd d isp lay
allo ws Paul to reali ze d irectl y his drcam iosof:lC as it breaks dow' n
publicly this enj oyment. These displays a re onl y possible beca use of the
the ba rrier between dream an d reality: Paul dreams of the vast stores
absence of any symbolic a u thority in the fantasma tic wo rld thal Dutle depicts. ,6
sav ior- all of w hich he reali zes . This same ahsence of restraint facili
of water on Arrakis, of C h ani hecom ing his 1over, and of becoming a
Everything about the Ha r k on nen world $uggests an absence of ;lO y
tates Baron Ha rkonnen's public display of his private enjoy m e nt . A
limitation on enjoyment. In the scene w here rhe B;.lron pl nLs rhe d eath
complete irnmersion into the log ic of fa Olasy d e m ands the inelusion of
ofLeto, we see one (lf the Baron 's n ephe w s, Rahh;¡ 1l (f'; lld :-;rnith), crush
the Ba ron. Rather th an hiding this cxcess, Lynch 's film foreg rounds it.
an in sect in a smalJ cOIltQine r élnd then driJ) k tlll' li' llIlI l ll l ti ¡llrms [rom
Th c fi gu re oC H arkonnen and [he obscc nity uf G icdi P ri me are part
this process. A fter drinking from thl: l ll lll.llllt 1 H 11111.111 \llill'ly lOsscs it.
of the price \Ve pay a ~ spectators (or t11l' ranla ~ y Ihal Dlll1C r r~)ffe.r s . This
aside into an open pool of w aWr. 11 i, '"1,, "111
80
rHf- I MP or.S l nu DAV I D I YNC II
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111
But our enjoyment ofhim renders the obscenity of our own enjoym ent visible tu ourse! ves. The depiction of the Harkonnc n world forces us to sce the aspect of our fantasy that we would like to disavow, and yet it is integral to the way that fan tasy delivers on its promises. This is what the proliferatiün of en joyment in fanta sy looks like.
The fantasmatic \vorl d o fDune is a world without a n effectivc prohibi tion and without the restraint on enjoyment that such a prohibitiün brings.'7 H ere, unlike in our cxpericnce of social reality, one can have a direct experience of an impossible enjoyment. This absence of restralnt on enjoyment provides the key ro understanding the role th at the spice plays. In the world of Dune the spicc functions as w ha t Lacan calls das Ding , the maternal Thing, the substance of pure e njoym ent. Oroinarily, the Thing occupies the center of our reality, ano yet it cannot appear within our cxpe rience of rc::d ity. Reali ry itsclf is con structeo around the exclusion of th e Thing . As Laca n notes in Seminal" Vll, "das Ding is a t the center onl)' in the sense that it is excl uded . That is to say, in reality das Ding has to be posited as exte ri or, as the preh is toric Oth e r that it is impossibl e to forget .. . som ething strange to m e, although ir is a t the heart of m e, something that on m e leve! of th e un conscious only a representation can represent. " J8 In Dune, howcvcr, th e Thing is not excluded from the filmic wo rld but exists w ith in it. Though access to it is dan ge rous (in volving the ri sk of a lethal encountc r with the worms), one can noncthekss reach it. O n ly in th e world o f a funda mental fantasy can the Thing exist on the same pl:lOe as othcr objects. 'vVhcn Paul first encou nte rs the spice, the film registe rs its link ro the ultimate enjoyment: he smells the spice on hi s finge rs, and th e sc reen be comes completel y w hite, as it does when He nry touches the Radiaror Lady in Eraserhead. Lyn ch assüciates the spice with enjüyment through its qualities, cffccts, and rarity. frulan's opening narration tells us that the spice is the m ost valuablc comm od ity in the u nive rsc and that it is 10 cated on only one plane t, A rra kis . The desolate nature of the surfact of Arrak is-its near-totallack of wate r- ancl the prcscncc ()f the worm s,
me
which pro tect the spice from sp.ice mine rs. hnth St· r\ t' 1<1 m:tkc spice ve ry difficult ro obtai n. One must consl:tllll y 1"'1 II I I! \ li /t il l ris k because one mu st mi ne in rhe open dcscrl :tll.] '\. !~ ¡ Y I II IIIIII ~', '¡pcr: ll ioll b ri ngs
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DA VIIJ I 'iN ' 11
against other commodities. But this value cloes Ilot de ri ve simply from its preClous ness. The chicf property of the spice is its abilüy ro fold space, which is the use the Guild naviga to rs put it towa rd. Thi s use ofth e spice allows space traveLe rs to trave rse immensc distan ces w ithout actua lly müving: it causes distancc irse!f to disa ppear (wh ich m akes it an id eal substance for
The Worms and the Spice
81
the worms soon after it bcgins. T hcsc d ifflcul ti es testify t,) the spice's pr¡(:cious nature. Ir has such a g rea t vallle that it can not be meas ured
Lynch's cinema of proximity ). W he n we enjoy, we mom e nta rily evade the confines and limitations ofou r sym bolic ide nti ty; t he spice represents the ultimate enjoyment beca use it allows one to evade the spatial ancl temporallimitati ons of reality irself. Ir p rovides a n actual experience of w hat Freud calls the "ocea nic feeling "- a.n experience in whic h one 's distance from the res t of th e univ erse evapora tes. For Freud, rhis fee!ing is always on1y imagina ry insofa r as th e T hing rem ains consrituti vely out of reac h. ' 9 Bllt in the fantasm atic world of Dune, the T hing exi sts on th e sam e plane as üthe r em pirical objects w ithout losing its p ri vileged status. T h is is rh e feat th :1t the fantasy iu Dune accom plishes, an d it rend ers visi ble an im possible cxpe rie nce-total en joymenl. Much of the negativc rea ction tu D ullt: stems from Lynch 's at tempt to show Lhe exper ience of total en joymcnt. Most film s promise lh is ex perie nce, but a1m ost none dc pict it. W hy not? T he depiction of total cnj oy m e nt cannor but stri ke th e spectato r as absurd and incom mel1SU ra te w ilh the cx pectation th a t precedes it. We prefer just a hi n t of this ultimate experience rarher than the experience itsel f so that we ca n COI1 tin ue to anticipa te its (infinite) magniLU d e. But Lynch 's film cloes not allow rhis. T h e fig ures of total cnjoyrnenr in DU12e are me G uild navi gators. T hey ex ist in constant contact w ith the spice and use it ro fold space, bu t this co ntact w ith the T hing d eforms them . In our first view of a Gui ld nav igatu r in the E mpe ror's palace, we scc a fi shlike creature w ith a n enl a rged head and a sm~¡]1 body. Throug hclose-ups on the un dulating m outh a nd a bulgin g eye, the disgust ing form of this creature becomes cv iclent. A n imme rsion in com plete en joyment transforms the G uiJd nav iga to rs, acco rding to Ly nch's vision, into grotesque beas ts. This is thc spectato r's im agc uf th e ultim a te en joy ment. Lynch pushes rhe depictio n cvc n furrh cr w he n he shows the G uil d na vigato rs ¡·; lld ing space so th at Hous(" Alrc itll:' c m Ira vel to A r rak is. We S(;~· ll w " lIl lrl· hody of a G ui ld n:t v;g;t l, Ir \ i,¡¡ ,k in ;tll extreme long
P UNF
.1.1
sh or, and thi s shot reveals the ahsurd form of this creature. Th e n aviga
ascend s fully to his fantasmatic role ufthe un iverse's super- hein g , Lyn ch
tor does not a p pea r frighterring, powcrful, or attracti ve-j ust sil1 y. T h e
illustrates the traum a involveJ w ith the complete reali zation of one's fantas y.
poor special e.ffects in this scenc add to this sens e. But the silliness of the imag c does no r m ark a point of Lynch's failure in Durze; ir re presents
Clearly, the idea of anyone as the uni verse's super-be ing is fanta s
che successful depiction ()f complete enjoyme nr. W he n one imme rses
m a tic, and ye t, w hen P aul tak es up this position, h e is a bl e to make a
oneself in enjoyment, one loses onc's sym bolic anchoring and becom es
connecti on that no sub ject ca n actually slIstain. G ra spi.ng the identity of
absurdo One ¡no ves bcyond the bounds of sense. The subject d oesn 't
the wor m s and th e spice means see ing rn e inccstuous o bj ect, the object
enjoy by possessing the object; t'tle object tak es control of and d cforrm
tb ar a lways threa tens to swa ll ow me su b ject, in the object one fa ntasizes
rhe sub jcct.
abollt. L yn ch reveals rhe tra uma of rh is recogn ition in his depiction of
The Jbsurdity continues in Lynch's depiction oh he fo ldi ng of space.
P 3u l's transformation. We see a variation on rhe mo ntage sequen ce that
We see the Guild na vigator moving through a giant ship that holds the
repeats seve ral ti mes in the 111m: a sho t of <el d rop of water fal1ing into a
ships that \v il1 travel across the folded space. W hile m oving, che n aviga
pool, fo llowed by a shot of a worm mouth ope ning, ;md then anoth er
tor shoots a beam ofl ight ou t o f its midsection . Se vera l other streams of
dro p fa ll i ng . Lyn ch c uts bJck to Pa ul's face with a loo k of agony as h is
lig ht burst fort:b fr om the G uild navigator as we begi n to hea r a rdi
voice -ove r says, " T h e wo rm is the spice. T he spice is the w orm." A.fte r
gious chant on the audi o track, w hich adds a sacred qu ality to rhe expe
this rccogni tio n, h e ha s a look ofhorror and screams, " N o! " In a se ries
rience. The stream s oflight are visible aga ins t a bac kg rou nu of sw irling
of sh ors w e see th e Bene Gcsseri l wom en al1 regi ste r the trauma o f me
an d fticke r ing points of brig htn ess . We see pla ne ts en com passed by
recogn ition as well: L ynch sh ows Reve re nd Mothe r G;:¡ ius Heleo Mo
wa ves cf the di fferent streams of light tha r then return to the G uild
hiam , P nul's moth er Jessica (Francesca An n is), an d his si ste r A lia a ll
navigato r itsdf. Lyn ch 's use of images ofbri g ht: Iight and sa cred mu sic
bleed ing fr om th eir lDou th s. W h en one recogn izes the id eJlt ity of th e
he re create th e sense of a complete ly fantasma tic ex pe rience . Whe n
wo rrns a.nd rhe spi ce, one loses rhe di stancc w ithin on ese lf dlar makes
s pJce fo ld s, on e experiences a ki n d of en joymen t ma t one can n ot access
ne a su bject, lranscendi n g the p rimord ial repression ch at inau gu ra res
w it hout the speci al qua li ty of the sp ice, but the film re vea ls th is en joy
subjccti vi ty ilself T h is is possi ble o nly in fant asy, and even in fa n tasy
m en t as nonse nsical. lt is difficult to cnjoy the de p icti on of total e nj oy
we stop fan tas izing be fo re We reach this po int.
m enr in Dune bccause lhe excessi ve images d etach this en joyme n t from
T he en joyme n t th al Pau l find s in hi s fantaS)' o f saving th e w orld is a fem ini n e e nioyment. He tells the Revere n d Mm h er Ga ius H elen Mo
the rea lm of sig nifica tion. As th e T hing , the spice is the site of the ultirl1J te enjoym en t, but as the em bodi me nt o f the ultimare en joym en t , it rep resents a ho rro r as
hiam, "Try looki ng into tha t p lace w here
yO ll
cia re not look . You 'lI fincl
me there sra r ing bac k a t yOll. " Thi s place inside herself w here w o men
wen-the com p lete loss o f sig nifica tion and mastery. Accord ing to
"dare fl ot look" is the site of fem in ine enjoymen t- an ex perience that
L acan, F reud's great insight is his grasp of the ident iry hetwcen rhe
overw helms the fe m a le sub ject ro such a n exten t that she can n ot h ave
high est good an d the greatest horror. He show s, in o the r w o rd s, th at
a ny know ledge of it. As rh e Reverend M other tell s Paul ea rly in the
tl1e ohject thar would provid e th e ulti mate enj oyment, th e T h ing, is at
fil m , no m an ha s ever su ccessfu Uy accessed it, tho ug h m an y ha ve "cried a nd died."
th e same tim e a fo rbidden incestuous obj ect. DUllc initial1 y de picts these order to o btai n rhe ultimate e nj oyment (the spice). BU( w he n Paul un
In orde r to depict Pau l's access to fe minine enj oym ent, Lynch high ligh ts rhe fc m inine na t ure of the sp ice and th e worms. T h is in[orms the
J ergoes his fioal tram fo rma tion into th e Kwi);;wl. H ~¡d e rach a fre r
mosr important cha nge rh ar L ync h m a k es
:lS
distincr: one must run th e ri sk ofthe ult.im are ho rror (lhe worms) in
drinking tbe water of Ji fe, the fil m ;]ssc rI " !I \(' id L11111 >IIr ,lit: ~pice and
d1C w o rm s-the ide n tit y h orror.
~4
of
the ul li lTl :¡l c "IIJ Ct~ " H
By d cpicting Paul com in g
1111 IM I'n S&1 11l 1 " "'V I lO l YNC II
111
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t CI
Herbnt's ll ovel. W he reas
H~r b~ c mp hnsizes th e immense size an d p ha llic na u lre o f the wo rms,
Lyn ch's i ma gc~ of rhc.:rn foc ll s aJmost sn ldy m oul h ~.
;111 (IPIIIIII.\I IIHII
s uggests :1 vólg in a
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shoots the worms as thcir mouth~ open, anJ we ~ee th e gaping hole that threate ns to swallow everything. By gi ving the wo rms this vag inallook and associating th em with the spice, Lynch suggests that the enjoymcnt ofthe spice is specifically fem inine enjoyment. Masculine enjoyment is tied to the soc ial o rder beca use it occurs through an identification with the ccnter of this o rder-the master or phallic signifier. Enj oying lik e ama n means getting off on the illusion of phallic potency. As phallic enj oyment, it nevcr threa tens th e ph::tllic so cial arder. But fe minine enjoym ent or jouissa nce caonot be red uced to this order beca use it does not d epend on its connection to the ma ster sig nifier. Lacan has feminine enjoyment in mind in Seminar XX when he daim s, "There ,is a jauissanee ... ' beyond th e phallus.' "20 Thi s enj0Y ment transcends the phal lic order in sofar as it is al ways outside of itsdf, always elsewh ere. Ir is the enjoyment that one feds when one is over co me and experiences an eve nt that goes beyond one's abil ity to rcgister il. 2 1 One experiences w ithout knowing precisely w hat one is experienc ing. The difference betwee n m::tsculine and feminine enjoyment is the difference betwee n the finite and the infinite. T he fini te nature of m as culine enjoyment rend ers it qua ntifiable and containable; th e infi n ite na ture of feminin e en joyment renders it diffuse an d u ngrasp::tblc. W hereas masculine enjoy ment can- and most often does- ass ist in the functÍ on ing of powe r, femi ni nc en joyment necessarily disrupts ir. T hough control of the spic e appea rs to provid e power, it rem ain s, as the substance of enjoyrn ent, fun damenta ll y beyond an y con trol. In fact, it controls those who tIy to wield the power that it promises. Th is be comes apparent in the c::tse of me G uild na vigators . T hough the G uild uses the spice to retain a monopoly on space travel, the fi lm illustrates how the G uild is actuall y enslaved to the sp ice. Not only is the Gu il d completcly addicted to t he spice to the exten t th at it can not live without it, but th e G u ild 's excessi ve exposure to the spice has deformed the Guild navigators into grotesque creatures. T ltey exist in giant tanks of liquid and have large vagin al openings in their midsections. T his spe cifically vaginal opening is wh al facilitates th e fold ing of space. W hile using the spice to fold space, one enj oys beyond th e phallus. The appearance of fe minine cn joyment in a fantasmatic film Iike Dune is not simply happenstance. The thrill ()r r;¡ lltil~y-cv cn rbe mass produced fantasi cs of c1a ssical H oll yw,,, ,d ,il ll'l ll.1 111''' in Cantasy's a bil ity to approach [em in inc.: en JOY" I'
86
l11 f l M POSS 1[1 l~ DAVI D l YNC~
11 1
I
d 111 .I .. n
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111 111\1' lIS
an en joy
ment that goes beyond th e acceptable an d transcends the constraints of the social o rd er. Howeve r, most de pictions of fan tasy avoid approach ing too close an d thus allow our experience to rem ain safely pleasur able. Dune becomes unpl easurable beca use one loses one's safe distance and en joys too much o The result is th e mass ive disavowal of the film 's achicvem ent-a disavowal tha t extends eve n to Lynch himself.
The Perfect Ending T he ending of the film shows Paul's triumph both as (he new ruler of Arrakis and in his romantic union w im C hani. By bringing the two narrative lincs of adventure and roma nce together in the fil m's conclu sion, Lynch follo ws the classical Hollywood conventíon, offering a qu intessen tial fa ntasma tic resolution for the spectalOr. A fter the depic ti on of the military victory, Lynch even ¡neludes a g ratuitous knife fight betwecn Paul and the Baron's ne ph ew, Feyd-Ra utha , w h ich allows the spectaro r to en joy Paul's sk ill with the k nife and me grucsome death of the evi l Feyd. Thc fi lm goes out of its way ro resolve all sense of dissat isfaction through the fantas m aric conelusion tha t it la ys o ut. In the fi nal scene of tbe fi lm , Paul accompli shes rhe impossi ble: he brings rain LO A rrak is mrough apure act of w ill. The camera moves LO wa rd a close-up of PauJ's bl ue eye that dissoJ.ves into me image of the seas of Cal ada n, suggesting mat Pau l creates the rai n by bringin g the wa ter f ro m Calad an ro Arrak is. H e completes rhe realization of his fantasy of saving A rrakis by bring in g Lhe external w o rld of social real ity into the fantasy. T he ba rr ier between these wo rl ds disa ppea rs at this poinl. A s the ra in becom es visible in an exterior shot of A rrakis, we hear Al ia using the voice and proclai ming, "A nd how can this be? For he is the Kw isatz Haderach l" T his is perh aps more enjoyment than the cinem a has eve r crea ted: Paul sa ves the oppressed F remen, kills his ri val, overpowe rs the d es potíc E mperor, crea tes rai n for a desert planet, has his fantas y object C han i as h is lover, and ascends to the throne of the un ive rse's super-being-w hile Alia's distorted voice, representing the impossibl e object, provides th e comm enta ry. The fa ilu re of D une, if that is wh at we wan t to caU it. is its succcssfu l en actm ent of en joym cnt for me spectator. Lynch aUows us no di~ t;lI1 cc rrotn thc cnjoym ent that wc scc, a nd bis d('p:lrture from h is so u rcc matcr iJ I fu rthcr indicates this direct illll in tll' ¡t1 I1I ,
/JlllU
111
Likc Lynch, F rank H erbert io the no vel Dune depicts the victory of Paul and the Fremen ayer the Baron and the Emperor. Rut Herhert taints this vicrory in ways that L yoch J oes noto H erbe rt explicitly links Paul's conquest to religiolls fuodamenta lism , to a jihad that Paul him self tries to avert. H erbe rt em phasizes Paul's internal conflict about the struggle he llnleash es , and thus we cannot vie w the conclusion as un ambiguously as in L ynch's film. In addition, He rbert informs us that the Fremen lege nd of a sa voir who w illlea d them is in fact an ideologi callie, imp la nted by the Bene Gesserit in order to render the Fremen more docilc. By excluding this material that complicates and even un derm ines Pau l's victory, Ly nch allows us to enjo)' this victory to the ut most. A nd in doing so, he shows whe re our en joyment Hes and the costs of this enj oymen t. He ineludes the element of religious fundamental ism present in H erbert's novel-at the moment of his victory, Paul pro ela ims, "G od created Arrak is ro train the faithfu l. One cannot go again st the w ord of G od " -but doesn't allaw us to mainta in distance from it through Paul's internal struggle in the way that H c rbert does. In the film version, we enjo)' the fantasm a tic reso lution an d then must con fro nt the ra mifica tions of this enjoym ent w h ile th e novel's distance spares us fro m th is enjoym cnt altogether. O ne fi nds oneself llnambigu ousl y on the side of resolution wh ile watching th e film and thereby ex peric nces fully the ramifications of one's fan tasizing. Ma n)' science fiction films place LIS on the side of the working-cla ss revolll tion---o r at Icast revolu tion aga inst oppress ion. Even films as mainstream as Star Wa rs (George L ucas, T977), Total Recall (Pa ul Ver ho even, 1990), and The [stand (Michael Bay, 20(5) sympatheri call y portra)' the prospect of revoluti ona ry change. In each case, liberati on occurs through the agency of an enlig htened avant-garde. Th e revolutionar)' elite acts w ith certaint)' even w hen the ma jori ty of the population to be liberatcd doesn 't agree with them . But the films de-emphasi ze this total itarian d imension implicit in the revolts: we ha ve revolutionary change without coercion. Dune makes the coercive force of Paul conspicuous through th e fundamentalist dimension of his revolution. The film sug gesrs rhat if we are seriousl y embrac ing revolution ar)' change, w e must accept the coerci ve form in w hich it neces sarily comes. By going too far ami offeri ng LIS too m uch c li;I 'yrn l' l1f , the fa nta s matic re50lution in Dune e1 imina (c.;s fhe i. ka .,1 .1I1111[¡('r place, an al ter nativc possibil ity, more th an any ofl.ylll 1.\ IIdll 1 Irl lIl' I.Vlh:h shows us
88
1111
I M ~OSSIBl[
CAV ID lVNC II
what an impossible compl ete cn joymcnt would look like not so that we might em bark o n a sea rch for it, but so that we might recognizc how ir has already been rea lized. The fin al 3cl in Paul 's fanta sy proyides the kcy to the fi lm: in ord er to compl ete the famasy narratiy e, Paul must return to the social reality rep rescnted by Calada n to find the rain . The dissolve to an imag e of the Ca lacl a n sea from Paul's bluc eye reveals a lu rn back ro the wo rld uf d esi re at the d ecisive mom cnt in the fantasy. The fantas)' of esca pe can onl )' complete itsclfby looping back to what ir esca pes from. Through its con clud ing im age, Dune, L ynch's most overtl)' political fi lm , asks us ro lLnd erstand pol itical revolution-and the fantasy that drives poli tical revolution-in a new way. As the film sho ws, we can transfo rm soci ety in line wi th our fa ntasies, b ut th is transformation will, in me last insta nce, insert us back in the soc ia l rea lity that we haye Aed. There is a speculati ve iden tity between the new society we will create and the old one we w il l have left behind. T his is not to say that polítical change is not worth the effo rt. Dune clea dy takes the side of Paul dnd revolutionary change as opposed to the conserv ariye forces of thc Ha ron and the Ernpe ror. But we must see m e revolu tionary alterna tive not in terms of difference bu t in terms of ident.ity. By d oing so, we effecruate a rcvolu tion thar embri.lce~ rhe necessity of repetition freely rather th an bli ndly su ccumbi ng to it.
tllJN e
89
rea l \Vo rle! , t ha t wh ich we can sC!e 3nd hea r an d to uch; and a subcon SCi OU5, drea m wo rlJ whic h must re m a in hi d d en , so potentiaUy da rk and viole n t a re its wand e rings.'" Lynch foregro un ds the o ppositi on between (hese two d isti oct wo rl ds to such an extent thar d etecu n g it d oesn't e ve n require a sop h isti ca tecl in te rpre tive aet. As L a ura M ul vey r ig htly points
FOU R F aotasizing the F ather in Blue Velvet
out, "the binary o ppos ition be twce n the everyd a y an d the n ethe r w orlds is there fo r all ro see and ro g rasp. "2 D espite th e obvio usness of m e op po siti o n betwee n filmi c w o rld s- the p ubli c rea lity a nd its unde rsid e-the m ost vi sible oppositi o n in Blue VcLvet d oes n ot revol ve a ro und d es ire a nd [aotasy, but bctween two c1 iffe re nt m od es offantasy. The binary o pposirion th at e vc ryon e notices while w a tching Rlue Ve/vet is on e be tween tw o eguall y fan tas m atic world s: a n excessi vely orclina ry pu blic w orld of L umbe rton m a t coexists w ith a simiLHly ex agg e ratecl un der world po pu la ted by Fra nk Booth (Dcnnis Ho pper) a n d hi s associa tes. Acco rcling to Slavo j Z izek , in "the Blue Ve/vN uni ve rse . o. we enco unte r tbe fant asy in its two poies, in its paci fying as pect (t he id yl\ic fa mi ly ti fe) as w ell as in its destructiv e/obsce ne/cxcessive as pect. ,oJ Thro ug h th is o pposi tion , Ly nch develops more full y w ha t we
A Different Kind of Separation?
saw at wor k in [he st ructu re of The E lephont Mallo B ut in Blue Ve/vet,
Ch aste n ed by tbe failur e of D une (1984) a nd h is se n se that he h ad lost
the d iffe re nt aspects of fa utasy eme rge as fu lly developed wo rl cl s ra the r
control of th e film. Ly n ch re tu rned to a sm aller sca \e fo r his next pro j
ma l1 remaio ing, as in Tlle Eiepllant Man , opposing m od es o f su bjective
ect. He vo wed never again to g ive up fin al cut on a p ictu re, and thi s ne
(John Merr ick 's) expe rie nce. A s a result, w e a re able to see their logic io
cessitatcd ma king films for less m one y. B ut one could not imagin e a
a way we cou ld no t in (he earlie r film .
more reso undi ng response to critical a nd popu lar failure th an Blue VeL
T he publ ic wo rl d tha t we see when rbe fi lm opens is not " lhe rea l wo rlcl " b ut a p urely fantasmatic one lhar co rres po nd s pe rfectl y-eve n
vet ( 19 86 ). Ir becam e Lynch's sign at ure fil m : if someon e knows onJy one L ynch fil m , ch a nces are tha r th e fi lm is BLue Ve/veto A fter it ap pea rs, David Lynch beca m c David Lynch-a cine m atic a u te u r. H e e ve n re ceived a noth er Acad em y Awa rd nomin ation for Best D irector. No
blue sky, g low ing red roses next tu a shi ny w hite p ickct fence, an d a
prior o r subsequent fi lm genera ted aS m u c h popular aoc! scholarly in
D almatiéln by his sid e. T h ese images suggest th e k in d of perfec tl y real
te rest or as much criticism (a m ong fe minists fo r the violence towa rd
ized fa n tasy wo rld th a t One n e ver en cou nters in rea li tYo4 O n rh e other
too perfectl y-ro an American id eal. Th e ope ning sh ots show a br ight wav ing fi refi gh te r riding cl own the str eet on a red fir c e ng ine with a
w ome n, among conse rvatives fo r the pe rverse im age o f small-tow n
h a nd , the ho rr ific und erside o f m is public fa ntasy is equall y extreme.
A meri ca, a nd among Nlarxists for the seemin g nostalgi a for the 1950s) .
F r a n k Booth a nd his ga ng rev el in their perve rsi ry and total disrega rd
The interest almost inev ita bly focused on the conspicuous division be
for the public law. Mere exposure ro the m endangers me life o f Jeffr ey Bea umo nt (Ky le M acLachla n) :m d rc su l(~ in a severe bca ting . If the
twee n tw o o pposing wo rle!s rha t Lynch creates in the film . F ollow ing Eraserh~ad ( 1977), The Elephant Man (1980), andDune, the
public w o rld o f BÜte Velvet rep resents ~tn A m er ican ideal, ilS uJl d e rside
split between the public soc ial reaJi ty a nel it ~ b n l;\s Il1:11ir lllld crsicle seem s
r eprcscnts an A m erican nig htm ¡l rl:. \-V hal di still,l!;u ish t:s BLue Ve/vet
eve n more p ro nou nccd in B/ue VdVt·f . j\ lt IIml
1'\ l.'fy
n oticcs lh at it de picts "¡w n sc paral e w" rld~' tll ll l
Vil'\vc'r of rhe film
WI. I
' 1It" I ll'nuo:
JS
''the
f rorn th e lypicil l A m e rican fa ntas y is Ihe ('1'1(' 111 ," whir h i1 h ~)ld s these twa w lllt d, "11.111
11 11/1' VflVf 1 ',H l
."
Beca use Blue Velvet depicts two competing [a11 l:l SY wo rlds, it con sta ndy violates narra ci ve logic in ways that are possiblc onl y w ith in the structure of fantasy and in ways that reAect I he SI ruggle between the twO fantasy worlds. Or, as C. Kenneth Pcllow pues ir, "Over and ove r again, Lynch commits blun de rs (both in his seript ¡lnd in h is directio n) in the are.as of sequen ce , causation, and consiste ncy."5 Pellow's scathing criti cisms of the film have the ironic cfrect of d erailing precisely how Lynch 's film e m ploys fa ntasy. F or in stance, according to Pello w , the setting for the film, Lumberton, "is a small town w hen that's co nv e nient to his them e, and il is a b ig city whcn that se r ves his need."6 This ability of Lumberton to be at once a sma ll to w n and a big ci ty indicates not the failure of Lynch's filmmaking abili ty but the fac t tbat he has sit uated us on the terrain of two opposed fa ntas)' structures: in the idea l fantasy, Lumbe rto n is a sm all town , but in the nig htmare fantasy, it's a big city. lt has th e quaintncss of the small town an d the problcms of a big city (d rug deal ing, m u rder, etc.). Each of the "vacillations in na rra tiv e logic" tha t we might derect in the film- an d the re are m any-point LIS in this direction . By p resen ting LIS with these two opposed fa ntas y world s, Lynch lays bare how fantas y necessa rily work s. Fan tasy always fu nctio ns in these twO m od es, one com fo rting a nd the other disconcert ing. As Sla vo j Z ize k notes, the notion of fantasy offers a n exempla ry case of the dialectical Cu incidentia oppositol'um: on the one hand , fan tasy in its beatific side, in its stabilizing dim ensíon, the dream of a state w ithout distur bances, out of reach of hum an deprav ity; on the other ha nd, fa ntas y in ¡ts destabilizing dimension, w hose e1ementary form is envy-all th at "irritates" me about the O the r, images that haunt me of what he or she is doing whcn out of my sight, of how he or she deceiv es me and plots against me, ofhow he or she ignores me and indulges in an enj oyment th at is intensive beyond my capacity of represen ta tíon, anJ so on and so forth ,7 These two modes of fan tasy have an interconnected rela tionship, as we sa w in th e case of The Elephant Man . But Blue Velvet furth er shows us w hy we cannot sim ply conten t ou n;e\ ves w irl! tlll' \ Llhili 'l.ing fan tasy: it fail s to provide rhe stability tha r it prnllll .. n, .\IId IIl i.. I.li llm: ofstabili ty gives rise ro the destahiliz ing or lIi g ltllll .11 í~ 11 l i lll'" ~Y Ib.1! provides a n
Y1
THf I MPOSS l n l r
O AVl 11 I VI'l c.:1!
explallation for thi s failu re. Though the stabili zing fanta sy fails in he r entl y, on its ow n term s, the existenee of the nig htmare fantasy enables us to resc ue the stabili z ing fantasy and explain its fai lure w ith reference to a n exte rnal rathe r than an in le rnal cause. It is in this sensc that the fantas)' of rhe ideal depends on its un derside. Thi s inte rd ependence of the two m odes of fantasy causes us to expe ri ence them at the sam e time and in an inte rrelated way. In thi s sense, the di vision of the two opposed m odes of fa ntasy in Btue Veh'et sepa rates what we ex per ience together. Just as we n ormally ex perience de sire and fantas)' in a11 inte rrel ated way, we also cxpe ri ence the two modes of fantasizing-the famas)' of the id eal and the nig htmare simultan eously. That is to say, w h en w e fa ntasize about our ideal, we fantasize sim ul taneously about the threats that imperil that ideal. If, for example, we e nrertain a nostalgi c fantasy abo u t small-town America, we al so fantasize the imm inent d estruction of thi s id eal duc ro the rise of the Iarge city. [n our ty pical expe rience of fanta sy, the nig htmare ex ists within the sa mc narrati ve structure as the ideal. Even cinematÍe fa ntasies te nd to affinn this marriage of che two modes. A romantic comedy th at strives to show a fantasy of an id eal ro m antie un ion always rehearse s m e threats ro tha r union. And a horro r film m ar delves into a nightma ri sh fantasy stages this nightmare against the backgroun d of the iJea l that ir threatens. T bis is w ha t gives Blue Velvet íts in itial d istinctivencss as a fi lm . By sepa raring the two m odes of fa n tasy, Lyneh allows us to see their simila rity. lron ically, w hen the idea l and the nig h tmare function together, we cannot see the u nderly illg sim ilarity thar bi nds rhem together; their very in te racti on has the effcc t of making them see m comp le tcl y d iffe rent. Bu t in the act of sepa ra tin g a nd oppos ing th em , Blue Ve/ve! rend ers visible thi s simil a ri ty be tween rhe ideal a nd the n ightmare that fa ntasies usually obscure .8 Despite the obv iousn ess of the oppositi on betwee n rhe ideal world a nd the nightmare world , as is also tr ue of The Elephant Man , this op position is not the m ost impo rtan t one that Lynch co nstruets in t he film. le also creates an opposítion be twee n a w orl d of desire a nJ a wo rld of fa n tasy. Between the two eompeting fa nta sy st ructures, Lyn ch inse rts a spacc of desi re and loca tes this space in a nd surrnund ing the apa rtm ent of Do ro rh y Vallens (Isabell a Rossel li ni ). Thc fundamental di vide in the film is t h ll ~ 111'1, , I ~ is oftc n tho ugh t. hl' l w~'t' n t\¡~· p rorc r public wo rl d ami i h l l lllltll.d Iflldl·[,idc: rhey are IWfI ~idl'\ IIl l h(' S.II II( lll in. \V hat is
radicall y differcnt is th e space of desirc centered around D orothy's apartm ent. The div ide betwee n fantasy and desire in Blue Velvet is at once a di vide between masculi nity and fc mininity. That i~, the film opposes mascul ine fan tasy to feminine desire. In this rela tionship, feminine de sire is a des ire that no ob ject can satisfy, a voie! that threatens to over whel m both the desir ing subject herself and the men who become caught w ithin her desi re. Masculine faOlasy provides respite insafar as it imagin es a scenario in which th is desire has an identifiable ohject. The fi lm depic ts the strugg le between these two positions, and in the process it reveals the inabi lity offaOlasy to tame completely the disrup tion of desi re. Most femini st criticisms of the film focus on the seemingly complete male dominance that it d epicts. F or instance, Jane Shattuc claims, "As opposed to H itchcock's melodramas, wh ich often ceOler on a ,""oman, Blue Velvet is a man's world; it trades on wom en as passive objects of male voye uristic gazes and sadi stic impulses."9 This interpretation ac cepts tb e COmpellng ran tasies as the sole film ic rcal ity. Though the ideal and the nightmare faOlasy a ppear to dominate the film (and beco m e lhe foClls of mos{ inter preta üons), D oroth y in fact occupies the central posi ti on. And sbe is nm simply central as the object ove r which m en fight. She desircs, and rhc men ~ue left in t he position of reacting ro this de .. ir~', lI\,:vcr an ing ind cpendently.
Unleoshed Desire The ir.kalized fan t:lsy wo rld t hat opens the film lasts for less than two minutes. Afte r a seri es ofbright faOlasmatic images including roses in front of a whitc pi cket fe nce, a fireman wav ing from a passing engine, and a crossing guard helping chi ldren across the street, Lynch dericts Jeffrey 's father Tom BeaUIDont (Jack H arvey) wa tering the lawn. The image of the father figure watering the lawn is not simply one in the se ries of idealized images but the key one. The father holds rogether and anchors m e other idealized images. The father w ho collapscs in this scene is nOl a figure of pro hibitian, a paternal authority ba rring sub jec ts access tll e n jny lTI~· 1I1. 1 re is a good fath er w ho enables raÚler than rcslri CI\ Ihr ~ 11 [, in 1\ ( '11 jn)'rncnt; he cre ates a stablc rclationship to t1H' ill lpm~dll,.
94
1'I1r , MPOSSIB t f OAV I O I VNC II
",1\ d, fin I nhlcct. Wb ar's
more, he acts as the support for the enti re fa ntasy structure ev ,inced by the brigh l and cheery montage th at opcns the film. Because he plays the crucial role in the idea l fanrasy, his colia pse necessa rily appcars as a dev asta ting eve nt. Fredric Jam eson clai ms that the film treats Tom Beau m on t's stroke as "an incomprehens ibl e catastrophe-an act of God w hich is peculiarly an Jct of scandalous vi olence within this perfect Am erican small tOWII ." '" The nonsensical, trauma tic status of thi s event stcm s from the idealized father's role in the fantasy. \Vithout him, the fantasy loses its a ppearance of sea mlessness. Immed ia tely after Tom Bea umo nt's coLlapse , the tone ofthe film un dergocs a dram atic change. As he lies on the ground, hi s hand coOlin ues to hold the ga rden hose, and we see slow-motion shots of the pet dog repeatedl y ~n apping at the jetting stream of water. The subsequent trave!ing shot at rhe leve! of rh e grass rc vea ls the violent and acti ve in sen Jife that lies beneatJl lhe surface of the la w n, as the audio track turns louder aod mo re voracious. T he seq uence of shots here-as is al most al ways ch e C:lse in Blue Velvet-ill ustrates the rela tionship be lwee n the ideal izcd Worl d of L Ulnberton and its obseene und erside rep resented by tbe in sects. Tom Bcau monr )~ collapse from a stroke creates an open ing between the idea li zed world and its undersi de w here Frank Boo th dom inares. Whercas lhe stabJ c fathe r fig ure keeps this underside hi ddcn, his frai lty renders ir aecessible. Bu t d espite the foc us of most spectators an d cri ties. w hat is most importan t is not th is underside but the opcning lO it. T he sequencc of seenes tbat foIlo w ~dso indicare the rel ationship be twecn paternal insuffic ie ncy ano the emergcnce of an opening ro an other world. After t his unnerv ing stan, we see Jeffrey wa lking to the hospital ro visit h is fath er. He walks th ro ugh nn abandoneu lot and pi cks up a few rocks tO throw. This scen e is im portant only insofar as it sets up the nex t tW(). Jeffrey sees hi s fathe r in the hospital, and we see a look of horror on his fa ce as he observes hi s father 's d ebilitated co ndi lion, After the scene al rhe hos pital, Jeffrey again walks rhrough the same lot ane! again picks up a few rocks to th mw. Th is time, however, while searc hing for rocks, he finds a detachcd hu ma n ear. The ract that the hospital scene inkr\ent:!> betwee n the tw o scenes at the abandoned IOl suggests a causal rda l iOIl~hi p hctwedl Jeffrey's cxpe rience ~It thl' hospital and wha t he find s dllring Iht ~c:c on d sccoe a t the loto Tlll' ; d '~llIn .. 1 r11( ra rhcr wilh in ti \!' fa lll :I'>Y ~I f\!l' ll lrl' a lll)w ~ fi)r rhe
1111 Vrt 'In
Q'j
intrüduction of desire. 11 View i.ng the incapacity of the father allows Jef
Prestan notes, tunnel imagery domi nares the film , but it becomes espe
frey to see the ear, w hich m a rks an opening within the fantas)' world üf Lumberton. As Lynch himself points out, the spccific hüdy part that
ciall y prevalent as th e film 's na rra tive ap proac hes and enters Do roth y
Jcffrcy finds is not simply a contingent element in the scene. He says, "It hao to be an ear hccause it's an opening. An ear is wide and, as it nar
Vallens's apartment. She says, "The inte rio r of the clecaying apa rtm ent bl,l ilding on Lincoln Street in whicb the victim protagonist, Dorothy Vallens, lives is th e m os¡- significant tunnel image. It . .. ¡Iluminates the
rows, you can go dO\vn into it. A nd it goes somewhe re vasl." i2 The opening that. the ear provides in the fi lm is the opening of desire itself.
lheme of initiation i.nto k110wledgc w h ich cohe res much of the film's imagery."13 T hough P reston correcdy sees D oroth y's apartment as the
It represents a gap in the fantasy structure that allows the desire üfboth
cul mina tion of the film 's tunnel image ry, a site w here openness and
Jeffrey and the spcctator to emerge. In addition to thc opening inherent in the very form of an ear,
ga ps exi st throughou l me filmic space, ir does, in itsel f, provide no knowledge for Jeffrey. In fact, Doroth y's a panm ent marks a point of Jeffrey's non-k no wledge, a ncl th is is w h;lt nas the effect of stimulating his dcsire.
Lynch associates this particular ear with castration and thus with the emergence of desire. Sümeone has used scissors to cut the ear off the head of:l person, and when thc medical examiner pronounces the \vord "scissors," Lynch cuts back to the abandoned lot where we see a
The non- k no wled ge, or im possibili ty of m eani ng , is epirümi zed by the mi se-en-sc~nc of Doroth y's a partment afld the surrounding area.
dose-up of scissors cutting the police ta pe. This filmic emphasis on the act of clltting [urther links the ear to the eme rge nce of dcsire. The cut
Whe reas Ly nch depicts both th e Lumbe rton public world a nd the un derworl d as colorful and full, Do rothy's apartm ent is a world of em pty
of castration-or the castration threat-gi ves bir th to desirc by separat ing the subject from its priv ilcged object. It has nothing to do w itb anatomy but with the subjection of the subject to the exigencies of the
spaces and d a rk voids, a world bereft of the fllllness that fantasy adds .
social law. The ea r thus acts as a th reat to Jeffrey, a warning about the da ngers of too much en joyrn cnt (w hich De tective W illiams [Geo rge Dickerson] repeats to Jeffrey), but at the same time it incites his desire hecause of the opening th;lt it creates.
When Jeffre y en tCrs Do rothy's a pa rtment usi ng a stolen key, Lynch shoots the scene wi rh very link lig h t. lnitially, rhe screen goes corn ple tcly black as Jeffrey cnters, a nd then we see Jeffrey walking aro u.nd in t he apartment in near-tota l da rk ness. Even after Do rorn y re tu rns hom e and tu rns 00 the apa rtme n t ¡¡g hts, the lig hting in the scene re mains dim , leaving cl a rk spaces witbin ¡he mise-en-scene. Just befare
After Jeffrey's discove ry ofthe detached ear, the film 's for m under goes transformation. Though the fantasy world of Lumbenon re ma ins, it loses its per fect coherence a no poc kets ()f desi re becüme ev ide nt
she discovers Je ffrey hiding in her dosel, D ororny moves into one of these cla rk spaces: we know she is in rhe a pa rlment, but she appears to be in (h e m id d le of a void .J4 T hi s type o [ lighring sl,lggests a world of
w itbin this wor/d . The evening of his discovery, we see leffrey wa lking in the dark to visit Detective W illiams, an d rhen Lynch cuts to a dose up of the ear in w hi ch th e camera moves r.o ward a nd appa rentl y into
desi re w he re nüthing can be known. Even th e ex termll shots of the apar tment hig hlight our lac k (lf k now lcdge about it thro ugh the use of
th e ear. The camera movem ent here indicates that Jeffrey h imself is plunging into the openness of desire. When Jeffrey lea ves D etective Williams's house, Sandy (L aura Dern) confronts h im, ancl it seem s as if
lig h ting , We lea ro tha r D oroth y lives on the sev enth Aoo r, and yel in the firs t ex terna l shot o f th e apa rtm ent, t he apartment appea rs to havc o nly th ree Aoors. We see th e first thrce Aoo rs and nothing but darkness
she emerges out of a voie! of compl ete blacknes$ in th e micldle of the image. This is another of the openings tha t begin to populatc the fan
above th em. The ligh tin g produces an apartmem that is present as a visible absence. Ly nch constr ucts a rigid barrie r be tween the wo rld of desire w ithi n
tasy wor/d of Lu m berton after the colbpse /11' 1he fll!llt'r Figure at the beginning of m e fi lm. As they begi n lo '¡i ~L \I ~' d lc II ly~tc r y \)( rhe ea r amI of Doroth y Vallens, Jeffrcy :lnd S .III d y \\' dI: dil\\ 11 . \ ,1 I n: l' tha l has
Doroth y's apartm ent and m e fantasy wo rl Js ou tside. One cannot easil y access th is a pa nment: since the elevalOr is nU l (lf o rd e r, it requ ires tra ve rsj ng WH' II ll ight sofst:1 irs. Lync h f l,l rt her il1 di cali:~ 1he ti ¡fferent worl d
th e appea ra ncc of a tul1llc1 or ;ln
91>
TH~
I M POSS IOll
DA VID I VNC II
" p t'l lI lIr 111 .11111 1 1.ldt. 1
,dlllr. A ~ Jan et
of ,ht· ¡Ipanl l l' 111 h" l¡, lIlgi ng che
sClllnd \VIII' II kn , ~,y ;t pp roach cs ir-
I;L ll t
v/l vrr
VI
sometimes cven eliminating nondiegetic sound allogelher. W ithio the diegesis, a simila r sou nd ba rrier ex ists: D oroth y catches Jeffrey in her doset because a ftushing toilet prevents him from hea ring Sandy honk the car horn four times to warn him . Though it seems as if a contingent event-the toilet ftushing-block s the passage of the sound, it foltows necessarily from the barrier that Lynch establishes in the film . Dorothy's apartment is an isolated space in w hich fanta sy breaks down and ceases to provide the explanations that g iv e the world its coherence. Blue Velvet reverses the trajectory, moving from a world of desire to a world offantasy that Lynch employs in his ti rsr three films . Here, the film initialty imm erses the spectator in rhe fantasy and subscquently depicts a space of desire w ithin the fantasy world. This reversal of trajectüry-w hich L ynch would repeat in Mulholland Drlve (2001) iltustrates that the relationship between desire and fantasy is dialectical rather than temporal . Eve n though fantasy attempts to solve the prob lem of desirc, this solution emerges simultancousl y with the problem, not afterward. Neither desire's question nor fantasy's answer has a tem poral priority, wh ich is why L yoch can begin Blue Velvet w ith a worle! of fantasy and later thrust the spectator into a world of desire w heo he introduces Dorothy's apartment. To 5ay that the one site in Blue Velvet w here fantasy ccases to operate is Dorothy's apartmeot seems counterintu itive. If a critical consensus exists about any aspect of the fil m, it coocerns the fantasm atic nature of th e scene in w h ich Jeffrey observes F mnk's sexual assault on Doro thy. Michcl C hion poines out that " the k ind of fantasy on di splay" here is ooe that reenacts "the surrealisti c sex ual theories of child ren ." '5 Echoing Chion, Betsy Berry is one of many critics w ho specifies this as "the primal scene," which is "both man's and child 's most terrifying scenario: the vision of violent coupling between one's parents.", 6 Sam Ishii-G onzales goes even further, noting, This episode not on\y spectacularly cvokes the primal scene, it also conjures up the two other fantasy scenarios identified by Freud as the primal fantasies-namel y, the fantasy of seduction and the fan tasy of castration. T hese fantasies are not ime rchangcable, but they often become intcrrelated or co-existt: 111 [n r rhe inq uisiti ve sub ject. This is something; Rlue Ve/vd ll1 ah~ d ralll.1l n .dly , k a!. W ithin the confi nes of D orotby\ livill~ Sl'alT, 1111 rt'V li, ,lIlIlI tl lI l ¡, ronfrontcd
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with each of the primal fan tas ics in all thcir enigm atic force; not in strict succession, but in continuou s ftuc tuation. ' 7 Th c problem with this otherwise exem pla ry anaJysis of this scene-and the others that see fa ntasy at wo rk he re-is that it w roogly idcoti fie s the attempt to coostruct a fantas)' scenario with the successful elabora tion of ooe. W ithin D orothy's apartment, both le ffrey and Frank Booth con front her desire, and cach fails , despite their efforts, to fantasi ze a way of making that desirc meaningful. The fil m ceoters around Dorothy's desire and her status as a desiring subject; the responses to thi s d esire remain seconda ry and after the fact. Throughou t Blue Ve/vet, it is com pletel y undear \-"hat Dorothy desires, or if she desires anything at all. As Jeffrey tells Sandy after his encou nter w ith Dorothy's desire, she seem s to desire nothing. H e says, " 1 think she wants to die. I think F raok cut the ear 1 found off her husband as a warning for her to stay ali ve." As Lyoch depicts it in the fi lm, Dorothy's d esire is apure desire: it desi res noth iog, and it re fuses ro satis fy itself with any pathological object. T oe ve ry p urity of Do rothy's desire-her unwi llingness lO ac cept an y fantasm atic suhstitutes, her refusal of ever), satisfaction- rnay lead us to thi n k that she has no des ire at al!. BUI p ure desi re is in sorne se nse equiva lent to the com plete absence of desire. In both cases, th e subject experiences every possihle object as in herently u nsatisfying. As the em bod ime nt of dcsire, D o roth y draws m en to her. T hey want to d iscove r lhe secret ofhcr desire, wha t it is that she w an ts, and the fact that she wa ots nothing, tha t nothing can satisfy her, com pels them all the more. At the samc time, soe rh reatens the men th at pursue her be cause she reveals the void upon w hich all subjectiv ity is based. As ]acques-Alain Mi ller notes, bccau se of her relatiooship to nothingness, HA true woma n .. . reveals to m an the absurdity ofhaving. To a certain extent, she is man's ruination.", R This rui nation becomes eviJen t in Jeffrey's response to Dorothy. W hen Doroth y discovers ]effrey in her doset and con fronts him, she tinds hjm in a state of desi re. She as ks , "What are you doing in my apartment, ¡effrey Beaumont ?" and "Whal do you wélnt?" Bu t ]effrey i~ u nable to answe r, saying onl y, "1 don't know." Late r, after F rank's sexua l aSS
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cates that at chis moment-w hile he is in Dorothy's apartment Jeffrey's desire lacks a fantasy frame through w hich it might ohtain some direction. T o say "1 don't know" or "N othing" in response to the q uestion "What do you wan t ?" is not (necessariJy) to lie or to procbim thar one does not d esire at aH. It is ra ther the way in which one asserts oncself as a dcsiring subject in the purcst pos sihle formo The desiring su bject doesn't know what it wants beca use iL wants nothing-the im possible objcct that cxis ts on ly insofar as it remains inaccessible. This is why the anorex ic who literaH y eats the nothi ng is in sorne sense the pure subject of d esire. The subject who can na m e what it wants has ac ccpted a fan ta smatic substitutc for thi s n othing. At this moment in the film, Je ffrey experiences desire w ithout the surrounding narrativc that would dumesticate it, and he occupies this position beca use he encoun ters Oorothy and her desire. And rather than ex perience desire in this way without rh e s<.'c urity of a fantasy frame, he asks Dorothy to a\low him to lea ve. The absence of any c1ear direction for Oorothy's Jesire becurnes ap pa rent in her behavio r towa rd Jeffre y. E ven Ourothy hersclf has no id ea wha t sh e wa nts, anJ as a result, she d oes con tradictory things. She holds a knife on Je ffrey a nd thrcatens to kiH him, and yet she forces him to undrcss and performs fella tio on him. She says to hirn, "Oo n't touch m e, o r 1'11 ki li yuu. D o you like it w hen 1 ta1 k 1ike thar? " T hrou ghou t this and a later sexual encounter with Jc ffrey, O oroth y see ms to be performing--often acti ng like F rank acts towa rd hcr. She performs bccause she doesn 't know what she WJms, and t he performance lea ves upen the question of wh at Dorothy actu aJly desires. Ont m ight sa y, of course, th at O orothy's perfo rmance with Jeffrey occurs in respon se lO F rank's a buse, that she plays the typical rol e ofthe vic tim acting out the vi olence that has been done ro her. Bu t such a reading te1ls us m ore about the subject who p rod uces it than about D orothy. It posits suprem e agency in male agg ression rather than in fe m a1e desi re, ~ h ich leaves ir unab1e to exp1 ain Frank's behavior toward O orothy. Something a bout Doro thy c1early distu rhs Fra n k, which is why he goes to such elaborate leng ths to perform in front of her. F rom the momenl F rank e nters Do roth y's apa rtment, he appears to be staging a fH n tasm ati c scena rio, actin~ 0111 ;¡ d r~tt n<1 f~ I r w hich the onl y audience (lO b is kn owlcdgc) is Do ro! hy 111 r\! 11 1·. t1'l'h ; ,~i z in g lhe pe r formati ve aspccl nI' Fran k \ \)(' 11.1 \ \1" , r..t'idll '¡ ( 1111111 "'Il tcn ds tha t 11111
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"F rank behaves as if he were the :lctor in a show designecJ to move the wo man sexuaJl y. His way of repea ting certain se ntences may be .che out pourings of a rnaniac, bm m ight ir nor also be che mechanica1 repetition of a panicular sen rence d esignecJ lO excite her ?"19 Even if Frank does nor aim to excite her in a typi cal way, he does c1 early aim to arouse her an d ro give a directio n to her desire. By doing so, he hopes to avoid what M il ler calls the ruination thar she portends for him as a male sub ject. As Ch ion says, F ran k attempts to prevent Dorotny "fmm becom ing depressed a nd slipping into the void ... by bca ting he r, kiclnapping her chil cJ and husba nd anJ then cutting off the man's ear." 20 In this 1ight, we can see all of F rank 's extreme behavi or in the film as an effort to dom esticate the d esire t har Dorothy embodi es. W hil e he remHins within Dorothy 's apa rtment, howev er, Frank's at tem pt to translate Oo roth y's desire into his fantasy structure comes up short. C learly, Frank domina res Do ro thy physically, hut he never sol ves the problem o fher desire or succeeJ s in locating her w ithin his fantasy ~ cc n a rio. From her nrst telephone con ve rsatio n with him, Oorothy continuall y fa ils ro enact the fanlasy p roperl y; her d esire intervenes and dis ru pts the na rra ti ve that Frank attempts ro cstablish. On the tel e phon e, shc c:tlls h irn " F rHnk," and F ra nk cor rects her, saying that she mustadd ress h im as "sir." When FrH nk arri ves at the apa rt ment, D oro thy makcs a sim ila r m ista ke. She says, "Hel io, baby." Frank responcJs, "ShUl up. Ir's dadcly, you shi thcHeI. " T hese slip-ups reveaJ Do rothy's d iffi cu lty w ith rhe famasy structure th at F rank lays out fo r her. She can 't perform hc r role correctly beca use F ra nk 's fantasy c.an't success fu lly loca te her desire. She rema ins a disr upti vc force that he striv es to domestica te. The status of Dorothy's dcsi re completd y change s when she lea ves be r apartment ami appears in the fa ntasm aric underworld that Frank domi nates. Her dcsi rc becornes cl ea r: she wa nts to care for her son, to be a proper mothe r. Ma te rni ty, as a sym bolic role, represents a retreat from desire beca use it fill s in thi s desire's fundamental absence with a discernible objecl. As Mi lle r paints ou t, "The truth in a woman, in Lacan 's sense, is rneasurcd by her subjective d istance from the position of mothcrhood . Tu be a mocher, lhe mother of one's children, is to choosc to ex isr as Woman ."'I T hat is to say, tak ing up the symholic po silion of mother represents an aban d onmc nt o f one ':; desire. ~Then OOfl")thy evinces maternal co nce rn for hc r son, she indicates that shc
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has left the terrain of pu re des ire anJ entered the "vnrld of fant ;1s)'. As a mother, she is on male turf: the image of me maternal plenitud e is a m ale fantas)'. By kidnapping her son and prompting Dorothy into the position of rhe protective mother, F rank creates a fantasy sccna rio in which Dorothy's destre ceases to be trauma tic for him. 22
Fantasmatic Fathers What m e iJealized public worl J of the film and its nightm arish unJer side share is a father figure that provides support for th e fanrasy struc turcoThe coherence ofthis structure depends on the activity of the father, which is why the collapse ofTom Beau mont at the beginning of the film has such dramatic effects. Within fan tas )', the father exists in orJer to do mesticate feminine desire and provide a Jirection for it. He na mes this desire and thus works ro eliminate its resistance ro signification. In rhis sensc, F rank's violence is an attempt ro arouse D orothy's desire-ro motivate her to desire something rather than nothing. Like Jeffrey and like the spectator, Fra nk experiences th e tra uma of an en counter w ith Dorothy's gaze an d m e horror of her desire, and he uses violence in ord er to provide a solution to this trauma tic desire. This is why the spec ta tor can fin d sorne degree of pleasure in the cha racter of Frank , despite his disturbing violencc. Frank is a fantasy figure and of fers relicf from Dorothy's ck sire through the fan tasy scena rio that he stages for her. Even his sexual assau lt on her-the fil m's most fam ous sccne-wor ks to mitigate the trauma of Dorothy's desire by g iving it direction and forcing ber ro m ake d ear wha t she wa nts. After witnessing F ran k's assault on Dorothy, Jeffrey rcturns ro Do r omy's apartment on a later nigh t an d has sex with her. Ly nch film s m is sex act in a way that indicates its traum atic status. Before they have sex, he asks her, "What do you want? " She replies, "I wa nt you to hurt me." Though Jeffrey initiall y refuscs, telling Do rothy, "No. 1 want ro hel p you," he ends up striking her. Wh en he does, the scree n turns white. After the white screen, we see a d istorted shot of Jeffrey and Dorothy ha ving sex in slow motion. This depiction of their sexual act registe rs how disturbing D orothy's des ire is for Jeffrcy. It not onl y d isturbs Jef frey ano pushes h im into uncharactc ristic vioknn', hll t il :lIso disr upts the filmic representation itsel f. Ly nch can ll'" lilll\ Ihi, ~( 1'Il\: in the typi cal way beca use ir unhingcs the ¡-¡eld ,,1 1' ¡I " "1 I\llt lllll il \d C. Do roth y's
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des ire for nothing res ists all <1t tempts--bnth Jeffrey 's and the film 's-to signify ilo Ir produces the failurc implicit in Jcffrey's violcnce and the failure of represen tation cmbod ied by the wh ite screen. Seeing the traum a attacheo to Jeffrey's encounter with Dorothy's de sire in this scene allows l15 to understand rhe role rhat Jeffrey's subsc quen t joy rid e with Frank pla ys in h is psychic ecol1omy. Jeffrey runs into Frank and his gang as he i5 leaving Dorothy's apartm ent, and F rank forces ]cffrey ro acco mpany them on a joyride that almost results in Jeffrey's death . Frank ex poses Jeffrey to a viol ent and sa d isric under world in which P ran k is the sole fig ure of authority. W hen Jeffrey de hes this authority and pu nches Frank (for hitting Dorothy) , Fra nk rhreaten s to kill h im and nearly beats him to dcath . D uring this beat ing, a bond between Fra nk and Jeffrey emerges. Ea rlier, Frank teUs Jeffrey, "You're like me," and befo re beating him, F ran k srn ea rs lip stick al! arouncl his lips and ki sses Jeffrey. T he bond berween them is the ie sharcd retrea r fr om Dorothy's desire. E ven though his nigh t wi th Frank nearly leads ro his death, it actual ly provicles reli ef foc ¡effrey af te r hi s encounter with Dorolhy's desi re. T he ch rooology of the fil m :tI m Ost seems to suggcst that Ieffrey fantasizes th e encou nter w ith Fran.k and the abuse that results in ord er tu find respite from Dorothy. Far better to be beatcn by Frank rh an to face the trauma of Dorothy's un sign ifiable desire. Even if F ran k ho rr ifies us as spectators, he nonethe less provides a horror that m akes sense. The bond between Jeffrey and F rank is a homosocial one, and th e fil m sugge:sts th at this powerfu l bond devd ops in response to rhe trauma of female des ire. T he viole nt nature of hom osoc ial bon d ing- the fr a ternity haz ing rituals, the h um iliati on of outside rs, and so on-docs not d erive simply from an excess of tcstoste rone. This violence has a clear l1leaning: it ass ures th e subj ecrs pa rticipating in it tha t a powe r ex ists with the abil ity to conta in the desire for nothing (the desire rhat we see in Dorothy). T he abyss of this des ire th reatens to swal!ow men up, but homosocial violence implic itly promises to control it. Even th e victims of homosocial violence gain th is assurancc, which is why they are ofi:en as attached to masculi nity as the most aggressive meno Frank also prov idcs relicf for Jeffrey ¡nsofa r as he occu pies the posi tioo of paternal aurhority. Unlike lhe oth er farh ers in th e film . F rank, desp ite his secm ing comrnitm ent to unres lrain ed enj OYOlC nt, u pholJs proh ibition and supports the symb()l ic law. Th i~ lX'com cs cv ide nt du r
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ing the joyride sequence when F rank stops at Ben's to discuss his drug dealings and a110w Dorothy to see her son . Hcre, despite loud ly pro claiming "1'11 fuck anything that moves," Frank also enforces codes of civility. When Frank toasts Ben (Dean Stockwel l), Jeffrey doesn't 5ay anything. We then see Frank walk aver to }cffrey, punch him in the midsection, and sa y, " Be politel " Though this command appears wildly incongruous in the mouth ofFrank given what we have just secn him do, it fas with the idea of him as a figure of paternal authority. And as the sole effective paternal figu re in the film, his presencc offers assur ance to Jeffrey that Dorothy can be contained. Frank equally reassures the spectator watching lhe film . Even though he is clearly an evil character (a ki11er, a drug dealer, a sexual preclatar, a kidnapper, even a drunk dri ver), F rank remains a thor oughly pacifying figure on the screen. Dennis H opper's performance as Frank accentuatcs his hu morous qualities even when perpetuating vio lence. For instan ce, when he kid naps Jeffrey and forces him to go to Ben's, he does so through wo rdplay reminiscent of Abbott and Costel 10'5 "Who's on first?" routine. Lynch also uses music to diffuse ra ther than enbance th e threat that Fra nk rcpresents. Typicall y, film s associate vi11ains with ha unting music. The song we associate wirh F rank-and that plays as he beats up Jeffrey the night of the joyride-is Roy O rbi son's "In Dream s," a song that defies an association with vi llain y. F rank attcmpts to disto rt the mea ning of the song: we see h im in a close-u p telli ng Jeffrey, "in dreams, you' re mine," implying th at he will haunt Jeffrey like a nightm are. But the ve ry soft and mcl odious nat ure of the Orbison song be1 ies this threat ancl , along w ith the lipstick sm earecl on Frank's face, renders it lcss intim idating. Lynch's de picti on of Fra nk the night of the joy ride and throug hout the film em phasizes that he 23
functions as a figure of psychic relief rather th an t rau ma. Jeffrey's fl ashbacks the next morning confirm that Dorothy repre sents the real trauma for him. not Frank . Rather than dreaming about his horrific beating at Frank's hands and his near death , Jeffrey remains fixated on Dorotb)', seein g her in a fla shback sa)'ing "Hi t m e" and see ing himself hit her in response. Dorothy is a trauma tic obj ect-cause of desire precise!y because no one can fantasi ze away he r J esire and she seems to desire nothing. Tt is against this ba ckgT()\lnd oC Dnroth y's de si re for nothi ng-or th e noth ingness of Dllrll ' h ~ -., dl',in' ,h:l t the dc sirefo}" her emerges. As an im po~sihk IIhl' ~ t, II 1 Ol'lt'l p l'lil (1, Du rothy
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represents a far greater threat to Jdfrey than the father figure. Frank can merely kill him, but Doroth y can forc e him to confronr his desire. Both the idea l father and the ni gh tm are fa the r are fantasy construc tions wh o work to ta me the im possible objcct-cause of clesirc. Even though these paternal figures do violence to the subject ancl represent a barrier to the subject's enjo)'ment, th ey nonetheJess provide a sen se of re li ef. W ithou t the father, the fantasizing su bjeet experiences the unbear able wcight of the impossible object intrude into its fa n tasy screen, caus ing the very structure of the fa ntas)' to disintegrate. This is precisel)' what occurs when Dorothy enters the ideali zed fantasy world-a world where the father has become incapacita ted- near the end of the film.
Fa ntasy and t he Trau matic Encounter
T he function of fantas)' is to rend er the imposs ible object accessiblc for the subject. In doing so, fanta sy provides a way for the subject to enjoy itse lf that would be u nthi nka ble outside of fantasy. H o wever, rhe act of mak ing the impossible objcct accessible for the subj ect involves a dan ge r. This obj ect remains pleasu rable only jnsofar as it rem ains absem and impossibl e. An actual enco unter dislocates th e entire sym bolic strucrure in w hich th e subj ect ex ists. T hu s, most fa ntasies are very ca re fu I abo ut the kind of access they offer to the impossible obj ect. F antasies di sta n the obj ect by never all owing il to appear in a pure fo r m oWe see an im age ma sk ing the obj ect, not the obj ect itsel f. O r we see this object indirectly-as ir d isappears or moves away. The d istor tion of the obj ect in the fantasy is the resu ll of a failure to play out futi)' the logic of fantasy. When full)' dcve1 oped , th e log ic of fantasy leads to an cncounter with the object in its real, traumatic dimensi on, but most fan tasics neve r go this far. T hc separation of lhe worlds of clcsire and fa ntasy in BIt/e Ve/ve! allo ws Lynch to avoid this failure that plagues most films. The film displays the fantasy in its entirety, and thus we ex per ience a direct encounter with the im possible object. 24 T he ideologicaJ function of cinem a depencls on tbe limited access it provides to this obj ect. Fi lms provide a hint of en joyrnent rh rough the fantasy scenarios tbey d eploy, but not too much oT hey remain pl easur able rather than hccoming authl:nti cally enj oyn bJ e a nd tb us threaten ing. Tht: p lt:a~ lI n' Jcpends on an ahbn:vi" tI:d dcploym ent o f fantasy, om: that cll d~ 1.. ·1,, '1' It re: lc: hes its tra ll l1l;¡til' J1llill l. Bu t the tra u ma is [he
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key to the enj oym ent that fantasy offers: when films avoid trauma, they avoid enj oy ment. L ynch gives both by continuing th e fanta sy w here other fil ms stop. If it we re rhe typical film, Blue Velvet would end when Jeffrey and Sandy proelaim their love fm each other while dancing at a party. But just after this scene, Ly nch unl eas hes a traumatic encounter w ith the impossible object. Dorothy, her body naked and beaten, appears in the fantasmatic ideal world of Lumberton. This scene begins with Sandy's former boy friend Mik e chasing Jeffrey ane! Sa ndy through the Lumberton streets with his caroLynch shoots this chase so as to create a sense of dange r: we see the p u rs uing car onl)' in a series of long shots that don't allow us to see who's driving. W hen Jeffrey assumes thar Frank is in the car, the film encourages us ro agree wi th him. A fter Sand)' recognizes Mike dri ving, we experience the same rdicf that Jeffrey and Sandy do. Ten sion persists as they stop in fron t 00effrey 's house as Mike prepares to fight Jeffrey for stealin g Sandy from him , but M ike does not represent a threat like Frank . We are thus un prepa red, lik e the characters in the film, for "vhat happens next. W h ile Mike is in th e p rocess of con fronting leffr ey, Dorothy gradu all y en te rs in to the ba ck lc::ft side of the image. She seems to appear out of thin air, appearin g at nrst as an indecipherable bl ot that no one in cl ud in g the srecta to r- initiall y notices. W hen the other ch aracters do noti cc, thcy beco m e com pletel y diso riented . H cr intrusi on into the fan tasm atic rea lm rips apart th e fama sy structure. M ike abandons any notion of figh ting w ith leffrey and begins to de pa rt. Bu t to lessen the traum a of Dorothy's ap pearan ce, he adds, "W ho's th at, huh? Is that your mother r " 0 0 t he one hand. Mike's comment see ms to support the reading of rhe film that id entifies Dorothy with m aternity, but on the oth er, it attests ro the bntasmatic role that rhe irnage of Dorothy as mother plays. T hat thi s wo uld be Mik e's fi rst nss umption w hen he sees her walk ing th rough the yard naked anJ beaten suggests that he is re spondi ng w ith w hat immediately comes tu mind-i.e., w ith his uncoo scious fant<1sy. Mike's comm ent says m ore about him as a character than it docs abour Dorothy and her actua l status io th e fi lm. The threar of the ng ht suddenly seem s absurdl y illSign iricant in com pari son w ith the traum a orDoroth}'\ h"d ) . J lc' [ hliol ), J I ¡¡~ I 11I place w ith in the fan tasrna tic public w orlcl , and d J(: [, lIH 1\\ " l . (ill \lI.. I I.. ~ dnwn. T he for m in w hi ch J)oroth y ;lP(1I:';1" 1'1T1,11I;ly l'I~·d lill ol l"'ggi llg ¡( Ir ItJ
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[rey's belp--reveaJs the spectato r's investment in the fantasy and de m ands rhat lhe spectato rconf ron t he r qua im possible object. She doesn't fi t in the picture, w hich is why we becom e so uncomforta ble watching her naked bady in the mid dle ohbe suburban neighborhood. When Jef frey and Sandy take D oroth y into San dy 's ho use, Do rothy cLings to Jef frey and repeats, " He put his disease in m e." D o rorhy's presence is un bea rabl e both for characters in lhe film-Sandy begins to cry, and her m other retrieves a coat to cover Doro thy- a nd for the spectaror. Here the realm of d esire interscc ts w irh thar of famas)', forcing an en counter w ith the real dimel1sio n of the imposs ibl e object without ilts imaginary g uise. The fantas)' structu re of Lumberton 's ideal ized world can only maintain its consistency as long as it exeludes desire . Hence, wh en D orotby's desire intru des into th is structure, she shatters it and at th e same tim e sha lters th e specta tor 's d ista nce from what's happening. As a fo reign body in this mise-en-sd: ne, Dorothy cmbod ies the gaze, a nd our anxiery in seeing her indicates our en counte r with ir, revealing that We are in lhe picture ae ¡ts nonspec ul ar poinr, the roiot of rbe gaze. F or L aca n, "Tlle obj et a in thefield ofthe visible ú tIJe gaze."2 5 That is, rhe gazc is rhe impossi ble object- not a ~ ub jecti ve look but the point at w h ich the obj ect m a rk s tht:. subject's desire. T he gaze inelu des the sub ject's desire w ithín the visual fi eld aS'an imposs ible poin t irreducible to thal neld o As this scene illu strates, in the fo rm of the ga ze the ob ject looks back at uso O u r des ire becomes embodied in the traurn arie poi nt of Dorothy's body on tll e screen. Blue Ve/ve! uses a strict sepa ration of desLre and fan tasy in arder tú depict the tra wnaric poi n t of their inter section. T h<.: fi lm show $ thar by imm t:.rsing ou rselves in fa ntasy w ith out the securiry o f the fathe r, we can cncounter the im possi ble object. And it is rJl ro ugh mi s encounter thn t we cn joy.
A Utopia Without Disavowal
The film condudes w ith what seems like rhe resto ration of the ideal ized [antasy, now clea nsed ofboth its nigh tm arc undersid e and ofDor otby's desire. At Je ffr ey's house, we see Jeffrey's and Sandy's family in teracting with each other on a SUDn)' summ er afternoon. leffrey's farher stanJl> w irh De tec ti ve Wi lliam s in rhe backyarJ, his hea lth now re stored. jcffrey anJ Sandy are together, w irh he r boyfri end M ike no lon ge r a narri er to their romance. W hat's rno re, a robin appears on the
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winuow ledge, seeming to confirm Sandy's fa n tas matic preuiction that
W e mos t ofren rhink of the l urn to fantasy as a berrayal of d es ire , as
the re wiIl be trouble only until the rohins come. The re are, howe ve r,
a w ay of compromising on the pu ri ry of d esire. On one level, Blue Vel
noticea ble stains within this iJeali zed imagc .
vet confirms this idea through its d e picrion of fantasy as a retreat from
The robin itself, the rep rcse ntative of the ideal, also hints at the con
D orothy's implacable desire. Bu r on ano the r leve! , the conclusion of the
tinued cxistence of the und e rs ide as we see it eating a bug. This bug
film indicates how a certain mode o f famasizing ca n ta k e desi re in to
serves to reminu us of the o pening sequence, where Tom Beaumo nt's
accounr a nu rem a in rrue to ir. By ta.ki ng fam asy ro its limit, by fantasiz
collapse opened up the undervvorld of bug life bcneath the surface of
ing absolutely, on e sces d esire ree merge in the famas y. The bug that the
the grass. The idealized fantas)' thus rcveals its failure again, eve n a t the
robin ea rs and the sound of "Blue Vd vet" o n the film's a udio track in
point of its apparent success. The limitation of this fantasy becomes
the final scene bea r w itn ess to desire's reem crgen ce. F antasy allo ws us
even more ev iJe nt as th e fi lm ends.
to rcu iscove r the desire thar it lea ves be hi nd so long as we pe rsist in ir
The fi lm e nds with a final imagc of D orothy that suggests that the
seriously enough. Ir is only the ha lfhea rted fanta sy that forsak es desire.
restoration of the father has secured her desire. She n Qw ex ists as a
T he absolute comm itment ro fan tasy prod uces th e imp ossible m omenr a r wh ich be tra yed desire returns.
mother, with only maternal desires, in the ideahzed fantas )' world of Lumberton. The last image of th e film depicts Donnie , freed {rom Frank 's threat, pbying \-vith his smiling moth er on a bright sunny d ay. Thc idyllic see.ne offers visual confirma rlon of the clari ty of D ororhy's d esire, but, as so ofren ha ppe ns in a Lynch film, the audio rrack bclies the visual image. The lasr wo rds of th e film are D o ro rh y sing ing the song she ha s sung throug h out the film . We hea r, " A n d 1 srill can sec blue vel ve t through my rears." Th is line suggests that despite the image of Dorothy pla ying peacefull y w ith her son, her desire can no r fit com pletely in to th e ma te rnal role. He re the visual and the auuio tracks are com pletel y ar odds w ith eacb other, as rhe aud io rrack reca lls Doroth y's in vo lve m ent w irh F rank. Th is contin ucd d ivision w itJ1Ín Doroth y's de sire indicares th a t nei the r alre rn a ti ve is e nti rd y satisfying lO he r. S he
ft:
mains a subject d esi ring nothing a nd rhe re by staining tb e deno u eme n r ofthe film. In this way, tbe film show s us the limir that fantasy can nor eclipse. As Blue Ve/vet makes clear, famasy wo rks in two differe nt ways to na r rare the distur bance rhat desire brin gs ro the symbo lic order, but nei th er of these ways is fully successful. The ultima re contenrion of the fi lm is not rha t w e should aba ndo n our famasics-if this were even possibl e- because rhey al w ays fail. W hat we must do, instead, is pay attention to those mome nrs at which fantasy fails , not to guard against these mo ments, in order ro see that [h e enjoyment "ve d er iVé' from hmtasy de pe nd s di rectly on th e moments of t3ilu re. r1 is they fail tha r fan tasies a llo\-" liS :K l'(' ~\ 111
111 11 y a l I he ,111
['o¡n t at w h ich
lI r1w r w i,,'
in;1cccssible
obj ect.
1011
111:'
I M I' O~S I Il I I
QI\V IU I Yt~ r. 1I
SLUf VElV ET
109
Cage) and Lula (Laura Dern) tal k ing abou t rhe Yellow Brick Roae! and
FIVE The Absence ofDesire in Wild at H eart
going over the rainbow, Lula im agin ing her morher i\farictta (Diane Lad d ) as the Wicked \-Vitch of th e West, L ula wearing a ve rsion of Dorothy's ruby slippers, anJ rhe good wi teh G linda (Sheryl Lee) ap pearing to Sailor in a vision at the en d of the film. J Despite these and other allusions, Wild at Heal't does not depicr cl ashing ",rorlds of desire and fantasy that would correspone! to the division bt:rwee n the black and-white Kansas and th e colorful Oz, bu t immerses us eomplercly in a world of fantasy. Wild at Hea1"t is The Wiza1"d ofOz wi thout Ka nsas. For rhis rcason, ir shol.lld not be surprising th ar a l! the fil m's allusions to The Wizard ofOz refer to Dorothy's fantasy world and not ro the mundane reality of K ansas. Wild at Hea1"t p resents a world suffocaring under the height ened prescnce of rhe object an d bomba rding the subject with exccss. O nl y in a single sho t to ward the cnd of rhe film does Lynch suggesr rhe alternarivc-,he world of desi re-tha t th is world uf excess obscures. Just after rhe film's mosr m emorable sce nc (w hen Bobby Peru [Wi Llem
Lost in Fantasy
When Wild at Heal't (1990) was re!ea sed on Aug ust 17, 1990, Lynch was at a high roint of popular ity and critical esteem. Tb e te!evision series Twin Peaks, created by Lynch with Ma rk F rost, had ju st finished its successful first-season run (rhe pilot episode h av ing aired as a mid season replacement on April 8), and crirics an d audit: nces sti ll recallcd favorably the impn:ssion of Blue Ve/vet (1986), his prev ious fil m . Ae cording to most erities a nd viewers, Wild al Heart did not reach the per ceived heights of JJlue Velvet, but neither dicl it fa ll to the depths of
Dune (1984)' Ir won the Pa lme d'Or, the top prize al the C annes Film Festival, but those \Vho didn't like rhe film tended to fee! that ir went too far in the direction of excess: where Blue Velvet had an ideal world that counterbalaneed t.h e violent unde rworld it depiets, Wild at Heart had only the unJerworld . The typical Lyneh film, as we have see n, takes The Wiza1"d of Oz (Victor Fleming, 1939) as its model for enacting a strict separation be tween the wodd of desire ane! the wo r1d u f Fa ntasy. T hough Wild at Hea1"t contains mort: ove rt ~lllusions to 7'hl' lh cdrd (1 ni; I h ~1D :my of Lyneh's othcr films. its structu n:, iron in dly.l l.I " I l"~ 111 " " 111110 1\ w ith ir than dot:s lhe rest of Lynch 's WOI k. f1',1d .,1 ¡Ir,,/! ~ 11 1l\\' -",1 tlm (N icnhs
IIU
Da foe] $ex ually assaul ts L ula), we see él close-u p of Lula's feer in red slippers. In él direc t a l1 usion ro The Wizal'd of Oz, L ula click s the heels of her red shoes in an effort to remo ve herself from rhe wo rld of excess and go " back to K ansas" - ro a worlJ of desire that ba rs and p rovides protectio n from e njoym en t. Yet no such res pi te ex isrs: unlik e D orothy in The Wizard ofOz, L ula cli cks he r h eel s to no avai\. Tht: close-up of L ula clicki ng rhe hecls of her red shoes signifies me absen ce of the world oEabsence and desire in the film. In this sense,
Wild at H eart does conti n lle the divi sion rh at mark s Ly ncb's other films, bu r here che world of fa nrasy has completely subsumed the world of desire. The wo rld of desire is present only th rough rhe al1usion ro irs absence. 2 This allows L ynch ro explo re the ramifiearions of living en ti rel y in a worl d of fa ntasy-a wo rld commirted at al1 rimes to maxi mizing en joyment. Characters do not succumb to a sy mbolic law de manding m e sacrifice of en joymen t for the sa ke of the social order. The result is not what we might expect: rather than allowing Sailor and L ula to enjoy themse1 ves fu!ly, tbe fanrasy world consta ntly rhreatens their enjoym e nt. Beca use rhe external wo rl d has rhe cha racter of a private fantasy rathcr than a public realm, Sailor and L llla's pri va te fantasy ceases to be él J isrincr p!:tce apart [roID the exte rn al wo rld. The more rhe worlJ ir-
I'III UA rH fA HT
111
self becomes fantasmat ic and over whelms us with images üf excessive enjüyment, the more d ifficult it becomes for us to fantasize . Fantasy depends on a public world of desire that bars enjoy me nt. We create fantasies.-e ven filmic fantasies -in response to absence of the object that constitutes this public worl d. In the completely fantasmatic world that Wild at Heart depicts, the impossibility that plagues our desire
Th e Excesses o f W¡/d ot Heo rl
Wild at H eart is Lynch's müst exces sive fi lm. The film ineludes more graphic violence, mOre open displays of sexuali ty, and m o re acts of ex treme criminality than an y other Lynch film. Its excesses cause Blue Velvet to seem subdued in ret ros pect. We see, among mn ny other tru ngs, brain m aner spill from the head of Bobby Ray Lemon (Gregg Dan dridge); Bobby Peru's in lense sexual ;lSS:llI lt 0 11 I.lIla; BlIhhy Pc ru inao vertent1 y blowi ng offh is ow n he;, d \V iril .1 , IHIII ' 1111 ,11 H I 1lit' ':l di ~1 ic tll r ture ane! murder üf Johnn ic F:Il, tI~~ " 1 Cl I III} 111_111 ~ldlllll ll ). Wha t
117
THt
I M 'OS~IOIl :
nAV l 1l IY¡'¡' : II
makes these and üther excessi ve even ts so d isturbing is thar Lynch does not prov ide any alternati ve spa ce w he rein we m igh t esta blish our bear ings as spectators, a space m at we could contrast with the excessive events. Imtead, the excess pervades cach and eve ry scene. Lynch critic Jeff Johnson claims, with somc justice, that in this film "Lync h took lit erally Blakc's metaphysical musings abour me roaci of exccss leading to the palace of wisdom."3 O nly one character advocares any degree of restrai nt-Johnnie Fa rragu t- ano he dies a ho rr ible death precisely beca use his restrained pursuit of Sailor an d L ula displeases Marietta and leads her su bscquently tu acquiesce to his murdcr. The form of the fi lm ev inces a similar lack of restraint.4 Not only does L ynch inelude g raphic imagery within the fram e, but he al so con str ucls the narrative io a way that emphasizes excess. The movement of the narrative suffers contin ual interruptions due to the film's excessive events. This occurs, for instance, w hen Sailor and Lula are driving at night through Texas aoel encounter a car crash. A s they stop to in vesti gate, a wom an involvcd in the crash d ics befo re their eyes. T he enrire scene has an cxcessive s[a tus re lative to the fil mic narrati ve beca use Íl serves only to inter ru pt rather th an ad vaoce m e narrative. Ins tead of m oving forward in a lin ear fashio n, tb e na rrative seems to ex ist in ord er ro bring us to the next extreme image. T hi s dyn arn ic bcca m es appa rent during Sailor and Bobby Peru':; attem pted robbery. As be shoots th is el imactic scene in th e film, Lynch cm phasizes nat its role in the narra tive but th e ex treme images that ir produces--th e a fo rementio ncd de ca pila lion of Bobby Per u, and a dog seen walk ing away with the de tached hand of one of rhe robbery victims in his mourh. Lynch creates a form thar high ligh ts the extreme im age at the expense of narrative m ovement , T wou ld argu e, in orde r to illustrate the eEfcct of unre strained enj oyment. In the fi lmic world of Wild at Heart , there is no norm al expe rience free of the stain of excess. 5 O ne of the chief ways that Lynch port rays visually the unrestrained enjoyment that characteri zes m e fi lmic world is through the use offire. Beginni ng with the fl lm 's opening titl es, w hich Lynch displa ys in w hite against a black backg round w ith Aames rising up on it, ti re or fl ames appear throughou t tbe fi lm. E ach ti me th at we see fire, characters are en joying th emselves, even-or csrecia lly-when ~Lnoth e r character bu rns t() tka th. W hen we see Sai lor and Lub ha ve sex fo r the fi rst tim e in th\.: lil lll. 1.\I\,h ¡nI ludes a cl(J~ l'- lI p ',(:1 Ib me ligh li ng a cigarettc .
WI ~
1-' Al H(A RT
11·1
This image, repeated later in the film, points toward the ex treme enjoy ment th at they seem to experienee. At othe r tim es, fir e illustrates the enjoyment that eharaeters expe rience durin g acts of vio lence. Marictta organi zes the fiery deaths of both Uncl e Pooeh (Marvin Ka plan) and her husband C lyde, and their burning bodies demonstratc the enjoy ment that she receives from their violent d ea ths. Lyneh explieitly links Mar ien a's excessiv e cn joymcnt to th e excesses that are ravaging the planet. Ea rl y in the film, Lul a tells Sailor, "That ozone laye r is d isappea ri ng. One of these mornings the sun is going to come up and bum a hole clear through th e pla net like an electrical x-ray." A fte r Lula says this, we hear a woman's laugh in the backg round and scc a c1osc- up of a pained look on Lul a's faee. The film dissolves tu a shot of a house in flames-an im age of the Jeath of Lula 's father-as the woman's disturbing laugh eontinues. This im age dissolvcs back to L ul a's pained faee. Shc proclaims, "That woman 's laug h ereeps me out. It sounds lik e someth ing r hca rd before. It sounds li ke the w icked w itch." The laug h "creeps her out" beca use it remind s L ula of her mother's laugh , her mother's obscene displ ay of enj oy m ent. We k no w that Marietta is respons ibl e for thefire tha l kills her husba nd , and tite image of the bu rning thus also m arks her enj oy ment. If tbe pla net. :lS L ula claims, suffers from too mueh heat ane! fire, Marietta's excessive enjoyment plays a pa rt in raisin g its tempe ratu re. Ma rietta's exccssive en joyment also manifests itself in the spee tacle she crea tes out (lf herself. We see her drunk, out of control emorionally, and obsessed with destroyiog anyooe w ho stands in the way of her desire. She d emonstrates no respeet for the typical bar ri ers that ma rk re\ationsh ips , as she follows Sailor, the boyfrienJ of her J aug h ter, ioto a men's room and asks him, "How would yOl! like to fuck L ula"· momma?" This ty pe of uncontroll ed w ill to eojoy even viol ates her se\ f-interest, causing Marietta to act in ways that victimi ze hersel f. Frustrated with Johnn ic F arragut's inabili ty to ap prehcnd Sailo r an Lula, she all ows Marcel lo Santos (J.E. F reeman) to ha ve John nic rnur dcred eve n th ough she 's in love with him. A fter consenting ro the mur der of her love r, we see Ma rietta lose all restrai nt and srn ea r bri ght red li pstick all over he r face. T he im age (lf ivfa rid l;1 \ h n · e(lm pletely cov ered w ith red lipstick is so dis tur bi ng heC II' ''· 11 ill dll :I k~ hl' r 111 te r lack of sdf-control. Eve n in her fecling oi" 11I11 ,1[" , , 111 tllII, 11"1 ';fOp ;·It the point rn()~t people do bu! CUlllilll ln 11) ,! :\ II 'r.~ I\"It'~ , 1.1, " . II ,,"" I ~ ¡Jl i, ,(('ne::, 11-1
THE IMP OSSIUll I' ''V I ('I I Y"'~ 1I
Ja na Evans Brazicl notes, "Wíld (/1 Ht'a /" presents Ma rietta as a woman wh o is rapid ly spilling over towa r d~ bo u nd lcss ness."6 Thc result of this boundlessness-and that of the C1t her characters in the film-is a world in which enjoymcnt appears as :l n uoavoidable pub lic spectacle. The intrusion of priva re en i oy m~ t in to the publi c world becomes most evident in the eharacter of Bo bby Peru. Bobby is in Big Tuna making a porn film , and we lea rn fro m another character that he was invol ved in a massacre of civili anc; in Vietnam. But Bobby's exce ssi ve cnjoy men t is not lim ited ro w hat he does; his appearance registers his obscene enjoyment directly on t he surface of his boJy. His deforrned mouth a nd teeth resern ble a vagi na d entata, and Lynch filrns th cm in a way that emphasizes their rol e in Bobby's enj oyrn ent. Dur ing his sexual assault on Lula, Bobby repeats "Sa y 'fuck rne.''' As he does this, \Ve see repeated c1ose-ups ofhis rnou th, w hich looks rno re like the open mouth of the \Vorrns in Dtme rhan an actual hurnan rn outh. Th e c1osc-ups sug gest an enjoyrn ent that derives not from the sex act itself but frorn speaking about it. This suggestion soon rcceives confirm ation w hen Bobby refuses to have sex with L ula after he finall y coe rces he r into say ing "F uek me." His private enj oyrnent mani fests itse lf in th e most pub lie act of all-that of spea king/ Wheneve r he speak s in the film , h is eoarsc language and ove rl y familia r m anner rend crs obv ious h is intense en joym ent. Eve n befo re bis assault on L ula, Bobby di splays tbe publ ic nature of his enj oyment in his dialogue w ith her. He enters L ula anJ Sa110 r's cabin and asks if he can "take a piss in your head ." Th is staternent makes public acrivities th at are us ually kept pri va te. And his subse quent explanation further d isplays h is obscenity, as he tells L ula thar he m eans he r toi let rather than her actual head. He Baunts the extremes of his ability to imagine perve rsions, evcn while deny ing that he will real ize them . This publicizing of private enjoyment helps ro create a wo rid w irhout a public realm constituted around abscnee anJ lack. Marietta and Bobby serve as the primary figures of authori ty in Wild at Heart, and each pushes Sailor and Lula towa rd enjoyment rather rhan awa y fro rn it. In this sense, they represent the contemporary wo rid's perversion ·of a uthority-the m aternal supe rego and the ana l fat her of enjoymcnt. \Vhereas trad itional authority functions througb absence and ar a di stance fro m the subject, contcm porary authority re maim close at hand and exhibits its Own suffoeating enj oyrnent as it
WII rl
/lo'
H E/Io~T
11 ;,
commands the suhject to enj oyas we!!.R Marietta d emand s that Lul a
to the violcnt world that surrouncl s it but shows the intimate link be
rem ain within their perverse ho nd and esc hew any o ther love object,
tween the two. Throughout the fil m , Lynch works on the lev e! of form
and Bobby driv es Sailor to commit a robbery that Sailor doesn 't wa nt to
to dem ons trate the links between the romance an d the surrounding
commit. The p roximity of these two a uthority figures threa tens to su f
world . The film even goes so far as to suggest that the society depicted
focate both Sailor anJ Lub. The exccssivc enj oyment that ch arac terizes
in Wild at H eal't líes in such disarra y becauJe oJthe approach that Saill or
th e filmic world of Wild al Hearl lca ves no room for Sa ilo r and Lula to
and Lula tak e ro their romance. That is to say, they expe ri ence the
constitute their relation ship. To expericnce too much enjoymcnt is al
world as vio1ent and threa tcning because of the position they occupy,
ways to fee! as if one is n ot experiencil1g enough.
n ot necessa ril y beca use the wor ld is violent and threa te ning. Wild at
Heart brea ks clown the d istinction between the m e re1 y p riva te fantasy and the external wo rld, allowi ng us to see how private fantasies work
Publicized Privacy
to sha pe me external wo rld .
focus o n the appealing rom ance between Sailor an d
E ven a film as devoted to the exp loration of private fantasy as Wild
Lula-Michel Chion calls it " the most beauti f ul love ba ilad which the
at Heart becomes a film about soci ety at large. T ho ugh the political di
cinema h as ever whispered into the night"9- a nd contrast this rela tion
mension of Emserhead (1977) and D une (1984) is pe rhaps more ev ident,
It is tempting
tu
ship with th e threatening external world in w hich it exisrs in the film .
WlLd at Hea l't sho w s how the pri vate bccomes p ublic and takes on a so
The re! ationship , according to th is interpretatio n , providcs res pite froro
cia l impo rt oIn thi s se nse, it d efies Sharon Willis's com plaint mat "while
the unpleasa nt life existing ou tside of it. It is harmonious, pure, and in
Lynch's film s are all abo ut struggles wi th 'the pa rents inside o ne's head,'
n occ nt, while the surrounding world is d egradcd , violent, and perve rsc.
they a re about protectin g and preserving th ose in te rnal imagoes, in ter
Though not as celebratory in his praise of t he relatio nship as C hion ,
n al censo rsh ips . Conseq uently, th ey o ffe r the lure of protectioD fr om
Kenneth K aleta emphasizes this dyn am ic: " M utual sec uri ty in th e ir
histor y and poli ti cs by imag in ing th at cveryth ing comes clown to a p ri
un ion, romantic innocen ce, underlies the . .. rela tio nshi p, dis tinguish
vate psychosexual adventu re, o r dra ma. lt is aU in our h eads ."12 In Wild
ing them from the squalo r and frenzy Qf m eir w o rld ."1O Eve n critics
al
who see a connectio n betwec n th e rel ationshi p and the w orld sur round
m ay in fae r be in ou r h eads, but
ing it tcnd to sce this connection resulting from the influcnce of an im
world.
H eart (th e fil m I'ha t earnSthe m a jo rity of W illis 's critici sm), the d rama
oue head s are leaking in to the outside
pure world on Sailor and L u la. T h e fault does no t lie w ith meir rela
Th is becom es most appa rent through Lynch's use of music in the
tion ship itse!f. For Martha N och imson, the distinc rion betwee n the
fil m , especialJy me spccd- meta l song "Slaughterhousc" by the band
rom a ntic relationship and th e external wo rlJ in th e fil m b reaks down ,
Powe rmad . O n the one ha nd , the son g serves as something like an an
but it break s JO'vvn when the "d issonant" nature o f tbe exte rnal wo rld
them for Sa ilor and Lul a's re1atio nship. Ir pld ys w h en we first see them
intrudes o n them. She c1aims, "T ensio ns in Sailor ancl Lu la's relatio n
h av ing sex, w hen Sa ilor an d L ula d a nce to the ba nd playing it live,
ship are nev er resolved beca use , despite their mom ents of sex ual grace,
and w hen they dance
to
it o n th ei r car radio on a d ese rted T exas high
the y too are part of the disson ant w orld as it actuall y cxistS."11 IfSail or
way. According to A nnette D avison, "Slaug hte rhouse" exp resses "the
and Lul a's relationship falls short of an ideal at some poin t, lhis is the
strength and pass ion of Sa ilo r and Lula 's love."' 3 But the song is not as
prod uct not of its ow n intern a 1 failing but that of the society in w h ich it
sociated only with images o f their roma n ce. We first h ear this song in
exists. The problem with this apo theosis of the fi lm's f()II);1IK ~ a nd co rre
th e ope ning scene o f me fi lm as Sa il or beats Bobby Ra y Le mon to death.
sponding d enigratiof1 of the rest of the SOCi" I)' ti 1;1 1 1h, h llll J cpicts lies
Lemo n opcning h is sw ite hblade. th e twn heg in ro fi g ht, a nd just as the
in its failure to ~ee the fund a mc nla l lillk 1,, ' I\Verll Ihl~ IW'-I , 11.11 th <.: film
fig ht c ()mIl H'll n'~, 1he v íole n l so und ()f "SI::! ug htu )¡ ouse" com menees as
itself makcs . ~Vitd al H elJl' f docs 111 11 "1'1'11\1 ' ~, rlllill 11111\ I Id.I\
wd !. I >a \'l~l1 ri d, ',( I i¡'\·~ 1his song ~IS "a IlIlId :lIl d gralid i"se piccc nf rock
11"
'''1
IMIIO ~S " ,II
UAVlll IYrIL
"
r OI1 \;lll r "
Af te r a shot of Lerno n threate ni ng
to
ki ll Sa ilo r and a close- up on
WII
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M
tlfART
1I1
music that builds in strength through a combinario n of the emphatic repetition and va riatia n of thematic fi gures w ith pe rcussive im errup ti on. " q The lo udn.ess and building strength of the song creates a sense of break ing free from restraint-and thi s out-of-co ntrol qual ity char acterizes both the romance and Sail or's violence. If "Slaughterhouse" expresses the passion in Sailor and L ula's relationship, it also expresses the wa y in which chis passion exceeds the relationship itself and mani fests itsclf in Sailor's rage tO\vard thc externa! worl d. Ly nch uses the same music for their rclationship and for Sailor's lethal violence in or der to indicate the abscnce of a barrier betwcen the re:lationship and the external world. Before it establishes the romance between Sail or and Lul a, Wild at Heart dcpicts a thrcat to this romance in the form of Bobby Ray Lem on (and Marietta, who hired him to kill Sailor). This woul d seem to suggest, following Nochimson's thcsis aboye, that the film h ighlights the extern al forces that tbreatcn the purity oF the romance. H owever, though the opcning sccnc shows Lem on and Ma rietta as th reatcni ng fi gures, it pl aces more em ph asis on Sa ilor's excessi ve reaction to Lemon's threat. As we hear the po unding m usic fro rn Powermad, we watch Sa ilor beating Lemon's hea d repeated!y against the rail ing of the stairs. A close-up of blood spl atteri ng across the Aoor foll ows. Sailor th row5 L emon dow n thc sta irs and sm as hes his head agai n st the ground until a po o! of blood amasses. A fter we see Sailor sta nd ing victorious over the body, Lync h cuts to a closer shot of the body that m akes vis ibl e bra in matter oozing out of the back of Lemo n's head. Rathc r than di splayi ng remo rsc, SaiJor poses ove r the dead body and lig hts a cigarette. The fa ct th at this sceIle opens the film and thus provid es our first insight into Sailo r's ch aracter suggests its importance for und erstanding him . T hough Sailor is cle fending him se!f, leve! of violen ce he employs far exceeds wh at is nec essary. This depiction of excessive violence emanating from Sai lor re veals the link between Sailor and Lula's re!a tionship and the violent world that surrounds them. Instead of marking a retreat, their relation ship hel ps to consti tute the violent ex ternal world. J5 Lynch himse!f says that he included the ch a racter of O . O . Spool (J ac k Na nce) making reference to T he Wi.zard ofOz in ore!er to ind iGne the li n.k between Sailor an d L ula 's rela tions nip :md t he \Vorle! sur roun ding it. The Wizard ofOz [Jrovides ti ,,· , cl1"II1>' t.. r tlt, f;1n! 3SY th~l t Sailo r and Lula try to real izc: ¡hey [11>11111 d l'IlU h,', '111 d I!' Yd low
me
li S
111,
I M I' O~5 I!H(
U¡'V II )
I YN ~ I I
Brick Road headi ng for som ewhere aye r lhe rain bow, me naced on their voyage by the W icked W itch . They tra nsfor m The Wzzard of Oz ioto their own private Iang uage, but Spool 's presence in th e narrati ve sug gests that others have access ro m is same priva te lang uage. Spool ap pea rs in the film after Sailor and Lula arrive in Big Tun a, Texas, and th is appearancc seems en ú rel } tange ntial to the fi lmic narrative, as does the belaborcd story he tells about hi s dogo Bm whe n he men tio ns rhe dog, he says, "A nd you may even picture Toto from The Wizard of Oz ." T his statement from a com plete stranger discomfi ts L ula-as it should the viewer-bccause it indicates th at Sailor and Lul a's private fa m asy life has scepcd into the public wo rld. Discussi ng this momen!:, Lynch says, "The idea tbat someone else was speaki ng about something that Sailor and Lula sh a red secretl y was a dou ble wha mmy. ft n ts in with the theme, hut it's scar y at the same tim e."J6 H ea ring an ou tsider's ref erence to Toto, we mcogni ze Sailo r an d Lula's inabili ty tú cons truct a distinctive fa ntasy Efe in a w holly fantasma tic world . At one point in the film, the distinctio n between m e lovers and the world surrou ncl ing mem seem s most em phatic: as L ula d rives the car aft er they lea ve New Orleans, shc sea rches for something to listen to on the radio and n nds on ly d istu rb in g ne w,'; being c1 iscussecl on evny sta ti on. Disgus ted , sh e pulls the car a ve r to the side of me road , gets out, and deman ds that Sailor "find sorne music" on the rad io. After tuni ng th rough more talk radi o, Sail or d iscovers a song-" Sla ug hterhouse" by P owerm acl , the speed-metal song that pLayed w hcn S:lÍlo r k illed Bobby Ray L cmoll and when Sailor and L ula had sex fur thc fi rsr time in the fi lm. Hece, th e song appea rs d iegetically (as ir d id on ce eaclier in the film w hen Sa iJ or and Lul a l.istened ro the band perform it Li ve) ancl oc casions a d ram atic change in Lula's atti tud e. She and Sailor bcgin to dance wil dJy at the side of the road as the song bb res from the car's sterco. The music seem s to offer so me pri vate respite for Sailor and Lula fro 111 the viole nce and traged y of the exte rnal worl d . But the song itself is jus t as vi olent as the d iscussions on the rad io, and , for us as spectators of the fil m , we associate it with me ex treme violence that 5ailor dis played as he beat Bobby Ray Lem on to dea th. T his connotation indi cates thn t despite Lula's belief tha t th is m usic offers an alternative to the "sick " worl d, Sailor and Lula rema in firmly within this sick ness whil e dancing on the sie! e of the road ro "Slaug hterhousc. " U ntil ene! of
me
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II \!. fil m, ~ a¡ h ' r (t nd L ula's rcl ati onship conti nues tu m ino r the external
worl J ralher than pose a genuin e alternati ve.
Not Enough Fontosy
Sailo r and Lula encounter so much troubIe in their attempt ro realize their fantasy hecause they fail to commit them sel ves fuIly ro it. They want the fantas)' ro he pIeas urahIe, a nd chus they cann ot sustain it w he n it isn't. It is this dev iatio n, not the fantasy itself, that p rod uces cach of rhe difficulti es they encounter. Rath er than warning us abou t the d an gers of fantasm a ti c enj oym ent , the fi lm reveals w hat results from our inability ro follow th e logic offantas y. This failure occurs w hen we turn our attention tow ard the O ther a nd concentra te on how the O the r sees uso W hen on e fu lly commits to on e's fantas y, one ignores rhe O ther's look altogethe r, but th is docsn't ha ppen in the film , nor does it ha ppen in our see mi ngly fa ntasm ati c contempo rary soc iery. Wild at H eart beli es Lynch's own conse r vative comm ents ahout its serv ing as a ca utionar y taje. C ommen ting on contem pora ry soc iety, he cl aims, " Eac h yea r we give permission for pcople to gel away wilb more. W e d o it by being di so rganized , bein g w it hou t Ieadershi p, not m aking deci sions fas t cnoug h, and nOl hold ing tr ue to things that were in place to beg in w ith. Then il gets easier to give m ore away."17 F rom these com m ents , it sou nds as if rne excess tha t W¡ld at Heart c1 epiets is the result of an absence of authority-a n absence that has al\owed indi vi d ual subj ects too much leeway in reali zin g their p rivate fan tasies at th e publi c's expense. And this is certa inl y how the fil m in itiall y appea r s. But such a view m isses the deg ree of obedience th at Sailor and L u la ex hibit towa rd fig ures of autho rity. Sa ilor and Lul a cach fa il to full}' em brace their fantasy for di ffúen t reasons, and through the d e piction of their fa il ure, Lync h reveals the common m ale a nd fem ate ways of avoid ing the real that fa ntasy actual izes. Sailor avo id s fuJly commi ttin g him self ro thcir fa ntasy because of hi s inves tm ent in phallic authority. From the very first sce ne of lhe fil m , Sa ilor sers out to prove hi s non-cas tration, to prove that he is potent rather than lacking. He bea ts Bohby Ray Lem on lo dea lh an J lights a ciga rette over th e body in ord er to u nclerl int: h i~ t rili ll1 r h. Late r, he cn gages in a sim il ar- tb ough Icss v iolen t- IHltl ll lr\' whu\ ,11I11t1 lcr man a pproaches Lu la at a COllccrt. T h is SCl: I H' i, l 'p' \ .. 11 1\ 1 t \ 1 I lle-'1 y itlsof:lf
I JO
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as it depicts Sailo r d efending Lul n's "h onor." Sail o r forces the rn an to apologize to Lula for the offe nse he has gi ven her. Far from ind icating Sa ilor's e1evo tíon ro Lul a and th eir fa n tasy, these action s show Sailor's in ves tment in p haIlic authority. He acrs as he cloes Dot for Lula but for the anonym ous societal O ther- in order to e1em o nstrate his status as non-lack ing. Sailor believes him self free of aU the sy m bolic constra ints tbar bind otber subjects. H is mantra concern ing h is snakcskin jacket ma kes lhis id ea of h imself clea r: "M y sna kesk in jac ket . . . rep resents m y ind ividual iry anel m y beliefin personal freedom." The problem w ith t his insi stence on his indi vid uality is prec ise\y the insú tence itsel f. Th at is, the ve ry fact that Sailor must p rofess his freeelom to th e O ther tes tifies to his lack of frecd om and to h is de pend ence on th ar O th er to recogni ze him as a "free" subj ect. Sailor claim s rhat he suffers from an absen ce of symbolic author ity, noting that he "didn't hav e much pare ntal guid ance." E u t the film re veals th e opposite. Sa ilor suffers from too much "paren tal guid ance" the suffocaring prese nce of pa rental Or social au th ority.' 8 Sailor's investm ent in sym boLic author ity a nd its ideal of non cas tration leads h im ultim atel y to go a lon g w ith Bobby P eru 's heist. Bobby d ang ks the idea of p rovidi ng for L ula in front ofSailor, and this is enoug h to w in Sa ilor 's acq u iescence. He sed uces Sailor w ith th e im age of a "real m an" w ho co ul d sup po rt h is woma n. Al th e en o of the film, thi s is also w hat p revcnts Sailor from initialI y going w id, L ula and h is son Pace when they pick him up fro m prison. Feel ing that he c:ln't be rhe perfect fathe r for Pace, Sai lor rejects íarhe rh ood altogethe r. The very id entifica tion w ith sy mbolic autho rity preven ts hi m from fully embracing fan tasy. And w here Sail or invests h irnself in sym bolic auth ori ty ar rhe ex pense of fan tasy, L u la inves ts herself in an im aginary au thoriry- her m other Ma rietta . She recogni zes rhe rol e t har her mothe r plays in kecp ing her a part from Sailo r, and ye t never sta nd s up to her m other or breaks off comm unicatio n. H er co mmitment to her im aginary bond with her mother rem ains stro nger throughou t the film than he r com mi tment to the fantasy of rornantic u n ion w ith Sai lor. She confesses to Sailor, "Maybe my m omma ca res for me just a little too mueh," which show s that Lula g ras ps to sorne ex tent Ma rietta's im p roper bun d with her. Bu t the ver y wa y thar she p uts it- thar Ma rietta cares "too much" d cm ons t ra tes her refusal to ack now led ge w hat's ar stak e fo r her.
WI l D A T Il fART
l' 1
In order to sustain her feelings for her morher, Lula lies to hcrself and to Sailor about her ow n knowledge concern ing Marietta 's activi tieso In narrating her childhoou to Sailor, she recounts Unele Pooch'~ rape of her when she was thirteen and the death of he r father. Both of these cases reveal that Lula knows about her mother's kn owlcd ge of the rape (and her involvement in Pooch's murder afterward) and that she seems to know about her moth er's role in her father's death . A s Lula discusses Uncle Pooch's rape, w e see a Aashback ofr h e ev ent, and when she describes how ~Jngry Marietta wou'ld h:lve been had sh e known, we see Marietta w alking in on the aftermath ofthe felpe and accosting Un ele Pooch. Since this flashback occurs whi'le Lula is speaking, the film suggests that she knows what we see-and has either re pressed it or in tentionally ignored ir. From this, we can suppose that L ula at least sus pects her mother's role in th e death of her father. Thi s avoidance of the truth about her mothcr allows Lula to continuc to enjoy the securiry o f her bond with Mariett a. To succumb to the logic of fantas)' is to encounter a m aterializatian of the gap within the symbolic order. F a ntasy, tbe narra ti ve appea ring in this gap, primarily functions to assure us that the gap doesn't exi st, that there is an Other outside th e system of sign ificaríon w ho authori zes it. But beca use of its locatiof] in the gap of th e sy mbolic order, fan tasy also has the potential to desrroy the assurances of sy mbolic identity an d the comforts (lf imaginary bonds, forc ing liS to expe rience an en joy m ent tha t leaves us exposcd and vul nerable. T his is an enjoyment thar we don't see throughout the film. W e see images ofSailor a nd L u la en joying themselves, but eve n w he n th ese mom ents occu r p ri vately, the rehearsal s of e njoyment are perfo rmances for the O rbe r. loan Cop jec suggests that "jouissance flourish es o nly there whe re it is no! valiclated by the Other."I9 One cannot perform one's enjoymcn t; one suffers it.
Refusing Any Absence
The problem with the en joyment that the characters in Wild at Heart pursue is that it demands a n impossible total presence. The attempt to secure complete e njoyment without Joss inevita bl y pf()duces prec ise1y the experience of loss that one t ries to avoid . C OI n pk tL' r.:n juyrnem ha s ao imaginary status: we see it- or imagin e il itl rll. r Irlll'r, hut cvery auernpt to reali ze it b rings di sappoi ntmt'I\! 11 111, o!l ~, I J!J!' .\lIl1llllltl is lhe
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Tlit IMP OSSln LE DA I/ ID
~ YNC II
gen esis of psyc hoa n alysis, whi ch comes into being in response to it and reveals that all satisfaction d epends o n an initial renunciation of the p ri vi leged object. As Lacan puts ir in Senlinar V, " it is insofar as the child . . . cloes not renüUI1ce its objcct tha t its d esire does not find it sel f satisfied."20 The initial re nuncia tion p rov ides the a venue through which desire travels. The atternpt ro su stain a relationship vvith the privi,leged object inevitably fails beca use the object only becomes the privi l eged objta-rhe obj ect e mbodying the subjcct's enjoyrnent th rough its loss. Clinging to th e prescnce of the object thus devalues the object and foregrounds the subject's failure to enjoyo But the drive toenjoy is not so easil y sidetracked . Though consciously me subject rnay remain fixated on the ideal of complete enjoyment, the unconscious drives the subject to ward another form of enjoyrnent. Since enjoyrnent can onl y be partial and depends on the experience of absence, the subject d isappointed w ith the atternpt to achieve complete enjoy ment soon works unconsciousl y to create the loss uf the obj eot whereby enjoyrnent w ill become possibl e. T h at is to sa.y, the frustrated suhject be nt on co m plete enjoyme nt engages in a for m of self-sabotage that actu al! y deprives this subj ect of the privilegcd object that it desires, T he sub ject's proclivity fo r self..sabotage -dream s that retu ro to trauma rather than imag in ing its d isap pearaoce, the nega tive therape utic reaction , and so o n-impel s F rcud to write Beyond the Pleaiure Principle (1920), in which h e d iscove rs the cleath d rive a ncl asse rts its primac y. As Freud sees, unconscious sel f-sabotage is the path rhar desirc takes w hen it initially chok es ()n the stifl ing presen ce ofr.he privi leged übject. Pe rn aps the fundamental co u nterin witive el aim of psychoanalysis is tha t subjects do not act in thei r own sel f-in te rest. Instead, they sacrifice thei r self-inte rest in o rd er to crea te or sustain them sel ves as desiring. Sel f-in te rcst has val uc for the subj ect beca use it provides som e thing to sacrifice. By sacrificing one's own inte rest in an act of self-sabotage, one inaugurates the relationship of desire rda tive to the lost object. But few consciously engage in the project of scl f-sabotage: the conscious pursuit of self..inte rest allows the suhj ect to rern:lin blind to the unconscious sa crifice of it. This is rhe dy narn ic tha t becomes rampant in a world where every one is bent o n obtaining complete en joyrn e nt. T hi s pe rvasive will to en joy infects alm os! cvery cha racte r in Wild /Jt Heart, and Lynch ineludes th e o thcr\\'i,\ I.illt!c: nt i::'¡ story o f Jingle Ud l (C rispi n GI ()" cr) in o rder
WII IJ lIT " rÁR T
173
to exe mplify the link between the search for com p lete enj oy m e nt and th e violen ce that characte rizes the wo rld of the fi lm. 2 1 W hile Lul a and Sailor are talking in bed one night, Lula tell s Sailo r the story of he r cousi n nickna med "Jingle Del!," as we see the story unfold in flashba ck. Jingle Dell ea rned hi s name beca use he \va nted Christmas to last al! year long, and when it didn 't, he concoc ted a par anoid th eo ry about aliens controlling the ea rth and stealing the spir il of Christmas. 111 re spon se to the absence of the spirit of Christmas, he bega n placing co& roaches on his anus. As Lul a recounts this detail, we see an imagc of Dell's mother finding his und erwea r covered "vith cockroaches. Even though thi s seems like a biza rre and ex treme perve rs ion, it fol!ows logi call y from Jingle Dell's sta rting point. Lync h has Lula tel! thi s story be cause it demonstrates in precise te rms the tra jectory tha t res ults from the pri\!ileg ing of com plete enj oyment. Jingle Dell's desire for Ch ristm as to last all year lon g is a desire for enjoyment without a bsence. But enjoyment depend s on absence, and Christmas allows us to un dersta nd this in the simplest way. One's en joyment is the result of th e absen ce of the privileged d ay throughout the rest of the year: one e nj oys Chri stmas o nl y as an exceptional day, w hich mea ns that one oblatns from it a partial enj oyme nt. In order to ex plain the failure of com plete en joy m ent, Jingle D ell turns to a pa ra noid exp lanation: the O thcr has stolen th is enj oy ment-the spi ri t of C hri stmas-and t bus represents an externa l barrier to com plete enj oy m en t. Th is type of explana tion allows the subject ro preserve the idea l of complete enjoyment as a possibili ty in m e fac e of its faiLu re. Jingle D ell can tell himself that even tho ugh we don 't cn joy the spir it of Christmas all yea r lo ng, this failure is not necessary but the contingent result of an alie n age ncy. In conjunction with th is explana tion, Jingle Dell begins placing cockroaches on his anus in order to expe ric nce en joyment in som e way a fter missing the complete enjoyment of a perma nent C hri stmas . The masochistic tu ro to the coc k roach ap peals to Del! beca use the cockroach allows himto suffer and, while suffering, he feeb th e abscncc of the pri vileged ob ject, which is the modt' in w hich one can c nj oy it. I n this way, DeLl 's tu rn to perversion p rov ides exactly what his investm en t in the sp irit of Ch ristl11 as co ulr! nut-actual enj oym ent .22 Tbe case of Ji ngl e Dcll lays o ut tite 1';111\· '11 ,11.1 1 Ih , pllw l , hllractc:rs
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in Wild
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acts-the killing of Hobby Ray Lemon, the robbe ry committed w ith Bobby Pe ru-result ff()m lhe logic of Jingle Dell. Una ble to experie nce the complete e njoy m e nt he dcsircs des pite the presence ofLula, Sailor finds a way to introd uce abse nce into thei r rdati onshi p and thus to m a ke it enjoyable. L ula, for her part, finall y sub mi ts to Bobby Pcru and says, "Fuck m e," for the Sdme reason. T h is scene occurs in rh e midst of troubles in her rel.mionsh ip with Sailo r, a nd il works to em phasize th e ex perience of absence for Lula . Though they don'r go so far as to put cockroac hes on their anuses, both Sailor and L ul a's behavio r mirrors tha t of Jingl e Del!.
The Price of the Ho ppy End ing Tbough other seten es (the shooting of Jo hn nie Farragu t, Hobby Peru's assault on Lula) are more m emorable tha n [he ending, the film 's final scene m ay be the most d is rurbi ng simply because it seem s to violate the ov e rall tone of the fi lm a nJ rep resent.1 clea r in stance of Lynch's cavi ng in to popular expectation s. Lynch hi m sel í exprcssed awa re ness th at people might say he "was trying to be COl11mercial" by p rod ucing a h app y elld ing whe re Barry G ifford's sou rce novel did nO lo ' 3 Ly nch 's rew ri ting of the concl usion of G iffo rd 's n ovel m arks a d ramatic ch ange. As Dav id Hughes points ou t, thoug h he rnade other significant changes in w ri ring tbe screenplay, "No single aspect of Lynch's adaptarian re presc nred a m ore rad ical depa rture from the sou rce m ate rial ma n the c ndi ng."'4 hough this type of depa rru re is ty pical in H oll ywood ad a ptations, we ca nnot simply cha lk it up to Lynch's desire ro creare a popular fil m, espe ciaHy in light of his other fi lm s and the othcr ways in which lhis film es che ws a po pul ar appeal . Why, men,does the film end ha ppily? Lynch ineludes the h appy end ing in arde r to show just what it would take for us ro expe ricnce enjoyrne nt a m id the conte m porary landsca pe. In o rd er to secure the film's ba ppy end ing, Sailor and Lula m ust ful!y commi t the msel ves to the real k ernel oftbeir fantasy aCld give up their in vestment in thei r sy mbolic and im agina ry relationships. A fter Sailor walks awa y from Lu la and hi s son Pace to wa rd rhe e nd of the film, a gang of men approa ch hi m from a1l sides a nd surro und h im as he walks dow n the m idd le of the road. Sai lor stops, ligh ts a cigare n e, and asks, "W har do YOU faggols wan t? " This q ues tion prolllpts the ga ng to attack Sai lor. ólml . 1'; he l ic~ nn rhe g ruunJ aftcr rh e bc:'t ing, he h:1s a visi O)1 oC
\'.'11 ¡J ~r II r llR I
11
the good witch Glinda (Shery l Lee) from The Wiza ,.d olOz. G li nd a tells Sailor that Lula la ves him and tha r he shüuldo't turo away from love. Sailor prote~ ls, "I'm wi ld at hea rt," and Glinda rcsponds, "If you're truly wild at heart, )'üu'lI fight für yom dreams ." T hou gh it seems like a maud lin cliché, the corrective that C;linda offe rs to Sailor hef(" shows how Sailor has m isunderstood what comtitutes "wild at hea rt" through out the film. For Sailof, bei ng wild at hea rt means embodying an ideal of non-castration, being a rea l man in the eyes of the O ther; but G lind a points out that being "truly wild at heart " involves fully cornmitting oneself to the logic of one's fantasy-"figh ting for one's dreams," as she puts it. To do so one must adopt an attitude of ind ifference conce rn ing the Other's recogn ition. G linda's redefi nitíon of the film's titul ar coo cept spurs a revolution in Sailor. In response ro his vision of G linda, Sailor apologizes to the ga ng an d runs to Lula and Pace. The key gesture here is the apology, which sug
. gests that Sai la r has g iv en up the ideal of non-castration. Ra ther than
seeking complete en joyment through refusing any experience of lack,
Sailo r now recogni zes that one caJl discover enjoyment through lack .
oe can becom e wild at hea rt on ly through emb racing the famasmatic response to lack. When Sailor psye hically tu rns from his commi unen t to full enjoyment to a full commiun ent to f
1"
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our fadure ro sustain investment in the logic of fan tasy when ít touches the trauma tic real. 25 We see a related dynamic in the case ofLula. W hen she goes to pick up Sailor after his rekase from prison, Lula receives a call from her mother, w ho asks her Dot to go. Lula rej ec ts this iJea, and Marie tta asks, "Girl, what if 1totd you no t to go?" Marietta raises hcr voice as she says this, and we see a close-up of her face as she screams into the phone. Th e film cuts to Lula, w ho says, "Marnrna, if you get in the way of me an d Sailor's happíness, rll fucking pull your arms out by the roots! " and slams down the phone. This exchange ma rks Lula's first opcn re jection of her mother, and Lula 's wo rds themselves ind icate her w ill ingness to break the bond that exists bet wee n them . Even though Lula isn't li terally threatening to pull Marietta's arms "out by the roots," this way of putting her rejection alludes to break ing the hold that her mother h
\VII D "T
~FAn
12
their trauma tic, real dimension-being "trul y \V ild at hea rt," as Glinda puts it-th ey aba ndon their own isolati o n from rhe wo rld. I n doing so, they change thcir world and demand a similar tran sform ation in the spectator as wel!. Ironically, Lynch suggesrs that we can come to see the connection between ou r pri vate fa ntasy and th e external world-their speculative identity-through a d eeper imm ersio n in th e fantas)' itse lf. To put it another way, we ca n see the link between ou r ex periencc in
SIX Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with A/e and
Identificatia n with the Object
the cinema and our experience outsiJe it only w hen we lmm e rs-c our selves wholly io th e former. According to this way of understanding the fi lm, Wlld at Hall'! re mains a scathing piece of social commentary, but it loses th e conscrva ti ve inAection that Lynch's own interpretation would giv e it. The film depicts a deg raded society where verbal assaults a nd extreme violcncc confront the subject at every turno But it allows us ro loca te the origin of this degrad a ti o n in the prcvalence of too much respec t for th e law rather than nor e nough . The filmic structure of Wild at Heal't thereby undermines the typical conser vative jercm iads aim cd at the Iice ntious ness of contcmporary cult ure a nd a ppropri ates their appea ls. Conscrva tism (as ad he ren ce to the law) becomes itselft he sou rce ofthe probl em. The onl)' freedom from the threats that popul ate con temporary society lies in the full emhrace of fantasmatic enj oymen t rathe r rh an the Jt tem pt to curb it.
Th e Contradidory Status of l auro Po lme r
Wi th Twin Peaks: Fire Wa1k with Me (1992), Lynch returned to the telc vision s e ri e~ rhat ABC cancelled afre r its secon d season. T h is seemed like a sa fe choice fo r Lynch : as wirh DU17e (1 984), the film had a built-in aud ie nce am ong t hose w ho watched the telcvision se ri es. U nfortu nate1 y, the film had a fate sim il a r to that of DU17e, a nd il avoidecl beiog a bo mb the m agnitude of Dune on ly beca use of the rela tively m eage r size of rhe budge t ($ ro mili ion in 1992 fo r Fire Wa1k with Me versus $4 2 mili ion in 1984 for Dtme). Even audie nces at Cannes who had embraced the excesses of Wild at Heart (1990) booed and hissed at the premiere of Fire Walk with Me. Ly nch's clecision to create a prequel rather th an a seque! and his insiste nce o n shooting the film from the perspect ive of the murde r victim in the series, Laura P almer (Sheryl Lee), had the ef feet, in the mind of many fans a nd critics , of retroactive1y ruining th e tel evisio n show they e njoyed . Fire Walk with Me beg ins w ith a t rau matic evmt that marks its break w ith the telev ision series th at shares its narne. The credi ts appear on a snowy telev ision screen, a nd as the camera pulls back to re veal rh at we've h<.: e n seeing a telev ision sc reen w irhout a ny pictur e, a wom an sc re;l m~, fll\ l l.1n ¡lXC; pIunges in to rh\; tdl'v isi, 111 . J--!l:rc. nnt onlv does th e
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LVI. , : lI
129
film reduce the television to a snowy screen tra nsmi tting nothing, but it also destroys it. The vi olent dea th of Teresa Ba nks (Pamela G idley) in this scene is simu ltan eous ly the violent d eath of me Twál Peak-- televi sion series. The opening of Flre f,fla1k with Me thus a nnounces that the prequel to the series will be fu nd amcntally diffe rent in structure and theme. The difference manifests itself most clirec tl y in the perspective from which we experience the town of Twin Pe;¡ ks. In the television seri es, Lau ra Palme r serve s as a structuring absence that organizes the desire of the other characters and the spectator (who wants both to understand Laura and to fin d the solution to her mur der).! Her dcsire is the im possible object, th e objet petit a: the series fol lows th e investiga tion of FBI Special Agent D ale C ooper (Kyle ~1ac Lachlan) into Laura's murder, but the actual focus for Cooper and viewers is Laura he rsel f, specifically w hat she desired. The investiga tion leads C ooper to all of Laura's friend s, acquainta nces, and lovers, yet leaves viewe rs in the da rk about the location of her desire. Each character thinks tha.t she or he ha s a pri vileged io sigb t in to Laura's de sire, but no one offers an adcquate answcr. She remains, even after the solution of her murder, él myste ry to be sol ved. lnsofar as sh e exists just outsi d c ou r g r;¡ sp, she embodi es th e impossible object. T he series focus es on L;¡ ura because she seems to represent pe rfecdy the p red ominan! fanta sy of feminini ty. She is popu lar, sm a rt, gene rous, attract ive, and sexy, yet she retains a sense of in nocence. Sh e occu pies a cenrral place in the fantasies of the rn en (and wornen) of Tw in Peak s, wh ich has th e appea.ra nce ofbei ng a m ythicaUy perfect American small to wn . Lynch places Laura and her desire at [h e center (lf the series and the film to ex plo re the fa ntasy structure that conti nues to shape A meri can society. In Fire Walk with Me, Lau ra continues to embody the im possihlc ob ject, but the d ifference between the series and film resides in the loea tion of this obj ect. Where the series lea ves it perpetually ou t of reach, the film allows tb is absent object to beco me presen t. Rather than re maini ng a mystery that we can desirea nd fan tasize abou t, Laura Palm er becomes a fully reali zed cha racte r. Acco rding to Michel Chion, her character, in cont rast w ith the other characters in the fi lm, see rn s real. He says, "I n th is 'vvorl cl of cha racler types, rhl' " n..: fl gll n.: whicn ord i narily would be tre;¡ teo li ke an image-objl.'cl í, 1.,11 1r.1 1\lIl1l<' r, and yet it is her charac ter which Ly nch wis hc.:d tll l'n "' II ! ¡" d'":1 dll l ¡t:I I ~ i C)ns,"2
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1111
I MPO~S IIH(
OAY I O I Y"'C II
Th is tb ree-d im ensional po rtrait stands out all the more vi hen we con tras t it with the way that rhe television se ries treat!> Laura. Through the de picti on of La ura Palmer in the fil m, Ly nch subjec ti vizes the im possihle ohjec r-cause of d csire, and he allows liS to experi ence from the perspec ti ve of rhe object itsel f. P ut a nothe r way, the object-cause of desire in this fi lm cannot be regarded merel y as an ob ject as it can in m ost o ther fil ms. This reve rsal ma rks th e raoical inno vation of Fire Wa1k wlth Me and mak es it Lyn ch's m ost im po rtant and original film. W here Ly nch's oth er films pe rmit a m omen tary encou n ter witll th e impossible obj ect, tb is fi lm constru cts Ollr expe ri ence through it. T he im possible act occurs throughout the experie nce of wa tching the fi lm . T hrough its deploym ent of th e fa ntasy surrounding Laura Palm er, rhe fil m places us in the im possi blc perspective of tbe object within this fa n tasy. Fro m this perspective, w e g rasp tbe specula tive ide ntity between subject and obj ect. W ha tever Jiffercnce we w ant to attribu te to the impossihle object disappea rs in the closcd circuit of this type of iden tity. In the act of experiencing fro m the perspective of the im possi ble object, we do not sim ply come to recogn ize th e objecti fi ed woman as "a coherent pe rson ."3 Mic hel C hion 's cla im that Lynch port rays Laura as a t hree-dim en sion al cha racter doe~ not go far enough. J would arg ue instead tha t Laura is a fully rcali zed subject in rhe film insofa r as we see the hole inside her. At the core o f her sub jectivity ex ist~ a fund amen tal emptiness, a nd no one in the fil m is able to relate to her or COll11ect with he r because of m is emptiness, Even though La ura occu pies the posi tion 01' rhe ta nta sy object, she doesn 't fi no any fulf1 l1 men t or sensc of identity fr o m the role. She em bodi es the ideal of contempora ry Ameri can fcmale beau ty, yet she de ri ves no enj oyme n t fro m the positi on d1at he r attractiveness allows hcr. W hat stands out abou t he r is prec isel y her in abi lity to find any of the roles available to her sarj sfying. She moves throug h a v;u iety of roles hornecoming queen, gi rl friend of a football star, whor e, drug user, m eals-on -wheels volun teer, and so on-but cannot full y iov est herself in aoy of them. She inhabits each brieAy an d easi ly shifts to another, even w hen this orher role cont raclicts tb e earl íe r oo e. She can, for in stance, mock her seeret love r James (Jam es Marshall) de risivel y one in stan t, and an instant later gen uinel y ex press love fo r bim. T he fi lm does not prese nt thi s type of acti vity as an indi catio[l o f Laura 's hr poc risy: she doesn' t inbabi t one identi ty and Ihl' lI h YPllcrí li c dl), fc ign th at she
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inhabits anothe r. Her ~ubjectivity is an em ptim:~$ th al remains irred uc ible to an y ide ntity.4 Lynch con veys the em ptiness of Laura 's sub jectivity th rough dle perfor ma nce o f Sheryl Lee, whom criti ~, ha ve rig htl y applaurl ed for her portrayal of La ura. N ot ooly does Le(! movc almost instantaneously from the attitucle of the spiteful vamp ro the lov ing girlfri end , but she does so in a wa y that m ak es clear that beneath the differcnt identities is a void rathe r tha n a coherent personal ity. She destroys the fantas y im age that fán s of the telev ision series bring to the film, rev cal ing that Laura does not really ha ve the hidden allure that others im agine he r to ha ve.) This becomes visible only beca use Lynch immerses us fully in thc fanta sy from her perspecti ve. Lee's performance illustrates that the inadequacy of the idenLiti es avai lable to he r is not the rcsult ofL:lUra's fu llness of characte r that can not be so narrowly confined but instcad results from él fund amental ab sence. The object at the ccnter of our most profound cultural fa ntasy has an em ptincss where th e fantas )' posits a fullness . When La ura adopts an id enrity, the absence transfonns into an ilimo ry pre scnce thar can deceive other characters bu t not the spec tator. Lynch shoo ts (hese transfo rmations specifically to make us awa re of them . T his becomes m os t striking in two scenes, one involving her boyfriend Bobby (Dana Ashbrook) near rh e beginning of the film and the othc r involving James near me end . On the fi rs t d ay we see La u ra, she has sex c1 and esti nely with James at school w hi le Bobby sea rches for her. W hen he fi na lly sees he r walking hom e, Bobby accnsts La u ra fo r disappearing anJ d emands to know whe re she was. A look of con tempt comes ove r Laura's face, and she says, "1 wa s standing righ r beh ind you, but )'ou're too dumb ro tu rn around," and then says ro her frien d D onna (Moira Kell y), "If he turnccl around, he might get dízzy." As she speaks, Laura begins to chuckle, and Bobby resumes his q uestioning: "Wh ere we re you r l'm not k id ding around. W ho were you with? " Rather than appease him , La ura simply tells Bobby to "Ge t lost." Bu t when he threatens ro break off their rel a tionship, she undergoes a com plete transfo rm aLion. H er mocki ng look disappea rs, and she Wlres at hi m w ith a half-srn ile "nel glazcd look . She says, "Come o n, Bobby. Come cm. Come fllI.'· Thi~ c ""n~t. ,) r!ll:a rt ¡:.J Ic viates Bobby's wor ry, all()wing h im !o wall-. .1\\';1). 11' 'I'ping ;!rll llnd w ith excitement an J professing h i ~ gn::I! lo\( 1"1 111" I
13 2
TH' IMPOSS I ULl OAV IIi 1 YNC 1I
What stands out about this ~ccné is the posture that Laura ado pts af te r her change of heart. Tbe look tha t she gives Bobby is no! w hat we would expect: rather than looking directly into his eyes to consolc him , she sta res straight ah ead at his chest, ncver once mak ing e)'e con tact with him. Lync'h shoots the conve rsarion in a standard shotlreve rse shot manner that mak cs dea r m e seem ing misalignm ent of her look. This look testifies to Laura's absence of personality. It is almost as ifshe ca nnot look i.nto Bobby's eyes because she has no coherent position w ithin hersel f from w hich she could mak e normal intersubjecti ve con tact with another pe rso noT his absence of personal ir)' colors the content of her consolation. Shc doesn't tel l Bobby w here she has bec n or even tha t she loves him. She sim pl y repeats the mea n ingless p h rase "come on." At the mom ent Laura appears to be rcad y to re"eal hersclf to someone, she reveals instea d that she has nothing to rev ca l. The later scene w ith James follows a rem arkably simil ar traj ec tor)'. After James exp resses h is cles ire to save L a ura , she slaps him and pro c1aims her con tem p t for his sentimenta lity. S ut again she u ndergoes a n instantaneous transfo rm ation and takes James into her coofidcnce: "You don 't ev en kno w m e. T hcre are things about me ... Even Donna J OCSl1 't kno w m e." W hi le saying this, sh e looks over Jam es's head, not into hi s eyes. Whcn she fin ally looks d own and makes eye contact, it is n ly to in form hi m that she isn't there. She ~ay s , "Yo ur La ura has d isap pea red." James tries to com fort her, but she again changes her attitude, giving him the gesru re of the m id dle fi nge r an d say ing wit h di sdain, "1 th ink you wanl to take m e home now. " Each Lim e that Bobby o r James tries to conoect Wilh her as a coherent person, she responds by sho\-ving them-anJ us as spectato rs-th at she has no such id entity w ith which to conn eet. As a pure void, she lacks the symbolic anchoring tha t other characters in the film bdievc th ey huye. The cultural fantasy su rro un ding someone li ke Laura Palmer cle pends on u belief in her pl enitudc. Sbe inspires male (ancl fem alc) d rea ms beca use she seems to be th e perfcct woman and to embody a m ysterious knowledge of [he ultimate enj oyme nt. But benea th this im age of perfection Pire Wa1k with Me reveals not just a fl awed realí ty, but an em pti ness. A fl awed L aura woul d nOll rish the m ym by h umaniz ing the object, nnu it wOLll d all ow us as spectalors to red compassion for he r. Bur a n I·m !,! ), Lnura Ie:wes the specta tfl!" nI) stl ch o u Lier. A nd yet, Lomra i ~ Ih, t 11 1T .d ligur<; thmug h w h id, Wl· l' llg.lgl' Ihe fil m. In cloi ng j
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133
so, we id enti fy not w ith her as a substantial char acter but w ith her as an emptiness, expe riencing the impossible perspecti ve of the absent object. Lynch is not sh attering th e cen tral Ame rican cu ltural fantasy bu t cle manding th at we endure the objective position w ithin it. A conve rsation between Laura a nd Donn a early in the film reveals Laura's lack of anchoring and her awa reness of it. Don na ask s Laura, "Do you think if you were falling in space you would slow clown after a while or keep going fa ster a ncl faster: " La ura responds, "Fa ster ano faster. For a long tim e ydu wouldn't feel anythi ng. Then you woulo burst into fire-forever. And th e angels wouldn't help you, 'cause they've all gone away." The mise-en-sd: ne here add s to the idea that Laura is falling through space: during the entire conversation, shc líes drooping over the arms of a chair in her parents' living room, whích gíves her the appearance of floatíng in air. Just a fte r D onna asks ha question , Lyn ch ineludes a cl ose-up of Laura as she gulps, registering her awarencss ofher statu s as a subject. The image ofthc gul p registers emptincss in a way that no sign ifie r ca n, suggest ing it rathe r than tryíng ro name it. T his exch ange anti cipates remarkably the path that Laura follows in the film. Unlike D onna, Laura has nothing to slow her down or stop her from falling; she exists without any exte rnal authority that m ight stabili ze her. The emptiness of Laura 's subjectiv ity stems from the contradictions that her position as the im possible obj ec t-cause of desire forces her ro live out. She grasps the illusory nature of e
134
1 li t' IMI'Ob51Ull IIA VII.! ni l~ (; 1I
trac k ing shot, \Ve se e he r walking to school down the sid ewalk of an idylli c neighborhoo cl with leafy trees hanging ove r the sidewalk ancl perfcct g rec n lawns. She hold s her hooks crad led against her ch es t, a posture suggestive o f schoolgirl innocencc. She goes by the house ofher best fríend Donna to pick her up on the way ro schoo1. J n 1ddition to th e vísuals of this scene, the sou nd trac k plays the sentimental "Twin Peaks Thcme," w h ic h contrihutes to the id ea li zatio n of La ura. Lynch uses the conjunction between th e visual a nd a udí o tracks to buil d up the ideal that will quickJy tu rn in to its opposite. Very soon after arriv ing at the high school, Laura betrays this id eal iza tion : she leaves Donna and snorts cocaine in a bathroom stal\. The traj ec tory of this sequence aims ve ry explicitly to esta blísh La ura in the role of the id eaJized high school girl and subsequently und errnin e this im age. W h at the sequen ce shows is not that Laura ís rca lly a d rug user and n ot an innoce nt school g i rl; she ís both at th e sarne timc. Jn the figure of Lau ra, rhe fan tasy of th e pu re virgina l wom an coin ci des with the fanta:;y of the licenti ous anu sexuall y a vail ~lbl e wom an in order to reveal h ow both fanta sy figu res are ulti m ately tbe sarne. Fire Wa1k with Me takes liS so far into the p rcdominan t fan tasy thar we see the dual nature of ies a bj ect. T hi s is precisely th e recogni tion tha t patri archal id eo logy w il! not all ow and that rhe patria rcha l su bject cann ot tolerare: to see th e speculat ive íden tity of these two figu res is to see im purity even in the u ltim ate pu ri ty, anJ vice versa. Slructu ra lly, both lhe vi rgin and thc who re occ upy rhe S
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lationship between these two types offantasy. It reveals their intcrdepe n dence aod ul timate identity.6 The latter film ev iscerates aU the distinc
g ional Burea u C hief Go rdon C ole (D
tions that our fantasies typically enact and th riv e on. The faotasy of the ideal and the fantasy ofthe nightma re remain pleasurable for the subject
and , second, cin cma tic convention dictares t bar a caprion would be useo in this insta nce to id enti fy lhe phlc e whe re th e bod y is fl oating, not the nam e of the vic tim he rsdf.7 Th i,s mino r roying w itn con ve ntion o n
only insofar as they remain distinct. This is why Pire Wa1k with Me-and its depiction ofLa ura Palmer in particular-is so disturbing. By filming r.ire Wa1k with Me fr om the perspeotive of the subjectivized impossible object, Lynch offers us the opportunity to identify with it. In the act of doing so, we would recognize the identity of the ideal and the nightmare. Tb is is a recogn ition that Laura herselfmust make along with us as spec tators , a nd it marks the possibility of an ethical subjectivity.
Lyn ch 's part- a nd me use of an id en tifyi ng caption itsclf, which sug gests docum enta r y authenticity-st:Ives to emphasizc [he status ofTe resa Banks here. Teresa Bank s hecom es rhe absent ohject-cause of oe sire, a nd the enrirety of the fi rsl pan of the fil m focuses on in vestigating her. He r absence opeos up other myste ries, but she remains at the cen ter ofthe film .
The Hostility o f Deer Meadow
Whe reas the second part of the fil m sub jectiv izes the impossi ble ob ject, the fi rst pa rt leaves th is object com pletely ~lbse n r. He re, Lync h con structs a world o f d esire in w hich every im age a nd situation seems
Once L a ura Palmer appears thirty minutes into Pire Walk with ¡'.,fe, the form of th e film undergoes a dramatic cbange. After the murder ofTe resa Banks that opens the film, Flre Wa1k with Me opeos into a worlld of surfaces io which we neve r unravel the myste ries that these surfaces seem to hide . Ev c l1 for those who have seen the televisioo series, the first part of the film retains a sense of impe nerrability. From the opcn ing scene depicting Agent C hester "Chet" Desmond (C hris Isaak ) ar resting sex ily atti red wome n outside a school bus of scream ing children to Da le Coope r's discove ry of "Let's Rock " w ritten across me wind shiel d of C het's aba ndoned ca r, the even ts that occu r he re d efy explana tion w ithi n the terms th at ch is part of th e film itself offers. It is only when we view it throug h the len s of the secon d part- the world of fantasy- th a t it begin s to m3 k e more sense. After the familiar o pening shot of the "Welcome to Twin Pea ks" sign , th e second par t ofthe film begins wi th the irnage ofLaura Palmer. Subsequentl y, Laura d ominates this part of th e film, appearing in al most every scene. T he impossiblc object appears as a prcscnce. In con tras t, th e first part of the fi lm begins with the murder of Teresa Banks and a shot of he r body w rapped in pla stic and floating on a river-the sacrifice of th e p ri viJ eged object constituting it as J n absence. L ynch emphasi zes th e constitutive role ofTeres:l Ba n ks in rhis $cction th roug h the unusual use of a ca ptio n. W he n w!.: '1; 1; Ihl' 1 1():IIIrI~ hlld Y.:l ca ption stating "Tcresa Ban ks"
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threatening because the cha racters (and we as specta to rs) see it w ithou t a n y fa ntasmatic de pth. W hat we sce in the fi rst part of th e film, the di lap id ated and hostile to w n of Dcer Meadow, Co ntrasts negatively with
the p ristine and hospitable town ofTw in Peaks. A:; David H ughes puts it, "Lynch gave th e town a sh ad ow self in Deer Meadow, w ith its cor rup t and bc llige rcnt police for ce (contrasting wim thc Twin Peaks she r iff and his depu ries), a diner with
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threat irnplied by the sign and by Carl's loud and a ngry grurnbling in
e njoys- the code for its own sak c, Thc.:n: is, strictly speaking, no reason
side. Carl initially pereei ves ancl is perceived b y lh \! O rhe r as a th reat , a n
for it except enjoymcnr.
attitudc that characterizes a world of desire. Thc absence of a fantasrnaric dirne mion tú th i~ w orld creates a sense
cu rs in the act of signification o u ri ng Lhis pa rt o f rhe film. Because Cole
of distance betwee n the spectator and all the charactc rs, ev en the hero of
cannot h ea r well, he screams w he n e ng aging in conversation, neve r
the first part of the film, Agent Ch ester Des m a nd . T hough the film
once talking in sc rl.'a ms dra w o ur attention-and
Cole's near-total deafness fu rthc r acccntuatcs the enjoyment that oc
aligns us as spectators with Chet because he heads the in vestigation, it
the :tttention of the other cha racrcrs in the film-not to wa ro what he
also alienates u s fr o m him when we see his bc ha vior. He mirrors the
sa ys but to wa rd the exaggeratecl ac t of speak ing itse!f. C ole fits per
threatening posture that others Jemonstrate to him, going so far as ro
fectly within the wo rld of d esi re beca use he ex ists for us as spectators on
twist the nose of a hostile dcputy in the Deer Meadovv she riff's office.
the .leve! of the signifie r rathe r than on the leve! of th e signified. In this
What's more, he arnuses himself at the expense of his na'iv e cow orker,
sense, h is d ea fness corresponds di rectly to h is prodiv ity for using ob
Agent Sam Sta n ley, w ho evinces no hostility toward him. At H ap's
scure and unnecessary codeso
Diner, we see a shotofChetlooking atSam's arm holding a cup of coffee.
The senseless e nj oyment o f significatíon itsclf ex tend s beyond Gor
He then asks Sam for the tirne, knowing that Sam w ill turn his wrist in
don C ole to other characters in th e first part of the film. At Hap's Diner
stinctivcly in order to check his w a tch, which would cause him to spill h is
where T e resa Ban ks worked, Cheste r Des mond and Sam Stanl e y ques
coffee (and this is what occurs). Through the d epiction of this other wise
ti o n Ire ne (Sanclra K inder), the hostcss. D uring the ir conversation,
insignificmt action, the film shows us that even rh e hero partakes of the
Ire ne bllilds up th e dcsire of the in ves tiga rors (and the spec tator) by
generalizeJ hostility in th is world. D istance separates us from e very
creating the id ea th at the re is somcthing to be known when there is ac
cha racte r, just as it sepa rates the characters from each other. The world or desire that Lync h consCructs is a world in which sub
ory a bou t the kil ling o f Tere sa Banks, bu t he r th eo ry is simply thal " her
jects expe ri e nce the ir al ienation in the signifie r w ithout the res pite o f
death w as wh at you 'd ca ll a freak acciden t." Jren e e ven ad o pts this sa m e
fantasy. Subjects exist on the leve! of the signifier alone. As a resul t,
tac k w hen tak ing th e age nts' food orde r. She asks the m , "You want to
tual ly nothing. S he te mpts C het and Sa m by hinting tha t she has a the
an idea is encoded for no reason othe r than fo r che slmple act of encod
h ea r abollt o ur specials r" W he n th ey n od, she contin ues, "We don 't
ing itself. This is becausc the act of encoding-the act of p rodu cing a
h ave any."
signifie r-is the only type of e n joy ment th
sh e knows w il! not be sa ti sfied; she c reates a desire knowi n g that the re
w o rld. Gord o n C ole uses a d a nci ng w oman, Lil (K imberly A nn C o le),
is nothi ng-no-th ing, th e objet petit a -that could sa tisfy ir.
In both of these cases, Ire ne d eliberate1y crea tes a d esire that
as acode to explain the Teresa Banks case to A gents Che t Desmo no
One of the patrons ae Hap's intc rrllpts the agents' inte rview o fI rene
and Sam St
with a statement that functions in the way that Ire ne's statements do.
formance , C het deciphe rs the code w ith Sam. A mong othe r things, he
Fro m a ra bie across the di ne r, the man says in
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raised voice, "Are you
te!ls Sam tha t G ordo n Co le has indicated th e local a uthorities wo n 't be
talk ing abo ut that little girl that got murdered? " Ljke 1rene 's commcnt
cooper:uive, that the sheriff's unde is in a federal prison, that the case
Lhat she has a theo ry about the killing, this question contains withi n itrhe
wiU involve a great d cal of legwork. The problcm w ith this coding ane!
prom ise of sorne re vela ti on. But w hen Chet asks him if he knows any
decoding is that n one of this informa tion requircs a cocle in the 6 rst
thing about the murder, the man responds, "1 k now shi t from shinola," él
place. If, as som e viewers of the film postula re, Cole w as wo rr ied about
response thatdea rly tell s nothing a mI reveals that th e m a n k nows noth
his hahit of spcaki ng loudl y, he co uId
ing (even as it seerns to promisc thar he docs kno w som eth ing). T he man
ha ve simply w ritten th is informatio!1 str;lig h tt()rwardl y in a repo n
subscq ue nt! y repea ts h is o r igina l ljuestiq n , b\lt C he t ignores him th e sec
or note ro C h et and Sam . N nth ing
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Meadow, the sec rct is on the surface. There is no depth here, just the de sire that w il! not fit inro t.hci r lacking dialogue."9 Both this old man at Hap's and Irene resemble C ordon Cole insofú as all [hree use [he signi fier [O crea te a sense of mystery wh ere non e exists. The world of d esi re that Lynch crea tes in Pire Walk with Me is oot a world where enjoym en t sc:e m s completely absent. T his distinguishes Pire Walk with Me from three subsequent fi lrns, a1l of whieh foeus entirely on the extreme dissatisfaction that predom inatesin this realm, in the experience ofthe social reality without recourse to fantasy. In this film, Lyneh revea ls that a certain kind of enjoyment is possible w ithout fantasy. Though, as Laean puts it, "the signifier is what brings jouis sanee to a halt," there is also a eertain jouissance that correspond s to the act of signification itself.IO The characters in the first part of the film ac ces s thi s type of enjoyrnent, even though their world laeks the enjoy ment that derives from fantasy. The presence of this enjoyment of the signifier itself gives the first part of the film a ¡jense of mystcry. This senseless en joyment of sense-making crcates the impression of hidden depths and a sec ret knowledge , but as long as we remain w it hin th e world of desire, the seeret is ineffabl e. O ne could watch the firs t th irry minutes ofFire Walk with Me on its ow n m ultiple times and never solve its mysterics beca use it creates m ysteries th at exist for their Qwn sake. It is on1y when the film mov es to Twi n Peak s and the worle! of fantasy that we can fill in the gaps of the wo rld of desire.
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Incest as the Fanta smatic Solution One of the ehief compl aints about F¡re Walk with Me is its lack of coher cnce, the disconnection between [he first and second parts of the film . Jeff Johnson notes that "the aesthetie integr ity o f the narrative in Pire Walk with Me is seriously Aawed ,"11 and eve o a proponeot of the film li ke M ichel C hion admits th at "formally, the fi lm does not suceeed in joining togethc r all its disparate elements."12 Bu t whe n we understand the two parts of rhe fil m as con tras ting worl ds of desire and fantasy, this incoherence disappears, anel \Ve can see ho...\'" t he sccond pa rt of tbe film provides a fantasma tic solution to tbc qu~stin n rh.\t tht: iirsl part poses. The story of Laura Palmer's bst o a)'s .. IIClw\ 11', 1" " 1.11.(' M' n se of the murder of Teresa B:JO ks an o dI!" d i\;'ppu,"II 'I' Id ( iI.'\tc-r Dc~mo nd . Lynch u~cs the rurn rn t ht 1. IIII.I\ y \VIII Id l. .r "l"" 111 I \ ,d·t·, tI! " '(pose the
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structural conditions und crl ying Ihe oppressive and violent social rea l iry represe ntee! by Deer Meado w. Where the d eployment offanta.~ y in Eraserhead (1977) reveals the sac rifiee at the origin ofcapitalist reproduction, in Pire Wa1k with Me it illus trates the invisible forc es that cre He a hostilc soc ial reality. Beeause fan tasy narra tes th e oissatisfaction of rhe social rea lity to render it satisfying, it has the ability to ex pose what our ord inary ex perience of this reality obseures. The sccond part ()f Pire Walk with Me, the e1aboration of the fantasy wo rle!, expla in s w hy place s like Deer Meadow are so threaten ing and why wom en like Teresa Banks are murdered. But the fantas)' ha s this explanatory powe r only i050fá r as L ynch foll ows it to its end point. Just on the \evel of the film's na rrative alone, the faotas)' world of Twin Peaks sol ves the mystery o f Teresa Ba nks' murder in a very straightforward way. Through Lelano Palmer's fl ashback, we lea rn that Le1and (Ray Wise), inhabited by BOB (F rank Silva), killed Teresa Banks after sh e set up a sexual rendezvous w ith hersel f, L eland, and two girls, Ol1e of whom turns out ro be Laura. Lynch shows Leland wa lking to the m otel room, and as he turns a co rner he sees Laura aDd Ronette Pulaski (Phoebe Augustine) si tting on the bed talking. Before we sec him retrear, Lynch intersperses a brief c1ose-up of L aura laug h ing. LeJand paces away from the room, an d then Lynch juxta poses a c1ose-up of L eland 's pa ni cked faee foll owed by anothe r close-up of L aura laugh ing. W hen Teresa taps hi m on th e sho ulder, we see Lela nd bet ray his panic to he r by te1li ng her that he can't pa rticipate, that he "chickened out." Seei ng Leland 's a brupt reactio n, Teresa suspects that Leland k no ws one of the girl s, aDd, a fter learn ing about his rd ation to L aura, begins to blackmail him. Ir is at this point that he kills her. Th is information- that Teresa Bank s found out thar Leland was che fath er of Laura and threa tened to expose illicit activity to her and to the public-actua1ly tells us all mat we need to kno w to mak e seDse of most of the narrati ve com plex ities of the film. Li ke the death of Lau ra Palm cr later in the film, the cleath of Teresa Ban ks results di reedy from BOB's absolllte aversion to publicity. BO B kills only w hen the woman he is enj oy ing threa tens to expose his act iv ity. But th is is not al1 act of self-protection on BOB's part; as t h e embodi ment of a psychic force , he need not worry about bcing arresled or going lO jail. Pub liei ty does encl;tllgcr not BOB's Liberty so much :l S his mnd e of procuring en joYllll ·lIl .
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The ftlm prescnts BOB as a tra nseenuent force that opera tes through subjects w itho ut rega rd for the restrai nts that limit human behavior. Hi s a ppearanee suggests his status in the 11'lm: he has long stringy gra)( hair, a straggly bea rd , anu wide m alevo lent-I oo king eycs. The film 's form registcrs h is disturbing and unreal presenee. When Laura sees him looking fo r her diary hehind hc r bed, he a ppea rs in a series of quiek jump euts. Late r, when he is ra ping her, the fil m euts hack a nd forth hetween the im agc of BOB and Leland. His a ppearanees disrupt the form of the fi lm itself and the spce tator's pleasure in view ing. BO B's cnjoyment stems from illicit sexual and violent e ncounters. But he enjoys himsel f only as lo ng as his id entity rem ains sec ret, whieh is why Ly nch o nl y all ovvs the speetato r to see him for an extenued pe ri od of tim e in the otherworldly Red Room. He kills Teresa Bank s w hen she di seovers w ho Lela nd is and kills Laura when she recognizes the eonneeti on betwee n BO B and her father. In both ca ses, he re sorts to ki lling in ord e r to rem ain un exposed. Both BOB's resistance to public ity an d his ability to tra nsgress prohibitions suggests, 1 \vould argue, that he oecu pies a position outsid e the system of signification a nd its ru les. T h is is th e position of the exception al signil1 er, the sign ifi er of ex eeption, w hat psyehoanalysis calls the phallus. The phallus, accoruing to Lacan, "ca n pla y its role on ly when veil ed."'3 Any publicity threatens the poteney of the pha ll us because its powe r is illusory. Its posture o f autonom y m as ks its de pend ence o n the soeietal O ther. The positi on of ph alli c au th o rity carri es with it an illu sion of inde pend en ce. W e bel icve that th is au thority ru les thro ugh its greate r strength an d su peri o r force of wil! . But it rem ains fundamen tally de pende nt on th e su pport that the socia l o rder as a whole provid es for it. Colleetive obedienee instills ~111 air of invincibil ity in the fig ure of phal lie authori ty. rf it ever loses th is support, it loses the entirety of its pow er and disi ntegrates. But public su pport depcnds on no one's reeogniz ing the illusory nature of the pha llie autho rity's powe r. Such a recognition would rend er eoll ee tive obedience impossible, w hich is why the phallus requires the vei!. The assoei ation of BOB w ith the p hallus suggt:sts w hy M rs. Trem ond's g ranJ soo appea rs wearing a phnlli l m;l$k (a lIlask wilh ao e1 on g:lted nose). He ap pea rs at th e II1nl11 e lll~ illlhl Id 'l1 ",111'11 BOR is on che verge o f bci ng ~x posc d-for i m l. ff Il'!. W Ir l/! 1_11:'1lid \1"1" Laura in rlw m otel roo m w hen he \h ll w~ u p ¡", , 11 1 '11 ~.\' ·~l ,"d III} 11 111\ lI'vt:a ls 10 liS i ~2
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the precari ous statu s ofthe pha ll us. Benearh rhe m ask there exists not the powe rfu l fif,ru re of BOB b Ul i ll ~t: 1 licue powerl ess boyoT he image of Mrs. T rem oDd's g rand so n wearing lhe pballi c rnask illustrates that phallie power is nothi ng bUl lhe m as k. q T h roug hout m e fi rs t pan of the fi lm, BOB rem ains a hidden for ce, fun ction in g undeteeted throug h Leland. But tbe tu rn to fa ntasy in the seeon d part of th e fil m exposes th e phallus and un de rmines ¡ts power. r11 fantasy, the pha ll us becom es visible as the figure that enjo)'s without re striction , the fig u re able to aeeess lhe ulwp proacha ble obj ecL T h is occu rs through BOB's repeated sexual encou nters with L lU ra. In ord er to ae cess Laura, BOB lakes the fo rm ofbe r fathe r Lel and . Ofcourse, he coulu ha ve easily in habired some other m ale fig u re sueh as Bobby Of Ja mes, but he chooses Lcland. By inha bi ting L cla nd , he transgresses the ultimate law, the found ing law of society as Such- lhe p rohi bition o f incesto By d epie ti ng the rd a tionsh ip betwee n Lel and ancl La ura as the fan tasma tic answcr to the qu estions posed by the worl d of d esire, Lyneh id entifies fant:lsy as such with incest. Every fantasy is, in a sense, an in cestuous fantasy: in o rd er to p rovid e en joyment, fa nrasy must enact a scena rio fo r accessing the privi leged-that i5, the p rohibited--obj ect. T he subject fantasizes abo ut obulÍn ing someth ing off-limits, and (he model [or this objecl is lhe fami lial object that the symbolic law ba rs. But fan tasy rem aim bea rable for toe su bject on ly in sofar as loe su bject faüs to recognize its inccstuous dim ensiono Thc subjcct m ust deceive it self co nccrni ng the object's p rox imi ty and sec an object th at is too c1 0se as existi ng at a safe di stance. Throug b fantasy, th e subjecr accom plishes rhe impossi ble, en joying an obj ec t thar m ust be sirnultaneously close and distam. One of th e prim ary criticisms oEboth the relevision series an d the fi lm eenters on ch e depiction of inees t and speeificall y BOB's role in it. rn short, the d epiction o f ROB as !.he perpetuator of the incestuous rape of Laura lets her actual fath er, Leland Palmer, off th e hook. He be com es nothi ng bUl the staging g rou nd for th e acti vity of a supernatural force, not a rapist a nd k iller him sel f. Ir is D iane Hu m e George who gives thi s cr itique its m as t de tailed elabora rian. She says,
Peaks pa rtici pates in eXClIs ing ma Je violence toward wom en, m y thologizing their behavio r as possession by ev il forces that origin ate ()u tside oE th<: se! r. Sa fe ly relegated to supernatural and irresis tible
rWIN r EAK.',; I IR" WALK Wl t H ME
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status- even Coop cannot, in the end, resist the cosmic force rcpre sented and ernbodied by BOB-the "evil" does not reside in nor mal , troubled , trag ic hu man livcs, but in helplessly posstssed malc victims who Jo not know wh:lt they are doing and ca nnor be hcld responsihle. 15 According to thi s account, Lynch depicts natural beings as nothing but the victims of the "s upernatural." But thi s critique depends on a nai"vc interpretation of figures like BO B and the Man From Anothe r Place (Michael J. Anderson). If we are attentive, Fire Wa lk with Me actuaJly demonstrates that RO B a nd the Man From A nother Place function as structural rather th an superna tural forc es. Yes, BO B certainly acts through L eland, the ordi na ry man, but this in no way exculpates Le [ando He and other ordi na ry men are guilty for th ei r role in perpetuat ing the fun ctioning of the structure. 16 The turn from the world of desire to the worl d of fan tasy c1a rifies the structu ral role that the Red Room plays. In both wo rlds ofthe film , it occupies a tran scendent place w here the co nsrrai n ts of time and spacc don't apply (w hich is w hy Arro ie fHea ther G raham I can a ppea r to L l.U ra and tell he r about Da le C oope r before Annie has even met D ale). This transcenden t place exi sts because the syste m of signifiers always contains a gap that doesn't exist with in that system. T he system pro duces its own beyond in the forrn of the abse nce tbat ir ca nnor sign ify as a result oflan guage 's inability ro say eve ryth ing. T he role that Lh is ah sence pl ay s becomcs dear th roug h the film 's depiction of the Man From ~nother
Pl ace . The fantasy fill s in the gaps in our kn owledge about the Man F rom Another Place and offers a n expla nati on of the role that he pl ays (borh in the film and in the telev ision series). He appea rs fi rst w hen Agent Phillip Jeffr ies (D avid Bowie) brieA y shows up in th e Phi ladelphia FB I offi ce after hav ing disappea red for three years . Phillip telIs th e agents there about his exper ience in the room over the con venience storc, anu as he recoun ts th e expe ri ence, we see a se ries o[ images of this room , which contains th e Man F rom Anoth e r Place. Tbe fi rst word that we hear from him appea rs at the ti me ro he a sign ifi\'r w ithnut ;) sig ni fie d : "ga rmonboz ia." O ut~i d e of rhe Twin Pl'll/¡'( II n l VC r\C ', " ).\; 11 lOollbozja" is a nonsensical word , a wurd wit hllllt 1111 Illillg j lllll ) 1 1111 \\ fI language. though ir ha, ~rawn cd tn :lIIy 1111 11 1).".1 1111 ;; 1I 11:(II I!:!lI I 'lElIlg '(((1/1/ PnJkJ
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fans as to its lingui stic derivation. Bu r even within the term s of lhe film itself, the word has no d ca r conncetion (O w hat's go ing on. At this point in the fi lm , the word is apu re surfa ce for us as spectators and has th e effect of producing th e d csire fo r tbe absent sen se, which the turn to the fantas y wo rld provides. At the cnJ of the film after Lcland ha s kil!ed Laura, the M an F rom Another Place and MI KE confront BOB and Lel a nd. Together, the Man From A nother Place and MIK E rc peat the word "garmonbozi a," but this ti me it appears within a sentence, w hich provides a con tcxt for determining its meaning. What's mo re, the subtitles inelud e a transla tion of the word. Thc Man From Another Place and MIKE say to gether to BO B and L ela nd, "{ want al! my ga rmonboz ia ," anu the sub titl e reads, "{ want al! my ga rrnon boz ia (pa in and su ffering) ." W hen he hea rs this dc mand, 80B touches Leland anu th en makes a thw wing gesture with h is ha nd, after w hich él spl atte ring o fblood appea rs on the Roer. Now "ga rmonbozia" ha s a meaning and plays a elear role in the action of th e film. Here th e function of fantasy hecomes visi ble in a pre cise way: fantasy fills in the absence that ex ists on the level of rhe signi fi cd and gives th e signifie r a sense uf depth. T hi s scene within the fa n tasy not only defi nes w hat was for us a nonsensical term, bu t it aIso explai ns t he rd ations hip between the Man F rom A no ther Place and BOB that the n rst pa rt of the fi lm left com pletely a m bi gu ou~ . ' 7
The Struggle Between Life ond Deoth
The Ma n F rom A nothe r P lace defi es explana tion more than any othe r o f the m my strange cha racters in Pire Wa1k with Me . He d oes nnt resi de in the onJin ary human wo rld no r does he even make appearances there li ke BOB. We see him o nly in the otherword ly Red Room. His di minu tive size and seemi ngl y inex plica ble behav ior-h is unusu al eating hab i[s, bis dan cing, his strange ~tate m e nts-a ppea r to be nonse nsical fea tu res of the film, fea tures Ly nch ineludes for their ow n sake. But he on! y see ms nonsensica l because we as spectators aren't used to watchin g a fil m th at attempts to explore fantasma tica lly the stru ctures of the un conscious. T h us, the Man From A nother P lace and rhe film in gene ral ma ke sense onl y if we tu rn to th e insights of psychoa nalysis . Wi th in tlw !"nl1tasy world of Fire Walk with Me , we !carn much more abn ut tIl<" ~1.1I 1 "'''In AnOlher Place than. we do in the fi rst par t of the ! WI N "'A''o ~ II R/. WA I K WITH ME
1<5
film. Assistcd by the picture that M rs. Tremond gives to her, Laura en ters the Red Room and sees (he Ma n FrolTl A nother P lace and Dale Coopero The Man From Ao om er Pbce asks, "Do you know w ho 1 am? 1 am the arm and 1 sound like this." H e then makes a whooping sound by moving his hand back and forth over his mouth. W ith this statc ment, he identifies himsclf as a body part that exists disconnected from a body. The nonsensical wh ooping sound suggests his disconnection from the systcm of signification. When we later see MIKE without an arm and the Man From Another Place standing where the missing arm should be, this idea of tbe Man From Anothe r Place as the detached body part hecomes evcn morc cvident. According to Lacan·s understanding of subjectivization, part of the body detaches itself as a result of the body's submission to the signifier, which renders the body incom plete. The signifier imposes itsel f on the subject as a cut on the hody, and thi s detached body part becomes the li bido, the source of the dri vc in the subject. U nder the sway of the d rive, the subject seeks this d etached part of the body-"the part of himself, lost forever, that is constituted by the fact thar he is only a scxed living being, and that he is no longer imlTlortal.",8 In thj s light, we can unde r stand The Man F rom Another P lace oceupying the position of the li bido, the lost body part that institutes the drive in m e other characters. The drive that the Man From Another Pl ace institutes is the death drive, a drive that continually returns to and repeats the expe rience of loss. Because t he experience of 105s originates and continucs to info rm the drive, every drive, according to L aca n, is a death clri ve. He says, "the drive, the partial drive, is profoundly a d eath dri ve and represents in itself the po rtion of death in the sexed living being." '9 Fire Wa1k with Me shows the power of this death drive over the characte rs in the film; it is the ultimate source of all the acti vity that we see, though a compet ing force emerges through the fig ure of BOB. As a figure of phallic authority, BO B a ppears lO be an irresistible force . He inhahits Le1and Palm <.>r and engages in illicit sexual and vio lent activities wimout repercussions. But the end of the film shows us that even BOB, the figure of pnallic author ity. acts in response to the tvlan From Another Place and follows the dicta tes oí" rhe J eath urive . BOB inhabits L elan d not in o rd er ro dOlll in :lI l· hlll in ord cr to :l CCCSS rhe lost object th rough thl:" incestuml!> r("blillll wlli t I '111 1 111 Ih is way. the phaJlus serves the dri vc, eVcll a ~ 11 I' tllll ll lll. 11': 1".1 1\" 19 ,llId indcpcn
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dence. Lynch re presents [he coun te rintu itive nature of the primacy of me dri ve ove r the phallus through the aclOrs he has playing (be Man F rom Anotber Place and BOB, M ichael J. An derson is a dwarf and ap pears as a friendly, nonthreatening figure . Frank Silva , w ho plays BOB, towers Oyer Anderson and is the lTlost terrifying cha racter in the film . BU l afte r Le\and kills Laura, the de pendence of the latte r on the former becomes absolutely c1ear. In the Red Room , M fKE and the Man F rom A noth er Place face BOB and Leland (who hangs suspended in midair). W hen MIKE and the Man From Another Place demand their ga rmonboz ia from BOB, BO B seems to rcach into Leland, extract hlood from him (w hich is per haps Laura's blood), and splatter this blood on tbe Roor. AII along BOB has seemed li ke a figure of authority and power, but w hen he does the bidding of the Man From Anom er Place, he betrays that his activities merely feed the drive, allow ing it to continue to enjoyo This act of feed ing becomes li teral in the nex t shot. We see an extrem e c1ose-up of the Man F rom A nome r Pla ce 's mouth as he eats cream ed corn (w hich the film associates w itb enj oyment) off a spoon. Ea rlier, at the moment of Laura 's murder, we sce a brief shot of the Ma n From Anom e r Place laughing wi ldly. BOB's ac tivity doesn 't bring en joyment fo r BOB bim self, but it does all ow the Man F rom Another Place lo enjoyo If the Man F rom Another Place enjoys BOB's violence, he is J1üt me cause of it. Thc phallus represents an attem pt ro short-circuit the d rive, to obtain enjoym ent w ithout suffering ("rom the absence rhat cha racter izes the drive. I n T hc Indivisible Remainde/", Slavo j Zilí.-e k sees rhe phal lus as a response to m is absence. He says, "the Phi , tbe sig nifier of phal lic power, phall us in its fasc inating presence, merely 'gives body' to the impotence/inconsistency of the big Other."20 As lhe detached bod y part, the M an F ro m A not he r P lace represents the gap w ithin the Other, and BOB, as the pha llus, tríes to fill in this gap. Ziiek expbi ns furthe r the mo vem ent from the gap in the Othe r to the pballus, which is the move ment from the Man From A nother Place to BOB: The passage from S( A) to [he big P hi is the passage from impossibil ity to prohibitío n: SeA) stands for th e impossibility of the signifier of th e hig Olhe r, for the fac t that there is no "Othe r ofOther," that the fiel d of tlw ( )I her is inherentl y incons istcnt; and th e hig Phi "reihes" [his ill q)l I",',iI,t! ¡I Y¡ ri l O rhe Except ion, inro a "sac red ," prohibited/ un
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attainabl e age nt who avoids castration and is thus ablc "reaIly to en joy" (the primordia l Father, the Lad y in courtly love) .21 Th e Ma n From Another Place and BaR are locked in a struggle be tweeo absence and prcsencc, hetwcen an enjoyment based on circulat ing a round the lost object and an enjoyment hased on actually having this object. Trying lO have the ohject in the way that phallic power does is an at tempt to enjoy without lack . When MIKE pulls his truck ncxt to Le land ao d Laura in their car :lnd begins yelling at them, he aceusc~ Le landIBOR of trying to cnjoy illicitly. Though barel y audible aboye Ldand's revv ing engine, MJKE ~ays, "You stole the coro! 1 had it canned above the storc. Miss, the look on her face when it wa s opened. There was a cl oseness. Like the Formica table topoThe thread will be torn, Mr. Palmer. The thread wi ll be torn ." The bizarre nature of MIKE's rant suggests that Lynch obscures w hat he's saying with engine noi se in ord er to hide the fact that he ísn't saying anything-that MJKE speaks nonsense. But psyc hoanalys is renu ers this seemingly incoherent statem ent sensible. MJKE indicates that Leland's inccstuou s activity is a theft of enjoyment-a stealio g of the corn- anu that it cannot con ti nue beca use "the thread will be torn. " Phallic authority's effo rt to en joy without the tcaring of the th read , w ithout loss, inev itably fa íl s. The phallus neve r success fuIly possesses the priv ileged obj ect, hut m erel y engages in an end less pu rsuit of this obj ec t, a pursuit that results in the sati sfa ction of the dr íve. The struggle betwee n th e Man Prom A nother Pl ace and BOB ís the ~ truggl e between the death drí ve ancl li fe. Fire Walk with Me sh ows, following F reud, the prio ríty of dea th over life. It is the life force that perpetuates violence in the fi lm, not the death drive. T he phallus at tempts to preserve its conocction to the obj ect and to guard aga ínst 1055 , bUI the im poss ibility of possessing lhe object leads phallic authority to acts of dest ructiveness, acts that en d up serving the dcath urive. T he insight of the film into the rel atíonship between the death drive and phallic authori ty stem s from hmv it dcpiets th e stru.c ture offantasy. In our ordinary expericnce of social r~di ty, ph:Ll lie powcr has lhc illu sion of auto nomy; we scc its Ji srlays lit" P() II ' II ~y 1.lllIl:r dlfln its secret dcpenuencc, wh ich hewllll'\ app:m' l1l IHl ly 11 1 1.1Ji1d.Y. I.ylich ilrganizes !.he fi lm aroll nd lhe Clnl :lsy I)h,~l l . I _, lIlI,II·. illll C ¡'II II¡ '¡ ' "11y imrnc rses
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us in the fa ntasy that centers arOllnd her. Th.is has the effeet of making vi si ble the underlying structu re oCthe socia l order because she-or her d esire qu a object- is che absent center of that order.
Th e Master Exposed Shooting Pire Wa1k with Me f'rom tbe persp<:ctive of the im possible ob ject has the effee t of exposing th e de pe ndt'llce of pate rnal autho rity on this object that it d esp ises :md abuses. Lynch dis plays th is dependence by placing Lau ra a t th e ceo ter of the film and showiog fi g ures of pater nal auth ority constan tl y reacting to her. O ecupyi ng the posi tion of phal lie authority prov idcs a certain ki nd of en joyment foc the m an, but at the sam e time it st ruct ural ly dcp rives the ma n of access to fernín ine c n joym ent. Thus, no m aner how m uch power a pballic au tho rity has , it a lways experiences ¡ts lack of thi.s other type of enjoymen t. Thi s is vvhat we see in the case of BOB. BOB ra pes Lau ra Palme r-an J has done so si nce she was twdve years old- bccause he w an ts to expe riencc the fern inine en joyment tbat he imp utes to her. He wants to expcrience from her pcrspec tive. As Laura tcl ls Haro ld Smith (Lenny von Dohlen) a fte r she uiscovers tha t BOB has taken pages from b e r secret d iary, "H e wants to be m e, or he'l l kilI me." Ju st afrer Lau ra 1eaves Harold, we hea r BOB say to Lau ra, "1 wan t to taste th rough youe mouth," as the visua l track d issolves fro m " shot oEth e ceiling fa rr ro a sh ot of Lau ra to a shot of a red cu rta in. Laura experiences BOB's desíre to embody her and partake of the en joy ment he anríbutes to hef. T he pro blem is thar BOB-and phallic authority as such- cannot ever caprure this el usive en joymen t. As Serge André puts it, "Eve n if he has had sexual pleasure and givc n it to hi s partn er, he ca n never be sure ofh av ing posscssed he r, that is to say, ofh aving participated in th ejouú sance lh at is lzers. "22 In fact, the more that BOB has La ura, th e more he feels rh ar som eth ing escapes. T hi s is w hy he m ust kcep comíng back . Though he has had La ura sín ce she was twelve, he still longs to taste through hcr mou tll , not having yel success full y d one so. H er enjoy mem remains elusive for BOB beca use she herself doesn't possess it; it is an en joyment of the Other. According to And ré, "That the specifi cally feminine part o fjouissa1JCe is a rticulated at S(A), beyond the ph al li e contribu l io n madc hy her partner, means that a woman ta kes plea su re in h (r~df .l~ ('.her to hcrself."23 Bur BOB fa ils to g ra sp th is arrd
/ W/ N PfAKS: F IRE WAlK w /rH ME
149
thus cofltinues te bclieve that he can pin down Laura 's enj oy ment anJ posscss it. Lynch's elabora tion of the ul ti mate mate fa nrasy rhus has rhe effect of exposing the failure of phallic powe r. BOB's misundersranding about Laura's enjoyment manifests irsclf in rhe demand he addresses to her: "Fire walk wirh me," In Eluc Velvet (I9 86 ), Il/ifd at Hcal't (1990), and Lost HighwClY (1997), ji re provic1es an image of rhe ulrimare enjoymenr. The films depicr subjecrs bu rning wit\; enjoymenr or encountcring fire as they approach enjoym enr . Bur in each case fire n :presenrs enj oym ent from a male perspecrive, from the pcrspccrive of mate fanta sy. Feminine enjoyment cannor be reduced to an image-even one of fire. In Fire WaLk with M~, we don't see any instances offire, despire the film's title, because the film locates us within Laura's perspective, not rhat ofrhe mate who is fantasi z ing. This is an orher way in which rhe film thwarts the expecrations of spectators . As Michel Chion notes, "Thc film does not totally fulfil the contracr wirh the publ ic which is suggestcd by its title" beca use "rhe role of fire in rh e film is minimal."24 The absence offire in rhefilm is not simply an error on Lynch's part or an insignificant omission; ir revea ls that L aura doesn't enjoy in rhe way that the m ate fantasy expects ofher. H er enjoy menr remains enig maticall y presented within the film's mise-en-scene, leav ing us completely unsure w hcrher she en joys herself or whether she me rely feigns enjoym ent on occasion. The unce rtain ry of Laura's enj oyme nt introduces uJlcertainty into rhe lives of th e men w ho encounter it. T his occurs most conspicuou>ily w itb BOB, who returns ro L aura due to his inability to possess her w ith any certa inty. We see this happen on a lesser scale with Bobby, just a fter Bobby shoots and kills D eputy C liff H oward (Rick AieLlo) during a drug J ea!. Bobby panics after killing the depury (w ho was delivering the drugs), but Laura, hig h on cocaine, laughs uncontrollably at Bob by's panic and at the depury's death. W hile laughing, she claims, "Bobby killed Mi ke." Laura 's statement is manifestly untrue; both she and Bobby see plainly thar rhe dead man is not Bobby's friend Mike but a stranger. Nonetheless, Bobby becomes confused. He responds, "This isn't fuck ing M ike. Is this Mi ke? " Th e dou bt th al ente rs into Bobby 's mind here is the res ult of the uncertainry rhar 1.;l\Jr;l's cni oy rn cnt intro duces into the male psyrhc. La ura placcs dPllhl jl l H..I,I, y's l11 ind w herc there w;:¡s absolute ccrtainl)', ;I n.l ~ 11t" .\..,., ti 11', 11 1 di' I!lid,' II r ;1 di~rl ;¡y of cnjoymcnt.
110
TIl I
'M r ( . ~ ' '' I\l l U,,~ I II IY'" l'
The u ncertain status of Laura's cnjoyment lea ves BOB in the posi tion of seek ing som eth ing thar be ca n neve r koow if he has or noto As a result, BOB, rhe figure of phallic autho rity in rhe film, ends up bcing compl etely dependent on Laura. His nightly assaults do nar represcnt his agency but rather his lack of it. BOB spenJs the entire film reacting to L aura, attempting to inhabit her and experience w hat she experi ences. He ends up killing her beca use she defies his authority and insists on a mod e of enjoyment rhat ane cannot possess.
Accepting the Ring
T he ethical chall enge for Laura Pal mer in Fire Wa1k with Mc-and th e fundam ental problcm for the spectator-is not accepting her own sym bolic death. Throughout the fi lm, she c¡uickl y and courageausly em braces her own emptiness as a subject, anJ the spectator musr adopt th is position from the moment ofher en trance into the film . But w hat Laura resists acknowledging is the ernptiness of th e O th er. L aura's rclucta nce to see the nonexisrcnce of the Othe r ex plains both her attitud e toward Donna a nd, more importantly, her inabili ty to recogni ze her father as BOB. Throughout the fi lm, she ta kes solace in the idea tha r Donna is u n like her, that Don na actu;:¡lIy has a substan tive identity. When she sces Donna ado pti ng her Iifestyle and fall ing in to the void that she occu pies, this complcrely lr
151
engine so that Laura can barel y hear whar MlKE is saying. She only bc comes convinceJ vvben BOB becomes Leland during the sex act itself. Lynch shoots this scene in 3 way that conveys the trauma that the revelation has for Laura. We see BOB sneak into Laura's bedroom through an open window and begin to have sex with her. Sh\:: repeats four times. "Who are you?" during the sex act. After the fou rth time, we see a shot of Laura's face as a look of horror comes over it and she screams, follow ed by a reverse shot showing her father's facc w herc BOB's was. At this poiot, the screen goes completely black until it sho\Vs a shot looking dowo directly into a bowl of cereal (which has the ar pearance of vomit). The entire consistency of Laura's world seems to break dowo: the images lose thcir coherence and bccome blurry, the dock 00 the wal! io Laura's dassroom hegins to spin out of control, and so on. lo her room, the aogel disappears from the picture haoging 00 the wal!. Al! this chaos results from L aura's encounte r with th e lack in the Other. Secing her father as 1308, she can no longe r bclieve in the pristioe Other that has a substantive identity. No w she looks out into the Other and sees the same em ptiness that exists within herself. But the film does oot end with the trauma ofLaura's encouoter with the lack io lhe O ther. [nstead, the trauma actually becomes the basis for Laura's eme rgence as an ethical subject and her defiance of BOB. In this sense, the com plaiot tbat Laura is simpl y a victim of male fantasies misses the m ar k . According to Laura Plu mme r, La ura P al mer is nom ing but this: "Laura's traosgressions of social law-snorting cocainc and being a sexuaU y active tecnage r--o riginate in the abuse of he r fa ther. That is, Laura P
1"7
HI~ IMPOSSIOlL II/lVII' I YNI-: It
life. She marries herself to the dea th dr ive. T he ring has a structure al most cxactly like that of the dr ive: a closed loop organized around a central absence. In the act of tak iog the ring, the subject affirms and embraces absence, which undermines BOB's authority. But we imme diate1y see the cost of the impossib le aet: the embrace of the death drive costs Laura her life. When BO B kills Laura, he removes the ri ng aod places a lettcr under the nail of the fi nger that formerly held the ringo This gesture rcv eals in another way the difference between the Man From Another Place and BOB-or the differe nce between the drive and the phallus. Whereas the dr ive circulates around an absence, th e p'hall us attem pts to fill in th is absence-th e hole left by castra tiun with the materiality of the letter. Laura ca n accept the ring in the railroad car beca use she has reached the point where she no longer hopes. It is to this point that th e fantasy d epicted in Pire Wa1k with Me leads USo It allows us to experience the emptiness of both the object and the O tber. In d oing so, we escape the idea of an escape. When Laura puts on the ri ng, she no 100ger has any investment in ti fe, and BOB's hold over subjects d epends enti rely on their investment in life. As she had told James carl ier that nig hl, "There's no place lcft to go." The emb race of the d eath dr ivc is what BOB ca nnot tole ra te: it separates Laura from him ancl places her be yond his control, guaranteei ng th at he wi ll not possess her. Lau ra finds a solution here throug h the em brace of the dearh drive. T h rough th is act, she break s the huId that pballic autho ri ry has oves her and frees herse1 f as a subj ect. BOB kills h er almost as soon as she sli ps the ring on. BUl in the ioslant of he r im possible identification with the death drive, she achieves the eth ical positi on [ha t the film itself pri vileges. In this way, the fantasma tic dimensioo of Pú'e Wa1k with Me places an oncrous demand 00 the spectator. O ne must first see oneself in L aura, the impossible object, and then one must follow her d own the path of eth ical subjectivity. Ethics here means embracing the absence of a n outs ide, the recognition that "There's no place left to go," no else where w here we couJd imagine things are better. Adoptin g this posi tion, one finds the outside with in the inside, the infinite within the fi ni te . Or, as Hegel suggests in his an alysis ofCh ristiani ry, o ne recognizes t1J al tbe ki ngJo m of heave n is Main Str eel.
I\V ' ~¡
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fl U
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SEVEN Fiod ing Ourselves 00 a Lost Highway
The Fantasy of Sense After th e cr itical and popular failure of Twin Peaks: FiI'e Walk with ,Me (199 2 ), Ly nch took a long period of time off from feature filmmaking. H is follow-up fil m, Lost H ighwa y, did not appear until 1997· He spent much of th is tim e thin k ing through and explorin g possible ideas for a new proj ect-throwing ideas at th e wall, as he wüuld put ir.. W hen the right idea carn e, it carn e from the random phrase "lost highway," w hich appeared in the novel Night M oves by Barry G ifford (w ho also wrote the novel Wild at Hea,.t on w hich Lynch bascd his film). Struck by this phrase , Lynch proposed cowrit ing a screenplay wi th Gifford unrelated tO rhe novel. The film was their first collabol'ation as cowriters, and, despite G ifford's influen ce, it di d not rerurn to the l'ela tive clarity of Wlld at H eart (199 0 ) but continued dow n the path laid down by Fire Walk with Me . Lost H ighway is as d,ifficult to experience as Fire Walk wlth IV/e,
though fol' different reasons. On the \evc\ of ()u r immediate cinematic interaction with the film, it presents us w ith im ages so bright tbat we close our eyes or look away, and vo ices Sil di~lorfl·d thOI we wish we couId close our ea rs. These difficuhi t'" 1~· II'llll r . l r il y Il 1I pk l ~iln t though
they may be, become but rni nor bumps in the road whe n we con trasr them with th e interpretive clifficul tics (hat the fil m's narrative incoh erence--or seem ing incoheren ce -presen ts. As Anne Jerslev rightly points out, "Mo re th an Twi,l P,'aks: Pire Walk with Me, LOj"t Higlz w ay t.ak es the form 01" a rad ical departure from classical principies of coherence, un ity and d osure.'" Ir is tcmpting, on a first view ing, to chalk rhese diffic u lti es up to Lyn c1ú obscurantist proclivities and to concluele (liat the na rrati ve is uncon ventional just fo r the sake ofbeing unconventional , or that the point is sim ply th ar there is no point.' Bu t if this is the case, rh e n Lo"t Highway hard ly seems wo rth the 135 m inutes that a view ing req uires, let alonc any cfforts spcm in m aking sense ofit. This conclusi on seems ( O have been lhat of audiences and ([itics alike, most of wh om re jected Loj·t Highway, just as they did Fil'c Wa1k with M e) Even if the difficul ties of th e fi lm serve to coneeal som ething pro found in the film 's narrative, chey are not necessa rily \vorth the trouble. T he fil m's obscur ity, in that case, would sti ll not cl early be necessary. Th e on!y serious justifica ti on for the difficul ties of the film 's narrativc lies in rheir struc tu ral necessity. lLs cliffi c ul (ie~ derive From m ak ing ev i dent an und erlying logic of fantas y t1w t Ís operalive, thoug h certainly not ap parent, iD the fi lm il.: experiencc itsel f. Because the narrative of Lost High w ay b rings tbe logic o f fantasy out into lh e o pen, it necessarily strikes us as incongruotls, as a fil m w ithollt a narrative altogether. More than in Ly nch 's other fiLm, lhe d ivision of L ost Highway into opposing world s of des ire and fantasy uramatic tlly affec ts the sense of th e film. T he ch icf effect of this sepa raL ion is tb at the fil m docsn 't seem to make sense al al1. Fantasy, though ir is op posed ro "real ity," nonethe \ess provid es un un de rlyi.ng sup port for our sense of real ity. W ithout th is support, we can no longe r be su re of our bca rrng w ith in the social reali ty-ú ur sense o[ lhe m ean ingfll lness of that reality. The separation of dcs ire and fan tasy also makes cl ea r the way in w hich fantasy acts as a compensation for what (he social reality does n't provide. Fantasy pro vides the illu si on of del ivering the good s, bur Lost H ighw ay ultimately makes c1 ear that ir fails ro do so. [n this sen se, fantasy is not an escape from un unsarisry ing social realiry bULél way of rcpeating it. The sub jecr tu rus to fa nt.asy to eSGlpe lhe J eadlock of desi re bUl inev itably en countcrs th c dcadlock in a new fo rm oO ne fan tasi7.cs oneself a different per<;on, blll tlw trnurnul ic disrupti oo lhe imposs ible object-cause of
or
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I"II GHWAY
155
desire remains. Eve n in the aet o f accomplishing the impossib!c, one al ways returns ba ck ro one's starting point. The separation between fantasy and social reali ry in Lost Highway m:mifcsts itsclf mos t apparently in the transformalions that its protago nist unJergoes. He firs t appears as FreJ Madison (Bi ll Pullm an), later beco mes (while in prison awaiting execution for the m urder ofhis wife) someone entirely different, Peter D ayton (Baltha zar G etty), and thcn becomes Fred Madison again. In opting to have different actors play the characters ofFred Madison and Peter D ayton, Lynch establishcs a read ily visible distinetion between the expcriencc of desire w ithin the film ane! the experience of fanta sy.4 The transformation betwee n the two, whi ch occurs without ex planation, baffles characters within the film as we" as audiences without. \ Ve can grasp what's ha ppening in Lost H igh way only if we see the sudden transformation ofFred Madison into Pe ter Dayton as fantasmatic: Peter Dayton is F red Madison wi thi n F red's fan tasy. The entire scenario surround ing Peter D ayton that follow 5 in the film thus becomes the elaborated structure of this fantasy. 5 Through the w ide visual divergence between the world ofFred and the world of Peter, Lynch establishes them cinem atically as worlds of dcsi re and of fantas )', respeetively. F rom the first shot of the film , Lynch g ives Fred's worlJ a sense of the unknown. Rarher than beginning w ith an establishing sh ot, the film opens with a cl ose-up of F red, whieh in aug u rares the mystery. N one of the subseque nt shots hcl p to cl arify things, and the entire d epicti on o f F red 's world lea ves the speClator without any sense of rime o r place. F red 's wo rld lacks the visual fu ll ness, rhe depth, of Peter's; there is a sense of emptiness he fe, wh ich Ly nch esta blish es through the use of a m inimalisr décor an d subdued lighting in F red's house. This emptiness proviJes the space for d esire something secms lacking, thus im pel ling th e m ovements of desire. The desiring subject and the desiring spectator emerge through the con frontation with an absence of meaning, and this absence is ubiquirous in the first part of Lost H ighway. By minimiú ng rhe deptb of field in the shots of F red's world , Lynch creates a sen se of Aatness in th al worlJ. E verything seem s ro be taking place on th e surfaee, witbout an y d epth. The use of color and sou nd also ad d to rhc feelin g of J e pthle~,<;n ess: I he w lors ,In; dr
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I Mr· r.;~f'dllll
OAV I D lVtJI 1I
world of surfaces, and whefe we would expecr ro find depth, we find o nly a void (silenee or darkness). Wh ile he lights alI m e m ain rooms of the house with low, though aclequate ligh ting, Lynch !caves the hall ways complerdy dark . indicating thi s void beneath the surface, the void from which d esire emerges. Such darkness is absent in Peter's worl d. From the mom en t Peter appears, the mise-en-seene is wholly different: bright lighting, more colorful fu rn iture and décor, and no empty spaces. The d epth of fiekl underl ines the fu ll er look. Lynch ShOOlS Peter's wo rld much more tradi tionalIy than F red's, so that it is not pervaded hy mystery in the way of the larter. This absence of m ystery-this sense of a turn toward realistic cinema -Icts us know that Peter's world is wholIy fantasmatic. A world of pu re desire would be completely mys [erious in this way because it would offer us no possibilities for m aki ng sense of th e desire of the Other (wh ich is rhe function of fan casy).
Enduri ng th e Desire of the Other
Ra ther than turning to fa ntasy, as one mig ht assum e, ro avoid con tem pla ting his impen d ing exccution, F rcd does so in order to g ain respite from tbe desire of his wi fe Renee (Patr icia Arq uette), which eontinucs to hau nt him despi re rhe faet th ar she sec ms ro have d ied . F rom [he be ginnillg of the film , Re nee 's desire wo rks to generate F red 's d es ire precisely beca use he has no idea wbat she wants, Jet alone how to g ive it tO her. She secms to have, somewherc within her, sorne hid den kernel of excessive enjoyment that F red ean't aecess. Bi ll P ullma n's perfor mance and Ly nch 's placemcn t of F red w ithin the frame help to make clear that F red posits a secret, m ysterious en joymenr in Renee. On two separate occas ions when F red ap proaches Re nee, the shots depict him emerg ing from a complerely da rkened corridor in the hou se (echoing simila r sh ots in B!ue Ve/vet IT986], sllch as when Sandy [Laura D ern] first appea rs). Desiring is, in a sense, bcing in the dark about the desire of the Other-or feeling oncself in the dark. Bill Pullman's delive ~y of Fred's lines also ma kes clear dJar Renee's desire m ys tifies Fred. W hen responding to Renee's questions or conversing wirh her, Pu llman uses unusually long pauses and a pu zzled expression in o rder to demon strate F red 's sense of bew ild erm ent. T he sum of these effects helps to ¡Ilustrate tl ¡;¡¡ Prcd feels himsel f confronted wi th a mystery that he can nnt lilll."'11 tll '· lI1 y~tc:ry of what ReOl'c W:lll b .
t OS T ,i IC ,., WAY
15 7
At the beginning (lf ÚJst H ighway, Rcnee is a mystery to Frcd, and he interprets this scnse of mystery that pervades her as ;} veil, beneath which lies her hielden treasure, her secret enjoym ent. O n the first eve ning depicted in Lost Highway, Fred asks Re nee if she's going to the club that night (where he plays the saxophone in a jazz band), hut she decides not to go. This decision, osterrsibly innocent, is for F red filled with meaning (beca use he sees it as a ve il hiding something), but he doesn't know what kind of meaning (beca use he can't see bencath the veil). He then proceeds to interrogate her: FRED: What are you going to dor RENFF: Read. FRED: ., . Read? ... Read what? (RENEE laughs) As Fred, Bill Pullman delivers this finalline with t\Vo belabored pauses, suggesting that he is uncertain whether or not Re nee is telling the truth. Renee's cryptiC response and subsequent laug hter when asked to specify do not help Fred to solve the myste ry of her des ire. T he laughrer seems to indicate thar Renee has som eth ing up her sl eeve, but w hatever rhis might be, Fred feel s himselfcompletely barred from ir. Wc can sense this feclin g in Frcd's voice when he tel ls Re nee, after she laughs, "Ir's nice ro know I can still make you laugh." H e ta kes som e d egree of solace in the fact that he seems still to have some part of whar she w ants, but his overall feeling here is o ne of being alienared from her desire, an alien a tion that quickly turns into suspicion. F rom the club that nigh t, he calls home, checking up on Renee, but she doesn 't seem to be there to answe r. Lynch cuts betwcen a shot of F red calling from the club and a shot of the phone ringing at Fred and Renee's home with no one answering. The editing of this shot sequencc extends the sense of myste ry pc rvading Re nee. By including the shot of the phonc ringing in che seemingly vacant home, Lynch attempts to involve the spectator in F red 's suspicions about Renee. Ir is not clear that Renee isn 't rhe rc, but nonetheless this is F red's belief-and ours, if we follow the prodd ings of Lynch '5 came ra-a be lief premised upon sceing Rente as veiled . Bu! w h ~' n he gets h ome, h finds Rente sleeping peacefully in t11l·ir hed I,y I lt'r~df. T hi s episod e Icaves Fred a nd th <:: :lI1dicnce with :l lli111Ih .1\
1 ~:,8
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IMP 05S l lLE DIIV I D IYN~ II
H" IIFt: ¡\ .I' ·\lr in g, hu t witb
no idea ahout wha!. But in coming up against the mystcry ofRenee's de si re, F red reveals something further. Through F red's relationship with Re nce, Lw'! Highway illustrates how we come into existence as desiring subjects. Fred's sen se of bewil der ment about Renee's desire, his constant efforts at interp reting what it is she really wa nts, is actually the mark ofhis own emergence as a de siring subject. Bis constant efforts to interpret Renee's words (and even hcr silences and Ia ughs) ind icate that F red himself desires. In attempt ing to interpre t Re nee's desire, Fred constitutes himself as desiring. De sire is an effo rt to figure out w hat the Oth er wants from me. As such, it is a perpetual question that ca n never be answered beca use it would ha ve to be answcred with words, i.e., w ith another veil or screen that necessarily gives the illusion ofhiding desire. Ev en asking the Other to demonstrate herlhis desire physically in an effort to elude language would come up against the same stumbling block: as hcings of Ian guage, even ou r gestures function as signifiers, which m eans that they a re o paque and appcar to hid e desire, (r Fred came right out and asked Renee w hat she wa nted , w hatever answer she gave w ould seem to F red as if she we re hidin g something furthe r, the som ething tha r she reall y wa nted . This is w hy L acan c1aims lha t desire "cannot be indi ca ted anyw here in a signifie r of an y de mand w hatsoeve r, for it carmo t be a rticulated in the sign ifier even tho ugh it is articulated the re."6 Dcsire is me res ult of o ur insertion into Ianguage, but nonetheless it ca n't be named by tha t language. Th us, insofar as he holds fas t tO h is desirc (i.e., in sofar as he co ntinues to try to interpret Renee's des ire), F red is doomed to be stuck w irh a question that doesn't have an answe r, no matter how fa r he pursues that question. The end lessn ess of desire and its perpetual question m ake it unbearable and nea rl y impossi ble to sustain. T his unbcara ble quality is w hy we do n't experience desire without a correlative fantasy. O n its ow n, desire req uires th at we persist in a radi cal uncertainty relative to the Other. As a res ult, most narratives dilute desi rc with adose of [antasy, provid ing characters and situations that readi! y make sense. But even narratives replete w ith uncertainty neces sa rily betray some investment in fantas y, or elsc they would ccase to be na rrati ves altogether. Na rra rjve ~ alJow U5 th e res pite of knowledge, th erehy dd ivc: ring us fro m dcsire's co mpku: u llcertainty, even as they rcceiw 111< 11 t'twrg}' (mm clesire. Wc: (a11 ~cc the un hea rable quality of
l o~ r
HI GH'IIAY
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" ucsire in F red's response to Renee's uesire and, by extension, to his own. It doesn't take long for Fred to begin to view desire itself with suspi cion . We should resist the temptation of blaming this response on the ambiguity with which Renee presents Fred. As Martha Nochimson rightl y points out, "Frcd is doomed by his relationship to Renee not he cause of he/' i nconsistencies but beca use of hú obsessions."7 F reu retreats from desire itself-not pJrticularly Rcnec's desirc.
The Entrence of the Superego
One way to retreat from desire is to turo to the law, to identi fy with the law as a bulwark agaiost desire. Whereas fantasy offers an imaginar)' answer to desirc's question , the law attempts to arrest the very proccss of questioning itself, along with the disturbance it provokes. In its ef fort to kecp uesire in cheock, the law takes up a position of an observer vis-a-vis desire. It observes desire in an cffort to keep it to a minimum, to eliminate its disruptive cffects on the functioning of the social ord er. In order to better observe desire, the law has a reprcsentative within the psyche, the superego, thal watches over the subject from the inside. The superego is th e psychical age ncy of self-observation, and rho ugh ir is a part of the psyche, its attachment ro the law makes il seem as if the su perego comes from the outside. ln L ost Highway, lhe videotape rhar ap pears on F red and Rcnee's front porch on the filrn 's second morning in dicares rh e presence of sorne observing agency. Like the su perego, whoever is o bserving their house with a video camera seems to be an intruuer, an alie n figure. The superego is, in one sense, at the sourcc of the feel ing of being watched, though its ultimate source lies in our sacrifice of dC5ire to the law. The manifestation of the superego appears in the film, not coinci dentally, just as Fred has begun to bccome more suspicious abour Renee's desire. Feelings ofsuspicion and jealousy are a response ro desire, a sU5pi cion ofdesire itself-indicative of an investment in the law. F red's suspi civn indicates a failure on his part ro sustain desire's guestion, an d it i5 this failure that provides a bu rst of encrgy to the superego, resulting in the videotape at the door.ln giving up his desire, F red opcns th e door ro the superego, "inviting" it into hi s psyche. The ~lI pl"n.:~() de velops in50 far as we g ive up desire: the more we gi vl' IIp d l'~ i fe , 1111' ~1I (ll\gcr t he Sl1 pe rego's command th at \Ve gi H: up mUl l' .1"111 1"'111111' ~:: In T/¡" lvld (/s
160
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tases ofHlljoyment, Slavo j Ziiek offers a n explanation of this rclationship: "[The] supcrego draws the encrgy ofthe pressure it exer ts upon the sub ject from the fact that the subjecl was not faithful to his uesi rc, that he gave it up. Our sacrificing ro the superego, our paying tribute to it, ooly corroborares our guilr."9 The tape's presence tells us that F red's aban donment of his desire has energi zed his superego, bur its presence abo spurs Fred's suspicions, which means it doesn't pro vide him an y relief. The turo away from desire ro the law is not, properly speaking, a turo away froro ues irc ar al!. The m ore the subject seeks refuge in the la vV, the more hca vily ir expe riences its ow n lack. Law and desire work hand -in-hand to keep the subject 's attention focused on the Other and the question of the O ther's desirc. ' o As long as the subject takes its bea rings from rhe Other 's desire, it remains on a lho roughly ideological terrain in w hich the Oth er completdy deter mines the subject. 1n this position, the subjcct sees only symbolically circumscribed avenues for ac tion rather than a real opening to acto Such opcnings appear as impossibilities for the subject tied , through th e dia lectic of la w and desire, ro the questi oo of wha t th e O th er wan ts. But Lost Highway doesn't end with ch is stalc al te rnative. T he evening after Fred and Renee receive Ule first t;lpe, F red posits an increasingly g rea te r desire to Renee, "seei ng" her p rese ot at the club that night with anotner guy (Andy, as we lea ro later). Later thar night, F red tries to ha ve sex w ith Renee, but is unable to--and unabl e to give he r w hat he thinks she wants. And from Renee's response, we can scc thar th is isn't the first time. Fred's im potence--or sim ply hi s inabi lity to satisfy Renee sexually-further em powe rs his supcrego beca use it makes him fcd even more estranged from her desirc a nd even g uiltier. WC get confirmation of this w hen F rcd, just after th ei r failed sexual ex perience, reCOUllts a d ream ro Renee. He tells her, "There you we re Iy ing in bed . It wasn't you but it looked like you." Insread of he r fa ce, in the dream-imagc we see th e face of the Mystcry Man (Roben Blake), who turos ou t to be-we don't kno w this yet at this point in the film the (me respon siblc for th e videotape." The Mystery Man's face appears suddenly in Fred's dream sequence in the pLace of Re nee's face, an effcct that adds ro tbe horro r ir provokcs, illustrating rhe way in which the supe rego represents the F ather in his most fCfflO llllS fo rmo Fred sees th c face rhat has bce n obse rving him (i.c., t1w ~lIpl' l l'~lIi(' 1:'1(:(.') in the place ofhi s wifc 's. The supe rego lodges
lO H
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161
itself hctween F red and Renec, furth cr cutting off F red from Renee \; desire and his ovvn. It bloc ks thc path of F red 's desire, keeping wJ.tch ove r an y desíre to tran sg rcss its prohihitions. Furtherm o re, the Sllpc r ego continues to m akc irself felt \vith g rea ter and g reater strcngth, as the next mornin g's viJ eot J.¡pe shows. Unlik e th e tape of th e pre violls morning, on this tape the obseifving ca me ra ente rs F red and Renee' .. house and travd s d own the hall toward their bedroo m , finJ.lly dissol v ing into sta tic as th e im age of them sleep ing in bed appears. That cve ning at a part )', the film reveal s th e sig nifica nce of thi s in creasing intrllsion . F red run s into the Mysre ry Man, who approacb es Fred and tell s him that he is at Fred 's hOll se now . Fred, of course, find s thi s "crazy," but the Mystery Man is able to provc hi s claim by offering his cellular phone to Fred so that he can ca1J ho me. And sure enoug h, the ivlystery Man ans we rs the phone in FreJ 's housc, ev en though he is also stan d ing in front of Frcd at the pany. Wh en F red as ks him why he's there, the Mystery Man re plics, "You in viteJ m e. It is not my cus tom to go wh ere 1 am not wa nted." In this response, the Mys te ry Ma n pro \' iJes anoth er piece of evidence that he occupi cs th e posüion of the superego. 12 Just li kc the My stery M an, the superego is an intruder fro m an external place into an internal one. As F reud points ou t, "the part wbich is later taken on by the super-ego is played ro begin with by an external power, by pare ntal authori ty. " '3 Thc su perego is the resulr uf an y in ternali zation of the father (o r, mo re spec ifica lly, of lhe Na me of the F athe r) as an agency of prohibition. In th e fo rma tion of the supcr ego, "ex terna l restraint is inte rnalized ." '4 Th e su perego ¡s, lik e the Mystery Ma n in m e film , in two places at once-ins ide and outside. T hc fi lm makes cven more ev ident this exti ma te q uul ity of m e Mys tery Man through a mani p ulation of sound . Lyoch's work wirh sounJ is often the most in ventive aspecr of hi s filmm aking, as we can see io th.is instaoce. H e uses sound (o r th e lack of it) to ma ke cl ea r the bo nd between Fred and the My stery Man. W hen the Myste ry Man ap proa ches Fred in ord er to speak with him, the back g roun d noise of the party dims ro becom e alm ost inaudible, as if, in m e m id st of this crow ded party, th e Mystery Man and Fred are havi ng a p ri va te-in rrapsych ic conversa rí on. vVhen rhe Mys tery Man walb ;J way ;I fier l heí r conve rsa tion, the background no íse n:tu rns a.C;;líll 1, i 11 111 1ll . d .~lIggt"'1 ing that we have moved bac k frOlTI rh e intt:rt1¡¡1 ItI d l\: ,:\ I,:r II,tI . '1"111 llltnna lizalion of the law through ¡he ;Ige ncy (11' d\l : ""I'I;II. ~'· I !1: \( ~ I I , ••l lIl ll·thlllg" il n ·
162
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C1 .~ VIU
I Y t~'
11
portant ahou r m e subject's rdation to desire. Th.i s in ternalization is not so much an imposition of authority as the result of a sacrifice made by the subject. The superego folJows from the sac rifice of desire, w hich is why, in a sense, F red did iovi te the Mys tery Man in to his home, as the la tte r claims. In giv ing up his desire, Fred offe red ao open in vit:c1.tion to the superego. ' 5 On the dri ve hom e from the party, F red gets, as it were, a last chanceo He asks Renee about A ndy (the host of the pa rty and the guy with whom Renee had been flining ), and sb e tel ls about a job thal Andy once told her about. Beyond ma t she can 't remem ber. O nce aga in , shc presents him with aO enigma: the " job" rem a ins a complete m ystery, w hi ch sen ds F red'~ des ire racing. But un der the increasing pressure of the su perego he cannot continue in the uncertainty of this open ques tion (i.e., w ha t does Renee \Vant?). Th e nexr morning's videotape-the first one F red watchcs without Renee-depicts the resul ts: Fred ha ck ing away at Renee's bod y in their bedroom. C ornpdled by the pressure of the superego, F red attempts ro e radica te des ire's incessan t an e! un bca rable question. Even th oug h m e su perego is, fo r psychoanalysis, me ad vocate fo r morality w ithin the psyche, ir nonerhdess demands Renee's murder. H ow does m is squa re wim the idea of the superego as a "mora l" agency ? Moral ity always com es dow n to--and this is why Lacan contrasts it w ith an ethics of des ire- the command ro sacrifice the objec t because rhe objcct's ambigu ity is w hat keeps puslLing des ire forward. Morali ty aims, in short, at arresting lhe di sturba nce Lhat desire causes. T his is w hy, at me c10se of Seminar Xl, Lacan says of the mo ral law that ir "cul minates in me sacrifice, stricdy speaking, of evc ryth ing that is the obj ec t of love in one's hum an tenderness-I wou ld say, not onl y in lhe rejec tion oft be pathological object. but also in its sac rifice and murder. " ,6 Just m urde ring Renee is not enoug h to sate the appetite ofthis mo rality beca u se she isn't identical with th e obj ect-cause of desire. That object is a pan obj ect- part of her, nOt the w hole of her. Thus , we see Fred, after havio g killed her, d ismem bering Renee 's hody in an effort to find this obj ect som ewhere in her boJ y. The ob ject, howeve r, is not si m ply in Renee (as Fred bd ieves when he is muti lating he r); it is, as Lacan woutd p ut it, "in her more tha n hcr." Consequently, th e mutil a ion i5 d oomcd ro faíl , anJ despitc his desrr ucti on of Renee, the obj ec t rerna in, ¡mI .1' ill t·ffable as ever. He d()t: sn't di scover her "secret. " K ilJ-
LOST H/GHWAY
16 3
ing Renee in no way ma kes things easier precisely bccause he can 't re ally kili her- or at least th at part of her which is the objecr-cause of dc sire. As the film subsequently shows, the death sen tence he receives is the least of his worries. ' 7
Fantasizing Reality
Despite her "d eath," the problcm of Renee's d esire continues to haunt Fred with increasing vehemence while he's in prison. One doesn't just get rid of the trouble that desire stirs up, and th e fact that we later sec her ali ve again merely confirms this. Thc more one tries to destroy this object, the more it continues to haunt. This is why killing Renee unl)' makes things worse for Fred. In his pri so n ceH F red falls apa rt, buckled by the desire th at he could not destroy by murdering Renee. It is at this point that Fred attempts to quell d esire in another way-givi ng up de sire for fantasy, which results in his transformation into Pete r Dayton. While most films, at sorne point in the narrative, d epict a sim il ar turn from d esire to fantasy (w hen they enact sorne sort of resolu tion), Lost Highway actually enacts thi s turn within the form al structure of the fi lm itself-replacing one character (Fred Madison) w ith another (Pe ter Dayton). At this point, the fi lm itscl f fuUy imme rses itself in fa ntasy, \vhich has a paradox ical effect: beca use the film becomes immersed in Fred 's fantasy- taking it so serious ly as to effect ,1 tr ans formation in his cha.racter-it jolts the spectator out of vicwing comforlably through the lens of fantasy. By highlig hting the rad icality of the transfo rmation tba t hntasy occa sions, Lynch return s us, as spectators, to the u nbearableness of desire. Through the transform ation into Peter, it is this unbcarableness of Re nee'slhis desire that F red is trying to escape. In the fantasy that follows, Fred conceives an answer to the question of w hat Renee wan ts, and though it is not alwa ys plcasant for him (or for Peter D ayran), it does al low him tu get a hand le on the enigma tic object. Fa ntasy prov ides an ex plicit staging ofthe Other's "sec ret." Ifdesire is a perpetual questi on,fan tasy is;]n answer, a solution to the problcm that d esire prese nts, wh ich is why fantasy, eve n if it is ma sochistic, prov id es a scnse of rche f. The commonsensical d efinition of fan rasy -4,;.,~·arl' fn)m rea li ty can 't explain fantas y's unpleasant diIl ICII'I¡111l 111 hi, (' ''pl:1notion of
16·1
Trié IM~OSSIUP . t1 A\lltl lYNCfl
Fred's transformation into Peter, Tim Lucas invokes thi s definition, claiming that "after reali zing what he's do ne, Fred cannot face the overwhelming rea Jities of the murd er and hi s conviction, and his denial extends to the ob literation of his o,vn identity."1 8 Thi s description of the turn to fantasy posits a preexisting realit)' which fantasy seeks to deny. Eut Fred, as far as we can see in the film, d oesn 't seemall that troubl ed by reali ty. Rather, it is desire that troubles him . Tbis is why there is a clea r co ntinuity between his state before the murd er and aftcr; it is difficult to see how the murder has changed much, other than mak ing Renee's desire eve n more impenetrable. Furthermore, if fantasy ,is supposed to offer respite from the un pleasantness of reality, it seems that Frecl should demand at least a par tial refund o Renee's enig matic d esire ma )' be disconcerting, but in hi s fantasmatic alternative, be k1Jows that Al ,ice (Patricia Arquette again , he re a platinum blonde) is the mistress ofMr. Eddy (Robert Loggia) not exactIy a pleasant alte rnati ve. Bu t we don 't turn to fantasy for hap piness or for respite from reality; we turn to it for respite from the tor ments of our desire. Fa ntasy fills in the gap tha t haunts the soc ial rea lity, but in doing so revea ls that the re is somcthi ng not encompasscd by this reality-a trau matic real. Th c very fact that we must have recou rse ro fa m asy-that the social realíty doesn 't satis fy l1s-testifies to the cxi stence of a real that haunts ou r real ity. If the social reality were w ithout fissurc, if it could accou nt fo r everything, it would not hélve a fantastrnatic und er side. An d the turn to (antasy, the tra nsi ti on , m akcs the real evident be cause it revea ls, howcver brieAy, t he point of fissure with in the social reali ty. T he real is th e transitional point at which fantas)' emerges. Agai n, because L ost Highway holds social rea lity ::Iil d fantas)' apart, the transition between them-comact w ith the real- becomes apparent where our eve ryelay Jife obscures it. The m omen t o f transition to fantas)' in Lost Highway is a traumatic mornent: the camera (from Fred's point of view) is moving clown the middle of a hi gh w ay and th en s"vcrves, heading straighr for Peter, who stands by the side of the road. 1n the backg round , Peter's parents and gi rlfriend Sheila come running and screaming in terror. Following this encounte r between soc ial reality and fantasy, we see Frcd writhing in pain on his ce ll Aoor- ev idence of rum endu ring an experience of the
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void that haunts reality. The void then appears m omentarily on the sc reen as a mysteri ous (vaginal) opening tha t exp:lnd s and th reaten s to envelop the spec tator-only to di~ appea r alm ost instantaneously. Just as it scems to envcl op us, me fantasy takes hokl, and we fi nd ourselves on seem ingly solid ground. And th is traumatic real d oes leave its mark: the oozing wound on Peter's head ser ves as él remjnder. Just as Fred 's splitting headaches indicate the presence oC the trauma tic real in the world of d es irc, Peter's head wound indicates its prese nce in the world of fantasy. I n the former case, traum a is alwa ys in the future, about to happen; in the latter, it has always alread y occurred. In othe r worJ s, traum a haunts the worlJ o f d esire as the possibili ty that is right around the co rn er v,'hil e it h;lUnts the world of faotasy as a past event that that world ca n neve r escape. We can also see the sign of th e trauma's pres ence in the refusal of Peter's parents to speak about "that night," reveal ing that the fantas)' necess itates that ce rtain things remain uospoken. Keeping the traumati c real unspoken allows fantas)' to create a \Vorld seem ing ly without fi ssu re. In fan tasy, we produce an image of ourselvcs as we want to be-an idea l ego or imaginary identifica bon. Peter Dayton fulfill s dus function for Fred MaJ ison fir st of all in his ability to enj o)' women in a way that Fred cannot. As the police tell us , Peter "gets more pussy tha n él toilet seat." What's more, in the figure of Peter, Fred ca n see himself as inno cent, él victim of d ark and siniste r forces anJ of a corrupted wom ao. '\nd yet, P eter is not an innocent naif: he has a crimi na l record , a large g rou p of cool friends, and an active sexual rela tionsh ip w it h h is girl friend Sheila . In other words, Peter rep rese nts both innoce nce and so phistica ti on-an ideali zed, thoug h contradicto ry, image. Through the turn to Peter, F red rea li zes an impossible iden tity. Like Peter, his parents ha ve a double quality to them. Th ey both wear Icather jackets and da rk sunglasses-which suggest that they a re "hip"-while they d ri ve a wood-paneled sta tion \vagon and watch wi th fascination documentaries about straw berries-characteri stics that suggest the seeming innoce nce of Leave It to Beaver. These oxymoronic characteristics in both Peter ¡'LDd h is parents indicate em p hatically that they are pan of a fantasy construction. This fan tasy can not al\ow Fred to sec himself as so innocent as to be a dupe. bul. m:ithcr ca 11 il ul\nw h im to see himsel f al> in any way cu l pable. O nl ) hy \\,·111-. lllH 1 hi o, lílW lint: can fantasv assist Fred in escaping frorn h i~ d"' lI t
166
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Fantasy not onl y offers us the image of ou rsclves as we want to be, it is also the basis for our scnsc o f being situated in a "real world" rather than a mys teri ous one plag ued by unce rtainty. T h is is c1ear in the con trast between F red and Peter. W hereas F red seems to exist completely outside of any personal hi story or social relations, Pete r has what seems to be a "full" liJe: parents, frien ds, job, (crim in al) history, etc. Mystery pervades F red's world. As Re ni Celeste poi nts out, "T he fir st \ovorld en countered in this film is enveloped in the m ood of sllsp icio n, silence, clues that ha ve no meaning and ac ts that ha ve no agen t."' 9 In contra st to Fred , Peter doesn't li ve in a va cu u m , bu [ within a ratb er clea d y de fined soc ial setting. If it is the case that Fred's world is one of desire an d Peter's worl d is one of fantasy, then this suggests that all the background elcments that give our existe nce its sen se of completeness are fantasmatic. The ability to grasp oneself in a specific socio h isto ri ca l setting is fant asmatic be cause it makes us fed secure- rooted, connected to peo ple, place, and tim e. F red 's existence has no such stability; it is the fr ee-floaüng exis tence in d icative of a wo rld of d esire wimou t fantasy. In Fred 's wo rld , we ha ve no way of gettin g our bear ings, no clear m a rkers to latc h onto, so tha t we should even hesitate to call ir a "wo rld " at all . Peter's, on the other hand, offers us clear poin ts of rcfc rence. (n d epictin g this co n trast, Lynch shows the extent to w hich a "sense of rea li ty" acrually has liule ro d o w ith rea lity ¡tself. It d epends fu nda mentall y u pon a we.ll developed "sense of fantasy."lO This contrast is pe rhaps m ost appá rent in the styli stic d iffe rences be tween the two wo rld s. Wbe reas Lynch shoots Fred's world w ith mini mal depth of field, w ith m onoch rom atic tones, with low, ye llow light ing, and wi th long periods of silence, he shoots Pete r's wo rld using the traditional con ventions of H ollywood realis m . The mom ent after the transform ation from F red to Peter, the style of the fil m u ndergoes a wholesale chan ge. T hc prison, Aat and drah when F red occupied it, ac quires dcpth and color. Peter's cdl has a lig ht shining through the win do w that w asn' t shinin g iuto Fred's cell , and the fir st sho t of the prison corridor has a depth of field that contrasts wit h the Aamess of Frcd's world. W hen Peter ar rives at his parent's home, the lighting, d epth of fieLd, and colors seem much more like w hat we a re used to seeing than in che shots of F red and Renee's home. T he firs t shot of Pe ter at h is bome d e pic ts him wearin g brig ht colors (red and w hite) a nd sitting on
.O H
H I GH WAY
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a la wn chair in the hrightly lit backyard. This m ise-e n-scene marks a
Afte r Pe te r becom es aware of A lice's involve ment with organized
complete ueparture from that of the first pa rt of the film , a departurc tha t indicates th e eva nescence of myste ry. In Perer's worId, spectJtors ha ve something to hold onto, a se nse of
crime and pornography, he wa nts to know the reason fur this involve ment. Whi!c mey a re together a t rhe Starlight Motel , he asks, "How did you get in volved 'vvith these fu cking people, A lice?" In response, Alice repcats, word for word, Ren ee's description about m ee ting Andy and
d epth bcneath th e surface rather t han jusr em ptiness. Th e constant back ground music also hclps to provide this seose of de pth , but it is the dia logue that makes it especially apparent. Here, unl ik e in F red 's worIo, ac
him telling her about a job, excepr that Atice remembe rs the job and d escribes ir to P etee. Whereas Renee's account is wholly ambiguous
tors speak their Iines without lengthy and awkward pauses, in a manne r that suggests "rea l" co O\"C rsa tion. This realism in th e dialogue helps to produce a world in which everything makes sense a no in w hich we are
and th us e/icits Fred's des ire-Alice p rovid es the in timate detail s ofthe
not bombarded by a constant aura of mystery. In thi s wa y, the turn to Pe te r's \\'orld provid es the same kind of respite for specta tors thar rhe turn to Peter provid es for Fred. By shooting Pete r's world-me world of fan tasy-in a reali stic style, Lynch m a kes eviden t the fanras matic under
her e/othes off in front of Mr. E d dy. Al ice 's u esc ription horr ifies arouses-Peter, w ho now has confirmarion about w hat it is thar A lice wants. He as ks he r, "Wh y didn't you just Icave ? ... You liked it, huh ;)"
pinnings of our sense of reality. H e shovvs, in other words, that it is pre cise/y the fulln ess and depth-the fee/ing of "Ii[e"-of the fi lm ic experience tha t are fa ntas m a tic. The sense of depm w e associa te with re ali ty i~ w holl y a product of fantasy, an indication of a retrea l from desire. The escape from desire becomes mosr apparent in the transformation of Patricia A ryuette's Re nee io to Al ice Wa k efield . W e know mat a link ex ists between F red Madison and Pere r Day ton beca use after both trans formati ons -Fred into Pete r an d Peter into F reu-th e one occupies the same p h ysical space that the other had occupi ed . In the case ofRe nee and Alice, no such e/ ues exist. Howeve r, because Pa rrici a A rc¡uette plays both roles, there is a t leas t an in dicati on-which will get substanlÍ ated-that Alice is a fanta sized vers ion of Re nee. The transfo rmation of Renee in to Alice allow s F red (as Pete r Day ton) to so lve th e deacllock of Renee's J e sire and conceive , on me leve! of fanrasy, of a way of enj oyin g her. W hereas Re nee's pa st a nd her desire rema ined a m ystery ro Fred, Peter is able to e nj oy A lice because he knows w hat she wants. In A lice, desire find s its satisfaction, albeit only an i m agi na ry satisfaction. U ni i ke Renee, Alice, as a fantasy ob ject, is know a ble. 1n other wo rds, in the fanta sy on e finds;l solution to the desire ofthe Other. This diffe rence is most a ppar ent in Alice's association w ith Andy. Though Renee seemcd- at !cast 10 Fred's mind-to ha ve sorne illicit in vol veme nl Wilh Andy. "he;; p rc)v ided F red no detaiJ s,otbe rtha o procla.irning that Ii lCy \\.Tr, · "Cr 1('lld,, " ;md tba t Andy once told he r abo uLl " job," t hc sp!" irlc, .. t wJ.kl , ',ltpl'n l h,,; r mind. W ith A licc, al! of the qut;srions ti lid .\II.,W ' \ ' ,
Ii,R
rll r
liMPOSS IUl1
l' ,", Vlf' I YN,: 1I
job, allowing Peter a share of her en joym e nt. The job consisted simply ofone ofMe. Eddy's gangs te rs putting a g u n to her head w hile she took
Though Alice's sro ry upsets P ete r, it also offers him a fantasized answer to the question, "what does the O the r want?"; it allows hi m to conceive of the Other enjoying. Tbe answ er, not surprisingly, is the phall us, re p resented by Mr. E Jdy, the site of powe r w ithin this fantasy construc tion. The phall us fu nctions to signify the O ther's des ire.
We Can Only Go So Far The phallu s ge ts i_Q tbe way of Peter's e nj oyme nt o f Alice. W hereas F red coul d not e nj oy Renee beca use he h aJ no idea what she wa nted, Pecer canIlot enjoy A lice bccause M e. Eddy stands in the way and has ex pressly prohibited Peter from en joyin g he r. W hen be becomes sllspi cious of Peter a nd A lice's re/atio nsh ip, Mr. &ldy pays Pe te r a vis it a t Ar nie's Garage, w he re he impli citl y wa rns hi m a bout "making out" w ith Alice, tell ing him, I'm sure you noticed thac girl who was witb me the other day good -Iooking blonde, she stayed in the ca r ? H er name is Alice. I swea r 1 love that girl to death. If 1 eve r found out somebod y wa s making out \Vith he r, I'd take th is [his gun], Lilld I'd shove it so far up h is ass it would come out his mouth. And then you kn ow what f' d do? .. . I'd hlow his fucking brain s ou t.
Me. E d d y's warning suggests thar he, as the faeher, will jealously guard hi ~ priv tl t'gt'
nr t: njnying the woman ."
He defends this priv ilege by
lOST HI:GHWAY
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brancJishing his heavily phallicized gun and th reateni ng castration for the wayward son. Though the father does prohibit Peter frum enjoying Alice, his fan tasized ex isten ce does at least allow for the possi bi!ity of Alice's enjoy ment, the sa tisfaction of her d es ire, and iD this way, the presence of the father (anJ the phallus) provides respite from the desire of thc Other. No matter how threatening the father m ay be. he is always a rdi cf, but only a fantasi zed relief, as the film makes clear. By having th is father figure emerge only through the fantasy, Loó·t Highway shows rhat his status is necessarily fantasmatic, an indjcation th at lhe subject has aban doned its d es ire. As Lacan notes in Seminar X X 1J/, "rhe father is a symptom."22 Fred Madison fantasi zes the father's existence because he offers a way of structuring his enjoyment via the fantasy and thus also offers a respite fro111 dcsire. \\lhen lVI r. Eddy ap pears in the fantasy structure as the agent of prohibition, he signals~as the fa ther always does-th il t Fred has retreated from his desire. Within the structllre of fantasy, the father provid es the anchor upon which we can g round mcaning and get our bea rings. T hi s is the function of the fa ther: he is the point from w hich everything else can be made sensible. With rhe assistance of this paternal function, fan tasy transforms what doesn't m ake sense into w hat does-questions into answers. But the answc rs it provides-th e w ay it structures our enjoyment~are oeve r pleasant, because it alvvays structures enj oy m cnt as somcthing prohibited . It is not just that F red has a self-d estruc üve fantasy and should try to come u p w itb a more positive one. T he destructiveness ties in the nature of fa ntasy itsel f. As Peter tries to enj oy A tice for hi msel f, to violare M r. E ddy's prohi bition, the limits of the k ind of enjoyment possible th ro ugh fantasy come clearly into view. Alice talks Peter in to a plan th at would allow him to enjoy her, that involves robbing and killing A ndy (M r. E d dy's hircling). When Peter enters Andy's house to carry out the plan, he en counters enjoyment everywhere: th ere is a pornographic film wirh AI ice in it playing on the far wall and a loud voice is chanting non sensi cally." Getting so close to this enjoyment horrmes P eter, and , after Andy~a barrier to it-dies, Peter sees a picrurc (l[ tvlr. Ed dy, A ndy, Renee, and Alice, a piCl:ure thar indicAlc.;S th l' hr<':lk .lown orlhe barri er between fan tasy anJ social rca li ty. H .' Wlllu ll'l" ti Ill,d, Rl' l1c'(' :lnd Alice are the Silll1C pcrslln , and Ih ollg h .\ Iin 1,111,1111 111,,\ 1111 y"r lIe)I , Peler
170
11 11 IMI' o~.·\lnlt I)AV I II
' Y/l e "
beg ins to get a splitting h(CaLlacbc, suggesting rhat he's not so sure. 24 As he gets too cl ase to the poss ihili ly of enjoy ing his object through the fantasy, th e real obj ec r (Ren t:e) begi n<; to intrude into the fantasy, thereby making the horror of enjoyrn em m ore and more evident. After seeing the picture uf both A lice and Renee tügether, the fan t,lSY starts to unravel with the intr usion of the social rea lity. Peter, with his head aching, goes upsta irs look ing fo r a bathroorn but fincJs in stead a hotel room. vVh en P eter opcns the doo r, he sees a wildly distorted im age of Renee hav in g sexo (Watching the film , ir is difficult to d etermine whether it is Renee or Alice, though the screenplay indicates that it is Renee. The ambiguity suggests the fu rther breakdown of the fantasy.) Renee calls out to hi m, in él distorted voice, "Did you want to talk ro me? Oid you want to ask m e why? " As she says the word "wby," Re nee's voice becomes complete!y garbled, indicating that th e sense of what Renee is say ing here becomes overwhelmed by the en joy m ent of the voice itsclf-an enjoyment beyond the m ean ing of the word. The fi lm indicates the overwhcl ming p resence of enj oym ent here not onl y throug h the distortion of Renee's voice but also throug h the di stü rtion of the im age and of the narrative irsel f. Until this mome nt, Peter Dayton's fan tasma tic narrati ve has haJ a certain consistency, th e sem blancc o f orde r. But when Peter wa\ks up stairs in Andy's house looking for a bath room and finJs Renee having sex in a m otel room , cnjoy menl breaks fr ee wirhi n the fan tasy construc tion, and th e fantasy is sta rring to teeter. Horrifi ed by this en counte r wi th enj oyme nt, Peter quickl y shuts th e doo r, eage r for some so rt of respite. W ith A ndy ou t of the way, nothing stand s in the way of Peter's enjoying the fantasy object. Sur w hen nothing sta nds in the way ofthis enjoyment and the fantasyca n no longer kee p it at a safe distance, AlicelRenee-the difference is evaporating-becomes un bea rable for Peter, just as Renee was un bearable for F red . Ra ther rhan providing respite, the fantasy leads tr. e subject do w n the path rhat he tri ed to esca pe. When Ali ce and Peter driv e out to the desert to sell the jewels they've taken from Andy, the fant ;,;;y fin ally dissolves compl etel y. While wait ing for their buyer to a rrive, Alice and Pete r beg in to have sex in front of their car's shi n ing headligh ts. Peter comes as close as he can get to enj oying his fantasy object unencumbered by the threat of the facher. Lynch t.:vcn cOmm unica tes thi s proxi l'n iry ro enjoyment throug h the form nf lhl ¡l ltll: ti ,,:: sc rccn hecolnes so br ig hl Ihat th e aud ience can
I OH m GHWAY
i7 1
barely continue w atchíng.25 Peter has gotten too close to the fantasy ob ject and destroyed its o ntologi cal consistency. \Vhile they a re ha ving sex, Pete r repeatecUy tells Alice, "1 want you, I wa nt you ." After a few minutes, Alice gets up, says to Peter, "You'U nev er ha ve me," ancl wal ks into the nearby cabin. As she en te rs the cabin, Peter transforms back into Fred M ad ison. At the m ome nt when Peter is a bout to "have" Alice, he loses her: the fa ntasy dissolvcs, and he falls ba ck into his identity before the fantasy. This transformation re veals, as Slavoj Zi ze k notes, "that the fantas m atic way out was a false exit, that in all imaginable/ possible universes, failure is what awaits us."26 Getting too close to "having" the bntasy object triggers the disso lution of the fantasy. Peter can only " have" A lice insofar as he doesn't, insofar as Mr. Eddy's prohibition hars him from completely enjoying her himself. This is a crucial scene in the film beca use it reveals so cleady the limitations of L1ntasy. Though it appears to promise us di rect access to the object, fantas y always fails to achicvc this access. The momen t at which we would actuaU y enjoy the object directly in the fantas)', the object gets up and wa lks away, and the fantas)' structure it self dissolvcs. Fantasy requires sorne distance if it is to rema in pleasur abl e and stable.
Th e Compulsion to Repeot
After the dissolution of the fa ntasy, Fred once again encounters the M ystery M an as he goes in th e cahin to look for A lice. F red inqu.ires ahollt Alice to the Mystcry Man, but the Myste ry Man refuses to recog nize Alice's existence. As a superego ic force, he de mands al! o f Fred's enjoyment for himself, not even allowing him the smaU ration of enjoy ment the fantasy provides him in compensation for his sacrifice of cle sire . T he M yste ry Man tells Fred, "T he re is no Alice . H e r name is Re nee. If she told you her name was A lice, she was Iying." A fter forcing Fred to ac know ledge the nonexistence of the fantasy object (an object of enj oyme nt), the M ystery Man begins to qllestion F red an d to pursue him with a vid eo came ra. H e asks, " And yom n~ulle ~ W ha t lhe fuck is yotl r name?" In chasing Fred w ith a carn era amI d ~l1la n ding that he pro nouncc bis name, the Myste ry M all:lI tl·llI r ... ln ro lll p\.l Frcd lO fu lly rej ec t fantas)' fo r the social reali ry. a rv:d itv 11 1 Wllll ll ' Hl~'s lla me illcli-· cates one 's place.
111
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Once F red takes up this place, it signals a successfu J internali za tion of the la w a nd installatiol1 óf t he su pe rcgo as the in ternal agen cy of the law. Ir also signals th e disappca ra oce o f all enjoyment, eve n the enjoy m e nt attached to the fantasy. T he p resence ofthis en joyment bl oc ks th e identification wi th the fa ther, w hich installs the superego within the psyche beca use it sustains the [a ther as an external barricr to th e e njoy m ent of the fantas)' objcct. On ly with the dissoJu tio n of the fan tasy can the internalization of the father as superego full y take pl a ce.~7 After the fantasy has dissolved an d F red has accepted his symbolic mandate, he is able to kili the father (M r. Eddy) w ith the help of the Myster y !vhn because the father is, at this point, b ut a remnant .of the fantasy. A fter Fred has in ternalized rhe paternal authority, th e Mystery Man can shoot Mr. Eddy in the head beca use exte rn al aut horit y is no longer necessa ry ro control F reci 's beha vio r; he has thoroughly intro jected this autho rity now in the for m o f the sllpe rego. W hen th e Mys tery Man shoots M r. Ed dy, the bearer of the la w, we see an enactm ent of what L acan describes in Seminar 1: "The supe r-ego is at o nc a nd the same time the law and its d es truc tion."Úi T he supe rego is rhe comple tion of the fath c r's functi o n and thus re nder s the fa ther un necessa ry. N ot ool y is the ta ther ll nnecessary, but he also offers a poten tia l for sub version tba t the su percgo doeso 't. As an ex ternal auth ority, ir is ta r eas ier to transg ress the fa ther's auth ority tha n th at ofthe supe rego. W hen the au thority of [he external fath er becomes uon eccssary and the au thority of th e su perego becom es fir mly entrench ed. we can be su re that the subject (F red, in this case) has complete ly giVC Il up his dcsire, sacri ficed it to the la w. In maki ng this sacrifice, Fred ga in s access to the fa th er's secret, the secret of the law, a nd this secret is w hat rh e M ystery Man w h ispers into F red's ear afte r he kills M r. Edd y. W ha t is rhe la w 's secret ? That the law is nothing bll t its secret, that the father ne ver rea ll y was alive w ith enjoyrne nt, exccpt in the fantasy of the sOO. This becomes ev iden t w nen the Myste ry Man , jusI: p rior to shooting hirn, presents Mr. Eddy w ith a video screen that dis p lays the latter in his obscene e nj oy men t. W hat we sce on the scree n, how ever, is not M r. E ddy enj oying hi m sel f, but him watching other peoplc ell joy. T he fath er, th e m aster of enj oymen t, turns out to be capable onl y of watc hing nthers cn joy, Ilot enjoy ing hilll sd f. In th is sense, the fact thM Mr. E d d y is a pornogra phe r ma kcs pcrf"(:ct ~t:n Sc. W h ile we may I m¡lgin c i .t., (;tllI¡i , i7.~·-t h a t lhe IlQ fl1 l1gr:tphcr i!> ("()II ~tant l y awash in
j
OH H I C ll wA Y
1 / .<
enjoym ent, he is actua lly constantly awash in lht.: e njoy m ent of o the rs,
one :lfter his successful integration in to rhe social order and one prio r to
an enjoyment that he merely obser ves . The Mystery Man lets F red
it. The latter m o m ent is, in actual ity, inaccessible to us, though we con
know that the Fa ther has neve r held th e secrel of en joying women , as
stantly imagine that we a re accessing it. This is w h y the fi lm shows
F red had previously supposed, anu that Mr. E d dy is an impotent p re
Fred as he drives hom e and tells himself through the intercom of his
tender. As Lacan puts it in Seminal' VlI, ") f for us God is dead , it is be
house, "Dick L aurent is d t.:ad" -th e reby repeating the o pening scene of
cause he alw ays has bee n dead , and that's what F reud says . He has never been the fa th er except in the m ythology of the son."2<} In other
the film (bu l this tim e from outside th e house). In tclling himself that " Dick Laurent is dead," Fred is trying to make clear to himself tha t the
word s, Mr. Eddy's enjoymcnt, his vitaJity, o nl y existed within F r ed 's
father (Dick Lau rentlM r. Eddy) who b e supposes to be enjoying women
fantasy, insofa r as Fred supposed its ex istence. F red can no \\! kno w this secret of the law beca use he ha s al ready sacrih.ced hi s obj ect, and, hav
is alread y dead. If he couId communica te thi~, he would save himsdf the sacrifice uf the object to a oead aurnority. But the communication
ing made this sacrih.ce, he rep resents no th reat to this law. It is thus nnl y
misses the mark. Rathe r than a lJ aying Fred 's suspicio ns that som eone
a fte r having sac rificed our enjoyment to the law that we learn thi s is a sacrifice made in va in.
e1 se is enjoying R e nee, this remark m ade throug h the interco m actua lly
In practice, of course, such a completely successful interpellati o n eve n if only te mporary, as in thi s case-n evc r actually occurs . Th at is,
\\le nevc r get to the point whe re we no longer require the external rep resenta ti ve of the la w. It occurs in Lost Highway because the film hold s social rea liry and fantasy separate. E xccpt for Lynch 's excessi vely nor
se rves to multipl y them (ir not to trigger thern itselD-again launching Fred on the pa th w e havc just wit nessed for the last two hours. The Fred Madison w ho knows th e truth Aees down the lost hig h way after inform ing his counterpart a baut D ick La urent's dea th , and as the film end s, h e begins to have a nothe r breakd own, ano ther Aight iOla
m al perspective, the process o f accepting one's symbolic m a ndate neve r
a new fantasy. The sho t of Fred's breakdown e nds th e film , and it in di cates ma t che cycle we have secn w ilI play itself out agai o a n d aga in. He
w o rks in ap ure form, completely unaccompani ed by fanta sy. Fan tasy
can escape into fantasy, but it will never provid e rhe relief it prom ises.
doesn't completely dissolvc, but con tin ues
By bringing the fi lm arou nd again to the p lace w here it begins, L ynch revcals tha t th e rela tionship between d esi re and fa ntasy is un
to
function as a su pple m en t
to this process. Because wholly accepting o ne's symbolic m andate re quires a forfeiting of one's enjoyment, it tends to a rouse diswntent, as
dcrw ri tten by certain constancy. We a lte rnate between the expericnce
we see in the C:lse of F red. At the momen t of subm ission ro the la w
of desi re and tha t of fantasy: fa ntasy succceds where desi re fai ls. Desire keeps th e object o ut of reach, and fantasy offe rs us access to it. But \ovhat
th e moment of the supe rego's com plete introj ection- Fred should be a pe rFectly docil e subject. He is be reft of eve n im ag in a ry, subs titute en jo ymcnt. Instea d of bein g docile, howevc r, F red respo nds w ith a re newed erfon
tú
subven the power of the law. Withou t th e supp le m e n
L ost Highway sh ows is tha t in the last instance th ere is no difference be tween success a nd failure: even w hen we const ruct a scenario that al lows us to have the impos sible o bject, we cannot possess the key tha t
tal, substitute enjoyme nt w hich fantas)' provid es, pa n o f the control
re nders the ob jecr enjoya bl e. H av ing the impossible object embodyi ng
tha t the law has ove r Fred eva porates. We thus see the w ay in w hich th e
the u ltimate e nj oyment show s us the exten t to which we rea ll y don't
imaginary enjoyment that fanrasy provides assists in the process of cre
have it. The speculative id e ntity of o ur social rea lity a nd our private
ating contented, d ocile subjects. T his becumes appare nt in L ost High
fantas ies becom es a pparent throug h the failur e immane nt in success.
way as we see \¡vhat happens when fantas)' is absent .
Both soc ia l realiry and pri vate fa ntas ies ci rcula te a round a fund a mental
At this po int, F red thinks that if he can commu nicate rhe secret o f
im possi bility, rhough they figure th is impossi bility in opposing m odes.
the law to h irn scl f prior to th e sacrifice ofhis desi 1'1':, Ihe n ht.: \>vill be able
As we al terna te between the m, we con tinue to endure the impossibiJity of the obj ect.
ac t upon h is recogrtilio l1 . In de picting ¡:n'" in :1 11 ,ll tl' l lI p' tu com n'l u nicate w ith him,cl f, Ly nch is ag;¡i ll ~l' p, If ,I I III~ wlil ll Wt ,,,,,.dly cxpcri .. to
ence as so rnethillg sC:J lllkss. F rc'd
I/~
II IJ ~
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' , ,,'1 lr) I Ytl C It
I , ... , '
In'Ie ¡Il 'wr. diftl If"lIt IIHII IH:nts:
o r all Lyltr t. 's fil ms, Lo.ít High l//l/\I st.:e m s tI) ha\'e rhc most critica l a ttit lll k 111 \\>, 11 " L l llm ~y. T h . . f':l nt:l\II1 :lIi< l"\":'1 W Iw \ (m) c'i (I n ;lvenue
I IlI r .¡¡ w"y
17
through which the suhject réturns to the social reali ry it escaped; fantas matic success hecomes identical wáh failure. But these qualifications of fantasy's power should not be seen as part of an ind ictment of fantas )' as such. An absolute commitment to raatasy is, even in Lost Highway, the controlling force in Lynch's filmmaking. It is only the commi tm ent to fantasy that reveals the ahsence of an alternative and the failure inhcr ent in every success. Paradoxically, without the tUffl to fantasy, we would remain duped by the alternatjve possihility tha t fa ntas)' promises and appears to provide. The turn to fa m asy ¡lIustrates for us the iden tity of where we're escaping from and where w e're escaping to, and by seeing their speculativc idcntity, we can transform our relationship to the ruling symbolic structure. We can stop contcn ting ourselves with fantasizing an alternati\iC world and instcad work to reveal this alter
EIGHT The Ethics ofFantasizing in The Straight Story
native world that is already in our midst. 30
An Absolute Commitment to Fantasy (n 1999, Ly nch, a di recto r kno wn for images of extre me violence and expli cit sexu al ity, an d D av id Mamet, a director kno w n for w itty, p rofaniry-laced d ialogue, mad e fi lm s tiJ at received G ratings from the Motíon Pi cture Association of Amcrica. O n thi.s leve! alone, Lynch's The Straigllt Sto!"y and Ma mct's Tlle WifIJlow Eoy re p resented d ram atic departures for each director. It almost secms as if they made these films in order lO con fo und aud ienc es and critics. Thc irony of the Grating (u ncommon for any mains tream ad ult release) for a Lynch or Mamet fil m created th e k ind of shock that both aimcd to produce within their films w he n (me simply saw an ad verti se ment for them. Lynch became acquainted w ith the script for The Straight Story through cowriter Mary Sweeney, his longtime romantic partner and editor, and part of its ap peal for him was perhaps the incongruity of the story and the expecta tions surrounding his name. Most viewers of Lync h's films rega rd The Straight Story as an excep ci onal fil m . l I l scems to stick out am ong Lynch 's film s beea use, as the title suggests, it Iacks the weirdness and [he fo rmal eccentricities that one ex pects frOln ,ht"~l' film s. Even th e narrativc, whi ch n::cOunts the trek un dn ta kt' n hv <\ 1\1[1 Strnight (Richard Fa rmw ()II h) on II bw nm owe r to
17'
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r
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177
reach his estranged brother, is straightforward, in direct contrast to Lynch's previous film Lost Highway , w hich has the most com plc:x narra tive structu re ofany ofLynch 's films. The mise-en-sd:ne, the eJiting, the shot composition, the sound-all these elements lack Lynch's usual ex cessiveoess. The Stmight Sto!')! seems almost entirely free from the fantas matic distortion that characterizes a Lynch film ancl provides an arena for the exploration ofthe hidden und erside ofcontemporary socicty.2 But w hat appears to be an absence of fantas m a tic distortion in The Straight Sto,.y is misleading. The deception results from the na ture of the fantasy it presen ts-the American heartland as a site of authentic community- and the extent to which we cannot see the film as fantas matic indica tes the extent of our investment in the fantasy that it pre sents. The exaggerated purity of the American hea rtland in the film is an index of the film's fantasma tic disrortion, indicating that this distor tion is fully at work in T lze Straight Sto,-y. The film's central characte r comm its himself to the logic of fantasy in a way that no character in an other Lynch film does. A lvin Straight constructs a fantasy w hereby he can trave! by himseLf hundreds of miles , despi te a disabili ty that pre vents h im from driving, and reu nite w ith his est ranged brother Lyle (Harry Dean Stanton). Alv in never d ev iates from his effort ro rea lize this fantasy despite the trauma attachcd to it, and his commitmen t has a direct effect on the structure of the fil m . The poin t is not that we mus t take the titl e o f T he Straight Story ironically and view the film through this le ns. As N icholas Rom bes poin ts out, the temptation to inte rpret Lynch \ fi lOl s as ironie reflec ts our own cul tu ral immersion in irony as spectators rathe r than anythi..ng about the fil ms themsel ves . He claims, "Lynch's films were among the first ro move beyond postmod ern ism 's ironic, parodic a pprop riation of historical genres and narrative conventions, and ... to this day read ings of Lynch as 'ironic' persist because irony has become the domina nt forOl of reading in a culture that recognises narrati ve (historical, politi calor otherwise) as mere pe rformance."3 T he urge to interpret Ly nch ironicaJly reaches a pea k w ith The Straight Sto/y beca use the alternatlve seems to req uire agreeing with fierce Lynch critic Jeff J o hn ~on 's assess ment that "Ly nch's vision of America in T he Stm ight Stmy fis] even more m ythical than the Re publican Nal i()nal Cllll1l11iuc(."'s." ;! If we in terpret the film a~ ironie, we can ;,1 k; l'a illl;lJ.!il\t:' 'IIIIH' t!iswncc bctwcc n the film m aker of HLut: I/dVC·l alld dijo, \ 1_11111. 1111: Iflll1il ill lt'rp rt: I;lt inn
1/11
1111
IMP 05~ lbll
(¡ •..v l li 1.'(NI; 1t
also inserts distance betwec n Lhe spccta to r amI the screen, prorecting us from w hat we see there. Wc tbus ap pear to be sruck, as are many critics ofLynch, betvvccn an ironic read ing and a reading that dismisses Ly nch as a thoroughly reactionary filmmaker. There is a diffcrcnce, howc ~o cr, between the m yths of the Republican Nationa'l Committee anc1 the filmic fantasy th at David Lynch constructs in The Straight Stmy. Though neithe r the title no r the fi lm is ironic, it is avowedly-and this is w har Johnson misses as a viewe r of T he Straight Story aoel of every Lynch film-fantasmati c. T his m eans that th e film encourages us ro view the world that ir d epi cts as a world of fan tas)'. 1t does this in the way thar L ynch's films typically do--b y creating a di vide betwee n a world of desire aod abscncc and a contrasting wo rld of fantasy. Wha t Joh nson calls the "absurd rcaJi sm " of the fantasy world docs not reinforce but rcveals the f,lO tasmatic status of the typical rn yths of the American heartlancl. s Ly nch presents hi s m ythicaJ image of th e hea rtland not as real ity but as the res ult of an extreme fantasmatic d istortion. Th is does not mean that Lynch aim s to decon struct these A meri can myths in orde r to destroy their ideo logical t:ffectivc ness. The Straight Story nei ther affi rms no r undermines rhe image u f America it proffe rs. Instead, the film ill ustrates p recisely w har ir would take to cons truct such a m yth icaJ world. One can llave the my thical Am erica, but o ne m ust create it rhrough ad opting the p ro per artiLU clc towa rd fantasy. The approp riateness of the ti tle of The Straight Story stems from Ly nch's belie f that one arri ves at the straight throug h fanta!imatic dis tortio n. That is to say, we construct our reali ty through a fantasy struc ture tha t strips away the m yste ry inhering in our quotidian experi ence. Pa ntasy fills in the ga ps of o ur dail y lives and thereby secu res our feel ing that th is ex perience is "rcal. " W ithout fantasy, our reality would be bizarre, mysterious, and ultimatcly incoherent-prccisely akin to tb e world of desire in a L ynch film . In this scnse, ir is entirely app ro p riate that L ynch's most authenticall y fantasmati c film bears the title The Straight 5tory.
Material Lack
U nlike Ly ll Lh'., Iltner fi lms, the
,1~ .. "
. lI r ,H ORY
1/'1
film form as th rough rhe situation of the main ch a racte r A l vin Straighr. Tho ugh the first thirty minutes of the film wo rk to es tablish a n atti
gine in neutral. Not onl y is A lvin una ble to ca re for himself, he must rely n n othe rs who can baxel y care fr)[ th emsclves.
tude of desire through mise-en -sd:ne a nd editing, more im po rtantl y it focu ses on Alvin as a disabled, lacking slIbject. 6 Lync h es tablishes a
how he represents hilllself to others" Outside the doctor's office he stub
His pathos lies in the gap betwee n his actual situati o n as a subjcct and
world of dcsire through his initial depiction of A lvin's infinnity and his
bornly resists going to see thc docto r (Da n F lann ery) and once inside cat
inability tu ca rc for himself. Each scene in the beg inning of the film highlights this inability and reveals it as irremediable. F ro m these
egoricalIy rej ec ts tests, X-ra ys, and a wa lker.\Ve ha ve aLready seen A lvin
scenes, it is cIear that the only possible sollltion fo r Alvin \Vi II be ;] fan
fessing his strength and independence, he highlights his near-total de
tasmatic one.
pen dence on the O ther for both physical "id and symbolic recognition . The doctor says, "If you don't m ak e some changes quickly, there wil! be
After establishing shots of a field and a small tow n main street, the
incapacitated, a nd this defiance seems more comic than heroie: by pro
narrative of the film commences with a scene that reveals A lvin as a
some serious consequen ces," but Alvi n reports to Rose, "He said J was
figure of lack and emphasizcs the role of absence in this filmic world.
going to li ve to be a hundred." He is al! the more the figure oflack insofa r
We see a shot of a white house with a woman sunbathing in the ya re!
as he artem pts to a void facing the incontrovertible facts of his situation and replace those facts with a pose of self-a ss urance .7
next to the house. After th e woman gets up and walks into the house next door, we hear a thud emanate from the white house. The woman returns to her lawn chair hav ing missed the sound a nd resumes sun
The first pa rt of the film emp hasizes our lack as spectato rs as wel l beca use it e mphas izes what we don' t see rather than what we do. We
bathing. A fri end comes look in g for A lvin, a nd we fi nd out th at the
expe rience the key scenes in this part ind irectl y: the prim ary action oc
sound was Alvin fal!ing-and he is stilllying prone on the floor.
curs outside the frame, and we hea r it vvhile seeing som cthing else. As
Lynch introduces the protagonist only on the film's audio track as a
he often does, Lynch crea tes d esire throug h a disju nc tion betwcen the
thud, visual!y present in the scene a s a n a bsence. Even the sou nd of his
visua l and audio track s. By leav ing the ce ntra l action outs ide the frame,
fal! remains unhea rd within the diegesis beca u se th e ne ig hbor goes into
Lynch place s the spectator in m e place of th e des iring subject a nd en
her house at the exact time of the fall. In addition , the type of sound the thud of him falling to the fl oor-tha t marks A lvin's d ebut in the
cou rages us ro recognize ourselves as lacki ng . A bsence becollles prese nt in ou r expe rience of the fi lm . This occu rs w hen Alvin fall s at the begin
film bespeaks his incapacity. N o t o nly is he unabl e to w alk even wi th the aid of hi s eme, bu t he can't manage to signal fo r assistance w hcn he
n ing of the fi lm, and ir happe ns again w hen we le;¡rn a bo ut L ylc's strok e, the evcnt that t riggers A lvin's journey.
does fall. When Alvin's frie nd Bud (J oseph A. Ca r penter) finall y e nters the house and se es Alvin helpless on the Aoor, we see Sud, th e next
The scene begins with a shot of A lvi n and Rose sittin.g in the hOllse looking out a win dow at night during a storm. W e see th e storm h ere
door neighbor Dorothy (Jane Ga ll oway), aod A lvin's daugh te r Ro~e
indirectl y, throug h the exp ressioIlS on the faces of A lvin and Rose, as
(Sissy Spacck) having a discussion w h ile A lvin re m ains on the floor.
wel l as through the Aashes oflightning that briefly iIlumin ate the room.
he extended time that A lvin lies on tbe Aoor afier someone has fo und
As they look o ut the wimlow, the phone rings in the kitchen, and the
him renders this helpless position even more conspicuou s than it oth e r
film cuts to Rose walk ing to an swe r ¡t. D uring the tclephone conversa
\Vise would be.
rio n that she has, however, we return to a visual of Alvin looking out
lm mediatel y after this scene, we see Bud d ri vi ng A lvi n to t he d octor. The very fa ct that Al vi n requ ires someo ne tn dr ive hilll attests
a t th e storm, as we hear Rose talking in the background. Beca use we
hi s
only hear R osc 's side of the con versa tion, the a mount of informa tion
lack of ind epen dcn ce, bu t the way thal Blld drivn hil1l unckrlines this
we receive is limjted. She says, "HelI () .. . m is is .. . Rose . .. ycah .. .
poinr. W e see Bud, A lvi.n, and Rose in Bll d\ 11 1.1
I:lr 111 ~ 1 a~
to
lhey are
about ro a rri vt at the docto r. Bud ¡, dr ,vll1g , 11I\\'ll dl.lll dw nvcragl' pe rs <) n migh t wa lk, amI whl..' lI he lill¡t1 I) -'''' 11 .; llit~
IHII
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OA V 'lI I.YI\j, : II
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Iw li1~e' tl u:
l '"
yea h " .. O h IH/ ••• U ncle Lyle .. . W hen? ... OK . . . 1'11 leIl him .. . yc:a h .. . 01' . . . hyc, bye." H c r stltll (· r ha, tll e efll;ft uf rn aki ng this -rypl ic l" 11 11 \ t 1 \al " 111 I ve n more. <¡o , ],111 i I I ~ . I pp:II (· 1i 1 tI! :1 I , ofl1cthi ng h:1 5
'lit '
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IHI
happened to Uncl e Lyle . W hen she return s to Al vin, Rose tells him , "Th at was Bobby .. . Uncle Lyle had a ... a stro ke." Just as Rose says this, a Rash of lightning brightens the room, and a cl ap of th under so unds . Th e del ay between app rehend ing th at an important eve nt has oc curred and lea rning what this event is characteri zes a world of desire. F or the d esiring subj ec t th e object neve r appea rs exac tly w here--o r when-lhe subj ect anticipates it. Thi s d is,onn ec t between the subject and its object h as th e cffec t of const itu ting ao object as the obj ec t. The privil eged obj ect i ~ the privi lcged object insofa r as w e arri ve too soon or too late to appreh end it. Perh aps the scene that draws the dearest contrast betwee n th e open ing world of d esire and the worlJ of fantasy in The Straight Story is one ,;v ith no relation to Al vin's journey. W hen we see it initiall y, it seem s tu be nothing but a m oment of Lynch's typical we ird ncss, a m o ment w ith out any na rrati ve im portance. After Alvin lea rns of hi s b ro the r's cond i tion, we see a snot of Rose talkin g on the phone at nigh l whil e looking out the kitchen wi ndow. Ly nc h cuts from a shot of Rose look ing te> a shot of what she sees out the w indo w: a ball roll s into th e fr am e, and a boy run s to pick it up an u stands w ith it in the midd le of the [rame. Af ter seeing the boy, we see Rose agai n looking out the win dow contem plativel y. View ing the fi lm fo r the fi rst time, one can have no idea wh y Rose is look ing at the boy in the way toat she is o r why Lynch includes th is scene in the film . In th is wo rld , the speclator ex periences herlhim sel f in a state of non-knowledge, attempting to d ec ip her the desire of the O thee (that is, the fi lm itse lf) that in fo rms the ioclusion of the sccne. Th e w orld of fa ntasy, in contrast, fill s these gaps and p rov ides th e spec tator wi t.h a se nse of know ing the w hole sto ry. N ea r th e beginnin g of A lvin 's fantasma tic journey, we lea rn the bac kground of this mysteri ous scene . A lvin tell s runaway teen C rys tal (A nas tasia Webb), w hom he bcfriends , che story of Rose's child ren . Be cause of a fire th at badly burn ed one of Rose's four ch ildren whjle Rose had left them w ith a babysjtte r an d becau$e of her men tal d isabili ry, th e state too k custod y of al! her chil d ren. H ea rin ~ th is accoun t of R ose's history allow s us to rev isi t the secmin gly IHIIl Sl'nsictl scc.:ne uf the boy pick ing up his ball a nd to u ndcrsl,1I1d !I w IIII óll l iIl g 111:11 Ihi s im ~lgc he ld fo r Rose. But as spectators we.: pt l"- / I.I/ t' tlIt. " /y·.11 I y , d IIIt ~ccn c only afte r "ve have clll l'ru l lhe \Vor ld lIt L lllt . I ~". Ilv rt¡ 1 " .h\llI(\~ I "i ~ t:O /ll ra\ t
181
1111 I Mrl'}UIU II IJAV l lI l'ltl t ll
betwee n an initi al expe ri ence oCnon -k nowledge and a la ter expe rience of fuI! knowledge, Ly nch afflr ms in a way that he often d oes the dis tinction betwcc n the world of dcsirc and th e worl d of fa ntasy. T h is dís tincti on holds not just fo r A lvin ~lS a charactt:.r within the filmic diegesis but also for us as spec ta to rs rela ling to the fi lm as a wo rk of arto
Narrating What Isn't There
W hat The Straight StOIY ma kes clear is to at fa ntasy a ppeals not beca use it sol ves our desire but because it explaios w hat desire Icaves inexpl ica ble. Thi s bccom es appa rent w ben w e con sider how the world of fa n tasy all ows us to unde rs tand th e earl ie r scene w here Rose sta res out the w in dow at the boy holding a ball. Most fundamen ta ll y, fa ntasy se rves as a m od e of und ersta nding. The turn from a world of des ire to a wo rld of fantasy is not a turo from th e lack of th e im poss ible o bj ect to the fuI! p resence of thi s object. Fa ntasy places lhe lac k in a narrative COntcxt that rend ers it se nsible. O nce we tu ro to fan tasy, we cease to be baunted by él nonse nsica ll ack and begin to confront one that we ca n u ndersta nd. L ac k loses its ontologica l character and acquires a m ea n ing. A lvin's fa ntasy does not returo him to his youth o r reunite him wi th a n im possible love, and in this scnse perhaps ir is a less ambitious fan rasy than we usu a lly n nd in a Lynch fi lm. Howeve r, it d oes all ow hi m to accom plish a tas k t hat appea rs impossibl e from w irhin his sym bolíc coorJi na te5. Eve ryone w ithin the filmic reali ty d ism isscs the pos sibi lity of Alv in's t ravcling hundreds of miles on a lawnm ower to see bis brother. Bis feiend s m oc k him for even consid cn ng it, and his da ug h ter Rose ¡ists ;1 11 the fac loes (his d isabili ty, the d is tance, and so on) th at m a ke th e trip impossible. 8 Even Tom (Eve rett McGi ll ), the sales pe rson w ho se lls A lvin th e mower th at w ill ta ke him on lhe journey an d wh o ex presses wa rm sympa thy toward him , says that he has always thougbt of A lvin as an intelligent guy until he hCJ rd about thi s schem e. N ot one othe r cha racte r in th e film believes th at A lvin has a ny ch ance of accomplish ing wha t he sets OUt to d o. When the fi lm turns from the world of desire to th e wo rld of fantasy, we do oot sec a radical change in rnise-en-sce ne as we d o in Lost High way Jnd Alvin cl oes not appell as a d iffcrent Jcto r in order to aCCO tn pl ish the impI¡ss iblc. We do, howc ver, sc<: SO/Tl t.! ~ igo ificant ch anges on Ihe Icvd ,,1 111 111 1;l flll as Lynch i n truJ ul·t: ' 11It' L II11;15 Y w(~ rld . The bc
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1 '.A ll j lll
-:rOR'I"
lIu
ginning of the fantasy occasions a change in music as Angelo Badala menti's "Alvin's Theme" begins to play. The camera tracks slowly along the middle of a road looking straight down on the middle linc and then pans over to Alvin's movver driving down the sioe ofthe road. After a pan to th e roaa stretching out in th e distance, the camera tilts to the blue sky ano finally back to Alvin's mower. This series of pans leads to a sequence of sweeping hdicopter shots of the fowa fields, including one showing a combine harves ting crops. This introouction to the fan tasy world emphasizes its grandeur and beauty. Whereas relatively small sets characterized the world of desire (Alvin's house, the interior of the ge neral store, tlle: main street of the small town), Lynch estab lish e:s the se:tting in the world of fantasy as vast open space repl ete with possibility. The use of lo ng pa nning shots, which begin with Alvin 's trip, helps to create: this se nse of openness as wel\. This shift in the film's fol'msuggests that the turn to fantasy allo\Vs Alvin to transcend the limitations that were so conspicuous in the beginning of the film. The expansive external world might serve to emphasize Alvin's small ness and the hopeless ness of his task, but Lynch visuali zes no dis junction bctween Al vin and th e envi ronment during his trip. As Joe Kemhe r notes, "Represen tation in The Stmight Story persists in this ac qui esce nce a nd subordinarion to the environm en t. Aerial shots tra vcl across ha rvest scenes, a nd subjecti ve shots reprod uce Straight's prog ress ac ross th e country." 9 The bndsca pe during the journey cl ea rly hold s a place for Alvin as a presence where the limited world ofhi s hometow n ofLlurcns accommodatt:d him p rim arily as an abse nce. T he mos t im portant changes occur within A lvin himsel f. Whilc in the midst of accomplish ing m e impossible within this fantasy, Alvin undergoes a complete tra nsfo rmation. Though he rem ains disablcd and now requires two ca nes just to walk, he ceases to be a pathetic fig ure when he ente rs the world of fanta sy. H e becomes a hero struggling to accomplish th e impossible and offers wise ad vice to a young run away, befriends numerous people during th e trip, and is able, for the firs t time, to confess his guilt about a fri endly-fi re incident th at occ urred during W orld War JI to a fello w ve tera no The new image of independence is pc:rperllatl:J by his systematic rc fusals of ass istance: he W()l1 't sl ee p in rhe f{j ... d alll., ' III)usc: ór acce r t a [i de fo r th e rest of the trip, fm L' xallll'l, I k lVI tt 1, IV(" money lI nder the phone for a long di~l.II Kt 1':111 rh.1 111' IlI r d,~s 11111" H¡t)r<"' n~' hl)usr. 111·1
rll l
IMP O~S I U lf
W hen hi s mower brea ks d ll \V1l h,: 11" R().~c send him bis social secu rity check in ord er to pay For r/1l' n·p.dh, .ind when rhe O lsen twin:; (Kevin Farley and John Parley) fl x il . h~ h.l rg.lim with them fol' a bette r price. Though he rcmaim old. : I.~(' 1111 Illllgcr incapacita tes him but actual ly ennobles hi lll, providill,l!; 1/1 ,: \\ ¡,¡f!lm :Ind experiencc rh at oth er charac ters lacle Though we dCltl'!"wirm'~~ ;lny ex ternal transform ali an in AI vin betvvecn the hegi nn iflg C1frllC Fil m ano his journey, he non etheles$ becomes a totall y diff,:n: nr /.. ind !Ir l>ub ject when he enters rhe fa ntasy world of the jourm;y. But this transFn rma litl rJ docsn't OCcur al! at once. Initi aUy, Alvin 's fantasy includes a fa ¡¡ u r!,!. :1 ~ lhe firsr mower that A lvin uses to attempt the journey break s down af(cr (lnIy a few mil es. If d Ie beginn ing of AI vin's trip to se\.' his brothcr represcnts [he o lm 's lUrn to fantasy, thc in c! usion of the initia l fail un: 01" the trip seems stra ngc. Thc failllre of AI vi n 's first erfon to rea ch his brorher reveal s rhe nature of attitude towa rcl the im possible tas k he (aces. He is wilIjng to endu re wha tever humil iarion he cncounters hccause his fOCU5 is on rhe impossibl e task, not On the Orbe r wa rcni ng him. He emboJics the fu ll commitmen t to one's fantasy.
rus
When the fi rst mower breaks dow n, Lynch shows A Ivi n ha ving just left his hometown of Laure ns. A Iarge truck passes and creales such
ever, the tan tasy offc: r~ A Ivin a way ofovcrcom ing this weakncss.
A fter Alvin returns ro La urcns, humi liated, with his mower on the back of a tru ck, he approach es Tom, the John Deere salespe rso n, about purchasing anothe r mower. This transacti on affirm s A lvin 's position wi thin the famasy beca use ir affords him él privi leged status. Tom trC\' nt.:rs h:lve 111¡liI1l:1i/ll·d thcm . Th i, c!a im t'u ncr illtl \ fll lldl'lltll l\; r1 lv ;1, ;111 a("(jl'lllurioll uf ,\ /, in\ potcncy: in th<;
r' AV l O 11' " , 11
n,.
~ i lll\liJli J
' ¡. ay
1M
fantasy world, he rese mbl es the sturdy old mowe r, not the frail old man
have hit thir teen deer in ~eVl" 11 \VL'l.'k~ clriv ing do wn this road ... and 1
from the first part of the film. The fantasma tic trip does not simpl y allow Alvin to beCüme indepen
dinner, and later he placcs lbe
dent and to overcome the weakness he displayed in the wo rld of Jesire. It
trophy.
continues the image of him as a w eakened, lacking subject, but w ithin
lave deer." In the subsequc nt ~c:<.: n c. \Ve see Alvin cooking the deer for
The narrati ve trajecror y [film lrauma to triumph rcaches ies high
the famasy he has the capaci ty ro 6.11 this lack . Lynch does not just divide
poim when Alvin's m owe r brea ks dow n toward the end ofhis journe)'.
the film between the vvorld of desire and the world of fantas y; he al so di
Heading down a steep híJI, lile bel t o n Alvin's mower hreaks, \eaving
vides the filmic fantasy itselfbetwee n Alvin's experiences oflack and his
him with no way toslovv the m owe r
expcriences of overcomil1g it. The former occurs primarily while A lvin
the mowe r finall)' comes to a stop at the botto m of the hi11 , the incident
travels on the road-as, for instance, when his first m owe r breaks
scares A h . in and displa)'s one m o re tim e his powe rlessness. L)'nch cap
dow n-and he finds respite at th e va rious points where he stops his jour
tures Alvin's feeling of terror w irh close-ups of a panicked look on his
ney. Tbe fantasy thus establishes a narrati ve moveme nt from traumatic
LlCe and close-ups ofhis han ds framicalI y trying to stop the mower.
experience on the road tú the mitigation of this trauma at the stopping
After this scare, A lvin mects a community of people that we!comes
poiuts. The fantas): stages trauma only in order to sol ve it, whe rcas the
him a nd embraces h im as a hero in a way that \Ve did not see in Laurens . W hcn Alvin loses control of his mower, five residents of th e tO wn of
world of desire provid es no such soluüon.
Th is dynamicoccurs w hen hundred s of cyclists race past Alvin on the
C lermont-Dan ny R iorda n (J
road. vVh en the first cyclist pa sses him, we see a look of shock on Alvin's
e n), Johnny Johnson (Jim H a un), ancl Janet Johnson (Barbara K ingsley),
fac e, as he je rks tbe mowe r ro the side in fear, and the rn any cyclists that
and Ve rl)'n Hell er (W ile)' H arker)-are sitting on lawn chairs watching
follow el raw attenti on tú A lvin's slow pace as they speed past. The juxta position between the speed ofthe cyclists and Alvin's lack ofspeed visibl)'
rhe local firefighters practice extinguishing a fi re on an old a ba ndom:d house. This exe rcise-and the facr that ir has th e status of a spectator
depresses him, and he once agai n experiences his castra tio n. But that
event-reveals th e dull nature oflife in C lcrmont. A lvin's arrival in jects
night Al vin stops at the campsite, where the cyclists engage h im in con
vitalit)' into this communi ty, and eve ryone bere treats A lvin with a great
versation . A t the en d of th e conversation, one ofthe cyclists ask s. "What's
clca l of respecL W hc reas the peopk o fLau rens saw rhe jo urney 'lS a sign
the w orst part about being old? " A l vin responds, "T he worst part about
of A lvin 's fo olishness , the residents of C le rrnont show reve rence for Al
being old is remember ing w hen you were young." T his sta tem ent has a
vin a nd the magnitu d \;; o fhi s undc rtak iog, despite their m isgiv ings abour
fantasmatic quali ty to it bec.ause it g ives Alvin the la st wo rd with tbe
it. The trau ma thal occurs w hen Alvin loses control ofhis mo wer leads tú
yo ung c)'c1ists, :lnd this last w ord places the cyclists o n the same plane as
the discove ry of lh is commuoity w her e he can find support and re
Alv in. L ynch introduces a cut im media tely after A lvi n says th is, m aking
spect. This is how Alvin's turn to fantas)' providcs a narrati\'c for his ex
it lite rally the l::tst wo rd in the sce ne. The cyclists are not able ro repl y, a nd
perie nce of trauma. It doesn't rem ove the trauma of his experience of
in fact , no repl)' seems thinkahle. T h e fa ntasy structure permi ts Alvin's
incapacity-in fac r, it augmen ts it-but itdoes revcal trauma as part of a
reve nge on the cyclists for their vitali ty. W e recognize-as me cyclists do
nar ra tive that has a successful conclusion.
themsclves-that m ei r youth and agilit)' is Aeetin g a nd that they too w i11 soon become o ld and incapacitated. A similar act occurs soon a fter tbe cncount cr with the c)'clists. A
Fontosy ond Humiliotion
',>voman speeds past Alv in in her car, but jusI Ll f"rcr sh e di sappcars fmm
Alvin's fan lasy d oes oot sim ply provide a w ay for him to narrare and
the fram e, w e he,u a horn honking alld
I
i n'~, ~, !I'n hin g. A close-up u f
Alvin's facc re veals ~I horrihl·J luu k 1I~ lit \I'I' ~ lIi!" fo re she drives o{Twee ping- il)
lH/,
II H
hl' l
l M ll O ', Sl Bl F OAV III \ Vr H : 11
dJr" '~''¡ l .i ll
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11It
hit ~1 det:r. fk
Wl l llhl ll l ¡,;\ l~ h irn . " 1
navig ate hi~ ínfirm iey; it also dema nds tha l he ex puse him self tú th e
Other
al1Ll l· ~pt·(
d i m l,; n ~ií!n ," I
idlly
( e¡
his cstrJnged hrolht: r Lyle, This is th e ethical
III I ,I'.y: "dle ll Wl..;
f'lnw, i/.~·,
\Vl' II p l ' ll 01 I r'id\'cl> to ::1I1
llil
·¡H Alti ¡¡ 1
cxp'-
"", ~Y
IR'
rience ofhumiliation becau se we value our own p riva te enjoym ent over our concern for the O th er's recognitio n. F antasy has thi s ethical dimen sion bccause of the paradoxica l attitude that fantasiz ing subjects adopt toward the Other. They retrea t from th e O the r into private worlds when they fan tasize, but this disregard for the Other a)so creates an unintended openness. Even as fan tasy disguises our subjection to th e Other and creates an i!!usion of independence, it facilitates an encoun ter with the traumatic real insofar as it manifests the inne rmost part of our su bjec tivity externa!!y. In the mid st of fa ntasy, we risk exper iencing our subjectivity w ithout its support in the O th er, without a!! the narra tives of identity that p rovide liS with a sense of self. W e becom c nothi ng but our m ode of obtain ing enj oy ment. The real kernel of the fantasy is the momcnt at which we fu!!y identi fy w ith the impossible object and completely cxternali ze our su bjectivity. Whcn one is completely a bsorbed in fantasy, one experience s one's suprcme vulnerabi lity to the look of the Other, and nothing is more humiliating (han being seen in th e middle of fa ntasi z ing .IOTo respon d to this look and accomm odate the O ther, the sub ject would necessa rily have to abando n the pri vate fa ntasy for the sake of public recogni tioo . The humiliation of the Oth er's look leaves rhe subject with a choice: re main wi thin the fantas y and end ure the Other's look or retrea t from the fan ta sy ancl seek the O ther's recogni tion. By traveling hundreds of miles on a la wnm ower to see his brother Lyle, A lvin exposes him self to frequenr ridicule. H is effo n seems both impossible anc1 ridiculous, and even those most syrnpa t.hetic ro A lvi n find the idea of travel ing by lawn rnower absurdo But wh ile Alv in is in the m idst of this fantasma tic jour ney, he ITIllst sirnpl y endure lhe O ther's look and th e feelings of sh ame that it enge nders. W hen Alvin talks w ith Crysta l, the runa way tee n, o ne n ig ht on the side of the road , we see directly che hurniliation that he rn ust endure. She looks at his m owe r and trailer and says, "What a hunk of junk. " Instea d of answering with an explanaríon that might va lidate him self in her eyes or by countering he r c1aim, Al vin si m pl y says, " Ea t yo ur din ner, missy." An y olhe r response would be an attcm pt to prese rve o r explain his actions in a man ner t hat accollllTlot!,llcs hi m to the Other. E ven rejoi ni ng w ith an insu lt nr a sdf-d ep rcciI i' l ~ ~ l al ("lIlC Il L woulc1 be in furtheranct: of in sin uati ng him sd f" iUlq Ila ( )!l" r'" " olwrt :1I irms. Al vin's res ponse ev inces th t: n.: rllglli li"rl dl ,lIl l1 1111 c).¡! ¡ tl 1'.\11 01 f:u lI :ls y is
1"11
1111
IM I'O~S I(I II
O ... ."ID l °ft' C II
the humili ation th ar it brings. He must remain co mmitted to the logic of the fantasy and not turn back to the Other in order to avoid this humiliation. The humiliation in th e face of the Other reaches its hig h point at the end of the fantasy when Alvin arri ves at his brother 's house. Th e aim of . the fantasy is reconciliation with hi s brother. As Alvin tells the priest (John Lordan) whom he m eets just before arriving at L yle 's, "1 wa nt to rnake peace, look u p at the s tars like we used to do so long ago." In ard er tú accomplish this, howeve r, Alvin must abandon bis prid e and a pproach his brother despite th e argument that separated them yea rs ea rlier. When he arrives at Lyle's house, A lvin places hi mself in a position of suprcme vulnerabili ty. Despite all his effort during the journey, he has no id ea whcther Lylc \-vil! accept or rejec t his gesture of reconciliation. The vulnerability that A lvin must endure here expla ins what occurs when he fin all y turns do wn the road where L yle lives. A fter tu rn ing onto this roa d, Alvin 's mower stalls, and it seems as ifh e won't be a bl.e ro com pl ete hi s journey despite coming w ithin a fe w hund red yards. A series of dissolves depicting Alvi n wairingon his mower give the irnpression tha t he w<.lits for several hours un lil a m ao dri ving a large tractor a rrives. A f ter speaking with thi s man, Alvin tries to sta n h is m ower again , aod it starts, allowing h im to d rive tbe rest of th e way. Ly nch in elu d es this scene no t sim ply toad d suspense toa fi lrn ot he rw ise be rcftof it, bU[ tosbow AI vi n's reluctance to experience the hum iJ iarion ofmeeting his brothe r. Al vi n coulJ ha ve tried to star t hi s m owe r long before che tra ctor arr ived , bllt he didn't because he was wary of conti nui ng. A lvin docs cont inue ro L yle's domoand instead of rejec ting him, Lyle wee ps at lbe en o rmity of A lvin's act. This ending m a rks the successful concl usion ro A lvin 's fantasy, and th e film 's conel ud ing shot-a tilt up to the nig hl sky f u!! of stars-reveals that he has obta ined exactly what he claimed to wan t (Iook ing up at the stars togethe r with hi s brother o ne mo re time). But this conclusion does not rep rcsen t the real kernel of the fantasma tic experience . T hat occurs at the mom en t when Alvin sta nds olltsid e Lyle's h ouse an d ye!! s for his brother, cx posing him self com pletely to possible h umiliation. To fantasize is always to ex pose oneself to the Othe r through th e aet o f externali zing onc's innermost su bjectivity. It is Alvin 's emb race of th is cxperience that transforms him in to an ethical figu re, and his ethic al act does nor rern ai n isolated but Ch:l ll g-CS
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vVhat rend ers th e ethical d im cn sion of fa nta sy visible in A lvin's ca se is his willingncss to immerse himself fully in h i:, hU1tasy. AII subjects fantasi ze , but most of us use fantasy as a pr ivate e ncl ave, a retreat th at su ccors us in light of th e di sappointments we experie nce. W e mak e sure that OUf fanta sies don't intrud e too fa r into OUf p u blic lives. This se rves as self-protec tion, but at the same time, it wo rk s lo eliminate fanta sy's ethical poss ibilities. But through the cha racter of A lvin , Lynch demon strates that a different attitude to wa rd fantasy is poss ible. We might d evote ourseI ves e ntirely to our fantas mati c proj cct and publicly insist on o ur private fantasy.' 2 In doing so, we simultaneously sha tter the limitations that formerly gove rned us a nd, at the sam e time, open our selves to the O ther.
Private Fantasy as Public Ethic The Stmight Story is a film replete with bea uty- the physi cal beauty of Iowa fields and the moral beauty of the American small town. In both cases, we sce this beauty not beca use it ac tuaHy exists but because, as vi ewers of the film, \Ve are looking through th e lens üf Alvin's fantasy. Alvin's total commitm ent to this fa ntas)' distorts üur vision in such a WaY th:l.t w e see a bea utiful world surrounding him. Lynch demonstrates the way th at pri va te fantasy can ha ve 3 n eHect on th e public world. O ur pri vate fantas ies tend ro cause us ro see an evil or corrupt public world that is the result of someone el se-or som e force-perverting the public world by real izing ther e a pri vate fantasy. H egel calls this at titude the law of the heart. T he subj ec t embodying the law of lhe heart ha s a pri vate vision about what is best fo r the public world anu sees only a corruption of that vision in what actually exists. As H egel describes it, such a subj ect "speak s of the uni versa l order as a pe rversion of th e law of the heart and its happin ess, a pe rv ersion in ventee! hy fan a tical priests, gluttonous des pots anc! their minions, who compensate them sel vcs for their own dcg radation by d egrading and oppressing others, a perve r sion whi ch has lec! to th e namel ess misc ry of delue!ed humanity. " " In short, the law of the heart is a paranoid view üf 'the pu blic world, and thi s para noia stcm s fr om the subjec t's belief in it~ ()w n purity. C orrup tion is ra m pant, but the subjcct bears!lo 1"I: \ pCl I\ ~ i h i! il y . T he Straight Story , in contras t, St't's 11 11 ('\'U III IU I d ' l ,rr tl p ti(1O in the puhlic wnrlcl. [t iS :1I1 unti - para noia 11111 1 1'111 l' lt';¡:¡ I !I" (' ,\ Ivi ll i ~ fn,:c 01
" In
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wQrrics about the cxces5ive en joym c nr llf othe rs. Alv in is so committed to his ow n fa ntas y, to bis üw n way uf organ izing enjoy meot, rha t he docs n't en vy [he e njoym c nt of othnl.. He :;eesa non vio lem a nd wel corn ing worl d where m ost coIltem po ra ry subjects see threa ts a nd mc nace. Our view of the oth c r as e m bodyiog excessive e n joym t'nt is always our view: it tells us m uch rn ore about our own subj ecrivity th an it does a bollt ho w m uch othc r~ are really enjoy ing . '4 T hc cn joyment of oth ers bothe rs us-we pc rceive it as excessive-when we ha ve g ive n up on our own en joy m cnt. T be image of exccssively enj oying oth ers is an at tempt to ki ck-start o u r own e n joyment, to regain the ex pCJ-ience th at we feel ou rsel ves tO have lost. We en joy th rough others as we allow the enj oym ent of others to bomer uso T he en vy tha t we cxpe rience is itself a m ode o f enjoying, wh ich we can see in the [aseist's exaggerated re spon se to lh e im age o f che c njoying m inoriry. The p ro blem with this m ode of en joyin g is th a r it fail s lO recog n ize itself as such. T he cn vinus subject feels itselt deprived oEen joyment ra the r th a n e nscon cee! in it- a l ways on rh t: outside of e n joym ent ra th c r th an wi t bin it. To this subject, rhe e nj oyrlll:n l of oth ers does not app ear sim ply as somethi ng t ha t others have and Lhe subject itscl f dües nor, but as sOll1cthing others have ar tbe suh jec l's ex pense. T he image of rhe e n joy ing othe r borhers someone precisely beca use shc/he ex periences ch is en joyme nl as an ind icaüon of her/his own fa ilure to enjoyoI f One is en joying, (me passes over lhe en joyment of others w ithou t finding it d is t urbing. T his is w ha t the envious subjcct, the su bject \Vilo obscsses a bollt enj oy mcnt of othe rs, is u nable ro d o.
T he Straight Story shows A lvin avoiding any tendency tOw ard en vy thro ug h his com m itment to his own fa ntasmatic en joyment. No film in Lynch's ca reer has eng aged in social commenta ry wi thout appea ring lo as lTI ueh as m is one. He sed uces us in to viewing Thc Stnúgh t Story as th e toue hing ua rrative of an indivi d ua l tr ium phing ove r ad ve rsity (as in thousa nd s (l f Holl ywood fí lm s), but w ha t he rea lly a uth ors is a critique of co ntempora ry Ame rican pa ranoia. T he ta rget is l10t lhe corruption a nd viol e nce tha r plag ues the society; in stead , ir is the position that sees and con d em ns tb is viole nce trom the perspective of irs own insul a tcd su periority. In ord er to bes{ understand the rel:llionsh ip between p riva re fa ntasy and thl' 1 1II hli~ wnrld in The Stf(ljg/¡t Stmy, \Ve mu.)t conrra st it w itb Lyn cl l\ n"u , I fiad rilll1, Wild ilf ¡-¡('url. ()n Ih e C>!le h,1I1U, {hey secm like
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radic.:dly different films, perhaps more differcnt than an y two L ynch films. W¡Ld at Heart contains more graphic vi olence , sex, profanity, and criminali ty than any ofhis other film s, and Th e Straight Story is his onl)' G-rated film. Their onl)' common trait seems to be rhe genre (the road film) to which they belong. On tbe other hand , th ere are fund amental t hematíc similarities. Both films concern, in a w ay that no other Lynch films do, the relatio nship between the subject's commitment to fan tasy anJ lhe external world that the subject encoun ters. L ike Lost Highway and MuLholla17d Drive, these films are companion pieces, each showing subjects taking up an opposite attituJe towarJ fantasy. Gi ven the excessiv eness ofWild at Heart, it w ould see m that this film depicts a fuller investment in fantasy than The Stmight Story. But as we have seen in our in vestigation of Wild at Heart, this is not the case. T he ext reme depiction of the external world in Wild at Heart is the result of a failure to be fantasmatic enough, a failure ro sustain an iovesrm ent in fantas)'. The relativc\y tam e and habitable public wo rld depicted in T he Straight Story res ults from Alv in's complete com mitment to his fa ntas)'. By committing himself ro his fantas)', Alvin alters the way that he per ceives an J in teracts w ith th e exte rnal world, and this has th e effect of changing it. Neithe r film attempts to represe nt contemporar)' society as ir reall y is. 8 0th view this society from the pe rspectiv e of th e fan tas)' str ucture of the ma in characters. S:1ilor and Lu la's failure to invest full y in the ir fan tas)' produces a thre
I'n
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securit)' devices, or tries [O proleC:1 hi msc lf or his belongings in any manner at al\. Because he expe ric"ecs me O rher from the pcrspecti vc of his fantas)', he simpl y canllOr cn v i ~ i o n a lh rea t [here.'5 It \-vould be too simple lO :;~I y thal A lvin sees a welcoming world beca use he expects ro see such a wo rld . E xpectations alone would not be enough . A lv in expe riences the world as fundamentally nonthreatening- he escapes the paranoia th at is rampant in contempo rary Ameri can society- becau se he find s enjoyment withi n his fantas)' and insists on follo w ing th is fantasy despite the difficulties it brings. Through the figure of Alv in , Lynch suggests that our paranoia about violent others ou t to steal Ollr enjoyment is me result of a collective fail ure to cornmit ourselves full y to our own fa ntasmatic enjoyment. If we did so, we would no longer fee! the necd to protect ourscl ves from the clangerous other. In The Straight Story , Lynch d epicts an America that is indeeJ, to re mrn to Jeff Johnson's attack, more mytbical than t he Re publican N a tional C ommittee 's ve rsi on. But Lynch also reveals thi s m ythical Am er ica as m ythical-as the producr of a turn to fan wsy. In addirion, he shows the price thar one must pay fo r an A me ri ca w here others cease to be threate ning. O ne m ust, li ke A lvin St raight, fully invest onesel fin the logic of fa m asy and fo llow this logic ro the encounter w ith rhe trau m atic real. Jn doi ng so, one must place onesel f entirely at ri sk. T hi s is the political dimension of Ly nch 's film : no Repu blican National Com m ittee m ember would accepl the risk tll;) t Lynch ~ hows the mythica l A me rica req ui res. In the act of creating it, one finds the inn ermost core of one's subj ecti vi ty ex ternali zed for othe rs to see and to mock. 1t is onl)' lhe ability to experience this ty pe o f humiliation that allows the subject to enjoy io [he real and thus to overcome the idea that a hidden enemy threatens or has stolcn the subject's enjoyment. Only the authentically enjoying subj ect can avoid the paranoia rampant today and become
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HORY
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NINE Navigati ng M ulholland Drive, David Lynch's
Panegyric to H ollywood
Beginning with Se nse W hen officials at ABe fo rced Lynch a nd cocreato r Ma rk F rost to sol ve the m ystery of Laura Palme r's murde r in the midd le oftbe seconcl sea son of Twin Peaks, in Lynch's mind they effecti vely kiLled rhe show. This, along with othe r mistreatment, d ro ve Ly nch to swear off wo rk ing in tel evision. But he broke this vow afte r m ak ing The Straight Sto /'y (1999) and created the pilot fo r Mullwlland Drive, a new series for ABC. The show mel a fate \-vorse tha n that ofTw in Peaks: netw ork executi ves hated the first cut they 5aw of the pilot and neve r aired it, (ven as a cut clow n televi sio n movie. But F re nch co m pany C anal + stepped in ro buy the pilor and aLlowed Ly nch to reshoot and ed it the footage into a fea ture film. 1 D es pite thi s strange production hi sto ry, the structure of the fi lm seem s almost to suggest rhat Lyn ch imagined it fr om the beg in ning as a counte rpoint to Lost H ighway (1997)· Almost eve ryone w ho sees Mulho Lland Drive (200 1) notes that the first part of the film makes a good d eal of sens(: for a David Ly nch film. In contrast to the beg inning of Twin Peal( i: Fin' lVu lk ({Jith Me (199 2 ) o r Lost H ighway , thi s film o pe ns wi th;t rcla li vdy ' Ir:l igln fll rwnrd, ifidio syncra tic, oarrative. A woman e mcrw'" 11' "'' .1 ,'; 11 1 1 .1~1t without nny memo ry, ane! w h ile h iJ ing IJI\! i" .ltI .1(1:111,, 1' l I1 . Ir,~ It.h "IIIII.k ¡li tO, shc
m ects another wo man who hcl p\ hn in the quest to di scover her id en tity. W hi lc th ey are togethn. lllt' tWll fall in love. This, in brief, repre sents the narrati ve trJj ec tu ry of II IC ft rst part of the fi lm , and though there are bi zarrc accomp:lnil rll: l1 rli LO this tra jectory, the basi c n arrat iv e itself mak es sense. Ir sec ms lo hcl ic entirely Stanle y Ka uffmann 's c1aim , in his discussio n of the fi lm 's opcni ng. that ''sense is not th e point: the respo nses are th e point. "· Wltile one m ight be tempted tú agree with Ka uffmann co ncerni ng the fi lm \ concl llsi on , its open ing d efinitely has a hi gh deg ree of coh ere nce. Yt:l it Jl so has a fanta sm atic aura about it th at serves to undermin e t h j¡; cohcrence and to give sorne crede nce to Kauffmann's contentio ll rha t Lynch m ea n s the fir st pan of the film to be more evocati ve than se nsib le . By com bini ng sense with the texture of fan tasy, LyllCh uses the fir:>t part ofMuLholland Drive to expl ore th e role that botas)' has in rendering our experience coherent a nd mea ningfu l. The narrati ve coherence of the opening sectio n becomes especially pron ollnced wh en we contrast it w ith what foll ows. Th e second pa rt of the film is structured around the incessant dissati sfactio n of desire: it denies D iane (Naomi Watts) and the spec ta tor any exper ience of C amilla (La ura H arring), her love object-¡llld it em pbas izes this fail ure visually. Th e first part of the fil m, in con trast, produces a scenJ_rio in wh ich D iane, appearing as Betty, ca n en joy the object. As we've seen in othcr Lynch fil m s, th is se pa ratio n between th e ex pe rience of desi re and thar of fao tasy :lccoun ts for-and is accom plished by-dramatic ch anges in mise-en -sce ne, ed iting, and th e ove rall character of me shots between the first and second pa rts of (he film. W b il e the fi rst p:l rt o f t he fil m is nor w ithout strange characte rs a nd events (sucb as the híred k iller's hum o rously botch ed murder), the mi se en-sd:ne confo rrns on th t: whole ro the co nventions ofthe ty pical Holly wood fil m: sccn es a re well-lit, conve rsatio ns betwee n characte rs Aow withoutawkwa rd ness , and even the pl ainest d écor seems to sparkle. Th e ed iting here also tends to follow the elassical Holl ywood styl e, sustaining the spectator's sense of spatial and temporal orienta tíon. H ow eve r, in the second part of the film , the lighting becomes much dark er, almost ev ery conversa ti a n inelud es long and uncomfortabJe pauses, and the sets be co me dr:lb, lack ing th e ubiquitous brigh tness of those in th e firs t pa rt of th e film . The editing also uodc rgoes a r~l d i c;d !>hi ft. F or exam ple, just af ter D ia n!,: t" ll1 ergcs from he r faora sy (a nd enters rh e WQrld oE desire) , sh e ::Iprl'a r~ 111 ~I'(·¡¡k III Cam ill a R h od c~ ( I..a\l r~1 1 b rring) . Lynch shoots D i
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ane speaking, followed by a reverse shot of Camilla . But after another
cerning the O ther's d es ire-and ch us is consonan t w iLh a scnse o f mys
bri ef shot of Diane, the subscquent n:verse shm d epicts D iane again, oc
tery. The film beg il15 w ith rhe cred il seq uence mat superimposes the
cupying the position where we hao just seen Camilla. This kind of dis
image of Betty (Na o rni Wa t.ts) o ve r a n ong oing jitte rbug contest, but foll owing this in irial ~cene, L)' nch es tabli shes 3J1 a ura of rn ystery that
ruption of the shotlrev e rse-shot sequence (which does not occur in the first part of the film) indicates on the leve! of the editing that these worlo s-t he wo rlds offantasy and desire-are ontol ogically dist,i nct. As we contrast the first part of the film with the seconJ, it quickly be
seems to be in keeping w ith rhe a ttitudc of desire. A ftc r a brief shot of a blanket covering someonc Iying on a bed and a red pillow, we see a close-up of the "M ulhülland Dr." Stree t sign (which a lso stand s in as the
comes ev ident that th e first secms more real, more in k eeping with our
film 's title card) an d a black li m ous ine dr iving Rita up M ulh ol\and
cxpectations concerning reality. But this sense of realit)' results from the film's fantasmatic oimension rather than its realism. Where we usually
Drive. The limousine suddenly SLOpS, prompti ng Rita to proclairn, " Vlhat a re yo u d oingr We dOD't stop he re." The driver docsn't answe r
contrast fantas)' with reality, Mulholland Drive underlines the link be
her question but points a g un al he r and soys, "Get out of ¡he ca r. " Just
tween [he tw o, Jepicting fantasy's role in pro viding reality with the structure that it has . The film supports Lacan's claim that "eve rything
after he says this, howeve r. a car J rag-racing ill ch e oeher d irection on the ro~d crashes into che lim ousLne. The crash kili.., lhe drive r and in
we are alloweJ to approach by wa)' of reality remains rooted in fantasy. ".1
jures Rita's head , p rod ucing the amnes ia thar w ill affecl her thro ug hout the first pa rt of the film .
As a categor)', fantasy should no t be opposed to realit)! because it is fan tas)' that sustains what we ex perience as reality. But even chis idea-t ha t
This sce.ne cerrainly appea rs ro create a se nse of mystery and the fu n
fantas)' supports our sense of reality-is ev ident in Lost H ighway and
damental uncerta in ry thal we associate w ith dcsi re. lL produces desire
earlier Lynch films . Mulholland Drivc represents an advance on Lost Hig/¡way because it
ness and thrcate n ing Ch
in a m anne r very rypi cal of Holl ywood n arra tive w ith its use of dark
emphasizes not on ly tha t fanta s)' offers a solution to the deadlock of
and an editiog seq llence rhat me re! y hi n rs at w har is rcaHy tr anspir ing.
desire but also that Fantasy providcs a wa)' of staging an encounter with trauma ano an authcntic expe ricnce of loss th at would be impos
The film docs n oth ing cx trao rcl inary b Ul employs w ithout iro ny che narra tives cocles (lf Hall ywood (:md cs peciall y oF/i 1m no if ) co ocerni ng
sible without it. The film celebra tes the fan tasma tic dime nsion of
the prod uclion of J cs ire. As Ho ll ywood undcrstands weIl , dcsire al ways involves nor k nowing, bcing confrontcd wit.h a q uesl ion tlIat
H oll ywood-its commitment tu m e exploration of fantasy. Because of their formal similarities, one cannot come to terms w ith Mulholland
rive w ithout looking at ir in light (lf Lost Highway . The two are com panion films: Lost Highway ex plo res the structure of fantasy an d desire for male subj ec tivit)', and Mulholland Dl'lve does so for female su bjec ti vity. O ne mig ht cve n claim tha t M ulhollal1d Drive is a fcminist versi on of Los! H ighway.4
The M ysfery of Desire? If l'vIulhofland D rive in ract consists of separate worlds of desirc and fan tasy, it would see m that the operú ng part ()f the fil m rc presents the for mer since it focuses o n the m yste ry of R ila's (I. :lIlI';! I lnrr ing) iden tity. Desire ¡nvol ves the conFronratinll wit h a 1111 1< I. lI l lC I l l. d IltlCe rLlin ty CCf[)
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docsn't have ~Ln answer. The dcsi ring ~u bj ect confronts a m ysterious, enig m a tic object, an object th:n is nev e r isoltltable as ,he o bj ect.5 As La can points out a bout desire in Seminal' X, "as lo ng as J dcsire, 1 k.now nothing of what J desi re. "6 To pOrL ray des ire, a film must crea te a scene that situa tes specta tors in a position o F no n- k now ledgc , and this is cx actl y w hat the ope oing oC!\llutho/fand Drive Jocs, lt d oes tlús first of all thro ug h the m ise-en -scen c-Lhe nea r-to lal da r k ness of the setting, the isolarion of [he mounta in roacl, a nd so on . lo acl d itio n, the film employs Angelo BaJala m enti's low, baunting m usic ro conlribu te to the perva si ve sense of a rn yste ry. T h e action oC me scene a lso worb to keep us in the attitude of quesLÍon ing: we see th e limousine driving up a dark mountain roa d ancl ha ve no id ea where it's going. W hcn the dri ve r stops rhe limousine, the spcc tator is in the same positi on as Rit~l : we
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don't know why he has stopped, or why he pull s a gun. This m oment forcgruunds the essenti al lJu esti on of d esire -"W hat do you want ?" Likc Rita, the spec tatur has n o idea what the dri ver wa nts, and it is th e non-knowleoge of this d esire that trigge rs th e subject's d es ire. By plac in g th e spectator in the same posi tion as the des iring subj ect on the screen-a no hy immersing huth in total unce rtainty-Lynch seems to set up the first part of MulholLand Drive as a world of desire, This becomes eve n more appare nt afte r the car crash that turns R ita into an amnesiac. Folluwi ng this eve nt, she wanders the strects of L os :\ngeles, uncertain about where she might go or eve n \vho she is, Aga in th e film pl aces the specta tor in the sa m e position as Rita- without a founoation on wh ich one might ma ke sensc of Rita 's situ ation or he r io entity, Rita's unce rtain ty abou t her ow n ide ntity is at th e sam e tim e uncertainty about th e d esire ofthe Other: not knowing who one is re sults from not kn ow ing w ho one is fo r the Oth e r. At this point in the film, Rita has lost an y sense of wh ere shc exists relative to the Other. This com plete uncertainty about what the Othe r wants from her places Rita even more d irectl y in the positi on of oes iring subj ecti vity. As Bruce Fink points out, th e eni gm a of the Othe r's d esire is ul1bearabl e for th e subj ect, w hich is w hy the subject necessarily h as rccourse to fantasi es about w hat the Oth er wa nts. He says, Ral he r than anxiousl y wa iting to find out what yo u a re, yOll m ay well prefe r to jum p to concl usions (precipi tate answcrs) abour what the Other wants of you, w ith you, fr om you, and so on. Thc un kno wn nature of the O the r's desire is unbea rable here; yo u prefer ro assign it an attribu te, any attrihute, ramer th an Ict it remain a n enigma . You prefer to tie it down, give it a name, and pu t a n end to its angst-induci ng u nce rtainty. O nce it is nameo, once you concl ud c that this is w har th e O the r wa nts of you- to stay out of the w ay, for instanCe- lhe angst abates .7 O ne eliminates the an xiety th at the enigma of the O ther's desire pro duces by fanta sizing a resolution to that e nigm a, a nd this is exactl y wh at JVfulh olland Dritlc indicares that Rila uncs. Aftc r sbe w::lOoers the streets, Lynch shows Rita fall in g aslecp
le~~ my ~ te ri() us.
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IfRita fall s asleep tormented by th e m ystery ofth e Othcr's desire, she awa ke ns in to a world that is much friendli er. In th c apartment complex, a wom an is con ven ie ntl y leaving her apa rtment for an extend eo trip, a nd Rita procures a p lace to stay by snea k ing into the apartment. Ben y, the ni ece ofthi s woman , arri ves in Los A ngeles as a Aedg ling actress. Though Beny di scovers Rita in rh e apartm en t and realizes tha t Rita does n'r even know he r aunr, she befriend s Rita a nd assi sts he r in th e lJues t to di scove r her ide ntity. These events c1earl y seem to indicate that the fi lm has en tered the te rrain ofRita's fantasy: the open a partment and Betty 's a rrival functi on as wish ful fi ll me nts for Ri ta as a dcsiring subj ect. Lynch even unde rli nes the fa ntasma ti c status of Beny in the way that he shüots her arri va l in Los A ngel es. As Betty walks through th e L os Angeles airport terminal, the ~ ce l1 e is brightl y lit, and soft, eomfo rtin g music plays in the backg round, W e see a shot of Betty 's smil ing fa ce, and then a reverse shot of a "W elcome to Los Angeles" signo A n old couplc that Betty has pre sumably m et on th e Aight accompa nies he r throug h th e terminal and wishes he r well as she enters a taxi. As shc says good -bye to t he couple, we scc he r loo king cl own at her sudd en ly m iss ing bags, fearing th a t som e one has stolen thcm . The shot of Betty look ing dow n- an d excl aiming "My bagsl "- also builds in the specta tor a sense tha t som e.one has taken adva n tage of Betty's na'ivett: about the big ciry.ln the next instant, a re ve rse shot shows a cahbie placing he r bags in the tru nk ofhi s cab a nd ask ing her, "W here to?" T h is is not a Los A n gele~ w here th ievcs stea l th e bags of un suspectin g visitors [ rom th e co u ntry but one in w hich eve ry one is eager to help. 1t i5, as Ben y says ro Ri ta latcr, a "dream place." But it is Be tty he rself who occu pies the central pos iti ün in th e fantasy, as she seem ingly enters the film in orJer to help Rita sol ve the eni gma of desire. T h ro ughout the fi rst pa rt of the fi lm, Betty ¡:lSSists Rita in trac king dow n the d etails of the acc id ent th at trigge red he r amnes ia and in fol lowi ng up on the m emory frag m ents that come to h er. All ofBetty's ef fo rts to belp Rita-a nd her eventual d ecla rati on of love-suggest that she is no thing but a fantasy ohject for Rita, a wa y for Rita ro put a stop to the a nxicty of her Own desire. But as rhe second part of th e film un fo ld s, it becomes a pparen l that the en tire first pan of the film has not been st ructu rcd aroun d Rita's d es irc but ra the r a round a fa ntasmat ic rC$oluti<1tl ,,/, ti ... c1csirc of D ianc Sclwy n (w lto is alsn played by N aomi \V:¡L!s). W lt l l< , I ~ 1I ill iti.d ly scc m~ tltal B l' II Y : lrr iVl'~ ns a l'a nl.i.lsy figu re
A.ll 1I 1( 1)1< M I l'! (lR I V I
I YY
for Rita, hel ping her to salve th e enigm a of he r d esi re, the second part of the film reveals that, in fact, Rita has all along played the central role in the elahoration of Diane's fantasy and Betty is actuall y O iane's own ideal ego in this fantas)". As a mysterious, unkn ow n object, Rita pro vides a way for Diane/Betty to esca pe her unbearabl.e desire. The t~1I1tasy rdation between Betty and Rita is a reimagining of Diane's failed rdatio n-which we see only in the second part of the film - with the m ov ie star Camilla Rhodes (w ho is also played by L lUra Harring). Though we usually associate m ysteriousness and uncenainty with the diffi culty of desire, the enigma of Rita is far more bearable fur D iane than the impossibil ity that hau n ts her relatiunship with Camilla. Diane's fantas y rran sforms Camilla Rhodes, the impossible object, into Rita , the mysteriolls objcct. Thi s transformarion offe rs D iane an escape from the impossibility of the object-cause of desire. This impossible obj ecr is what sticks out and cannot be smoothly in tcgrated into the subject's wo rld . Ir is, as Lacan points out, "the object that cannot be swallowed, as it we re, which remains stuck in the gullet of the signifier. " 8 The desiring subject must recog ni ze the impossi bility of integra ting this im possible ob ject, but a sen se of mystery obscures and provides respite from desire's constituti ve impossibi lity. T h is is why D iane turns fmm Camilla Rhodes to Rita . As Lynch sh ows, fan tasy doesn't just resol ve the m ystery of desire, it c rea tes a sense of m ys tery as well in ord er ro obscu re the necessa ry deadlock thal a nim a tes all desire . With Camilla, D iane desires, a nd yet she knows that this des ire must remain dissatisfied. Unlike C ami lla, Rim offers O iane (as Berty) . mystery that ,he can solve; she is not an objecl that re m ains always out of reach, des pite her enigmatic status. By initially setting up Ri ta and the fi rst part of Mu lholland Drive as exemplary of desiring subjecrivity and la ter revea li ng this as itsdf part of a fantasm atic scenario, L ynch creates a more complex and cxpa nsive idea of fantasy than in his earlicr films. Desire confronts an im possibil ity, and by transforrning impossibility into m ystery or uncertainry, fan tasy rende rs the impossible possible. Bruce Fink is right to c1a im that "the encounter with the Othe r's desire is anxiety producing,"9 but w hat produces an xiety is nOt the enigm a of the O ther's desire; instead, the subject feels anxiety because she grasp~ Iht' illl l)( lssib ili ty of rhis desire -tha t the re can be no answe r lo tll l· q llt",II " 1I r!t :11 ÍI :lsks. nor tha t the subject simpl y doesn 't k n()w dli , ¡1 m,,"! 1
100
f)ü
IMrOSS lllI l 11,.,11 10 IYII' fI
Mulholtand Drive leaus us (thmugh the use of rn ise-en-scene a nd ed iting) tOward the error of see ing Rila as a figure of desire not simply to toy with our expectations but ro reveal the extent to which fantas)' determines our experience. 1t not on ly provi des answe rs to our ques tiom about Our identity, but it even produces the questions themselves. The film reveals rhat the prov ince of fantas y ex tends much funher and irs power is much greare r-th an eve n Lyn ch 's previous films had envisioned.
Fantasized Temporality
If all Lynch's films split into worlds o[ desi re and fan tasy, Mulhollalld Drive represen ts a major step for ward in how we might co nceive of rhe dynamics of this split. Mulho!lal1d Drive rad icali zes the split beyond a film like LO:;t Highway beca use ir crea tes a world of desire thar is fa r less coherent and thus displays more emphatically the rol e th at fant,lsy p lays in rendering OlH experience meaningfu l. T he world of desi re in Mul holfand D,·ive (th e second pa n of lhe film) b cks evcn a sen sc- of tem po rality. E vents occur in this world in a random order, wi thout a clear na rrati ve logic. A t the beginn ing of this pan of the fil m, Dianc's former ruom mate (and, it seems, lover) retrieves her belong ings, incl udi ng an ashtray shaped like a m iniature pi ano, from Dia nc'~ a partment. Bur in a subsequent scene, the piano ashtray reappears on thc coffee ta ble, as if the room mate had not yet removed it even thoug h we know that she had oThe same thing ha ppens with a blue key. It is lying on the coffee table as th e second pa n of rhe fil m begins and rhen di sa ppea rs until the end of the film, w hcn D ia ne again sees it 011 the coffee tableo The disap pea rance a nd reappearance of these objects does nOl indicate anything mag ical a t work, but simply that this pan of the film opera tes according to the atemporallogic of desire. There is no ch ro nology in the 'world of pure desi re because desire does not move forward; tnstead, it circulates around rhe impossible object-in this case, the impossible enjoyment in Camilla Rhodes that Oiane Selwyn longs for and yet can not access.IO As a world of desi re, the second pa n of the film moves accord ing to the com pulsion to repeat rather than accord ing to th e dictates of time. In co ntra st, the first pan of rhe fill11 - th e ela boration of D ian e's fa n tnsY- Opt mIes acco rc1 i ng ro a sta nd:1n i tC I1l po rallogic. E vents occur in;1 rh 11111. ¡J n¡.tll .tI () rder and follllw t h t · b w~ n l"l.1I 1\,rl ir y. Thi s is r n::ci sel y
~"J(II.lIiIlNCI OR /\' I
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the opposite of what we might expect: we are acc ustomed to thinking of fantasy as an imaginative Hig ht that allow~ us to violate the various exigencies-induding, perhaps especially, that of temporality-that constrain our experience of reality. But th e film reveals here the role that fantasy pla)'s in constructing our sense of temporality. Though dassical Hollywooo films also rely on the power of fantasy to construct a sen se of temporality, they take pains not to reveal this in the way thatMulholland Drive does. The classical Hollywood film hides fantasy's role in produc ing tempo rality by not depicting any moments bereft of fantasy-no mom ents of desire as such, in which neither fantasy nor temporality 01' erates. In Mulholland Dl'ive, on the other hand, we see Diane 's experience of pure desire in the sccond part of the film. As a subject ofdesire without any fa nta smatic supplement, Diane experiences only th e repetitíon of the drive. As Betty, the fantasy figure who allows Diane to escape this repetition, she experiences temporality. Th e point here is that we do not employ fantasy to escape from the horrors of time, but that \Ve employ fantasy tú construct time as a respite from the horror s of repetition. " As Slavoj Zizek notes , "fantas)' is the primordial form ofrwrrative, [... andl nal'rative as such emerges in oroer to resolve sorne fundamental antago nism by rearranging its terms into a temporal succession . It is thus the very form of narrative which bears witness to some repressed antago nism."l l By providinga narrativeand temporal structure through which we can have experi ences, fanta sy del iv ers us from the timeless repeü tion ofthedrive. a ntas)' providcs not just temporaLity, but it also constantly works to fill in rhe ga ps that popl1late the fragmentary expe rience of desire. Withou t fantasy, our experience would lack a sense of coherence, just like the latter section of Lynch's film . This role of fantas)' becomes ap parent in the way that the first part of the film tak es fragments of cxpe rience from the second pan and elabora tes on them. Such a process is crucial to the subject's abiLty to make sense of a situation: we under stand ano discover meaning beca use fantasy provides th e background for our fragmenta ry experience. By filling in gaps, fantasy helps LIS to produce a seamless experience of the world. At film director Adam Kesher's (J ustin Theroux) party in the second pa rr of the film , Dianc hears Adal11 's brief aCCClunt of his n :n'nl hl l' a k IIp w il h his w ife. Shc overhea rs him sa yin g, "So J gol lh e pllol, 11 11 ,1 ~III' ¡.:ill lhe pool man ."
,n~
Illt I M r O·, :oIl1 l r
This senten ce pres llm abl )' r roviJc.~ all the inform atio n tha t D iane has about the breaku p. It e x b t~ f;Jr her-and for us :] 5 spectato rs-as just a fragm en t ()f sellse, a fragm ent uncoonec ted to aoy cohe rent narrative of the rel ationsfü p between Adam and his w ife. BUl in che fi rst pa rt of the film, we have alread y seen the events that Ada m 's sta tem ent aUudes to. Diane crea tes a f.1nL3Sm atic scenario su rrollnding rhi s fragme nt of knowledge tha t [enders it completely sensible. In che fir st part of the fi lm, Dia ne's famasy prod uces the bac kg round for Adam's stateOle nt aholl e the "poo l man." A fre r losi ng hi s fi lm for refusing to bow ro m ob pressure and hire Ca m illa Rh odes for the fe mal e lead, Ad a m retu rm lo bis horne an d finds his wi fe L orraine in bed with the pool mano Rarher tha n ev inc ing g ll ilt for her in fid clity, from the moment Adctm sees h er L o rrai ne begins be r:tting Aoam for comíng hom e a r th e w rong time. Shc says, "Now yo u've do ne ir," a nd ~he asks ofhim, "W hat the hell a re yo u even doing here? " Adam says norhing, bllt proceed s ro Jousc her jcwdry box (an d rh e jewel r y in ir) with pink painr, 'vvhich occasions a fig hr between Ada m . Lo r ra ine, a nd rhe pool mano F inal/ y, Ad arn kaves, covereJ in pink paint ;) nd w ith a bloody n ose. In lig hr o f thi s sccnc. we ha ve a context rhrough whi ch ro un der stand Ad:¡m's sratement abou t his wife and the pool m
part of the film. Bur ir is, Tcontcncl, on l y rhe d élbo rati on of Oiane's fan
rasy thal has prod uced thi s narrarive con tcx t. T he fa m asy takcs up a
frag mentary p iece of expe ri ence a nd prov ides ir w ith a coherent pas t
rhat ex plains its eme rgence in lhe presento In this way, famasy offers
subjects respi te from the in cohe rence thar plagues their ex pe rience.
Diane 's Wish Fulfillment Not on ly does fa ntasy till in th e gap::; of Our exp erience, but it also- even m ore im port:tntl y-del ive rs us frolll rhe diss¡¡tisfaction constitu tive of our status as desirí ng subjects. In the sccond pa n of Mu/holltmd
Drive , whic h dc pic ts a wor/eI of desi re w ithour fantasy to suppleme nt it, D iane feels desire's perpetu a! Iack: she longs for Ca mil la Rhodes bllt cannot have her; she wa llts a caree r as an actress bur struggles w ith bit parts; and shc Sees rhe opulen t Iifestyle of Hollywood's el ites but lives in relati ve ~qll:t l o r. As we watch rh e st:con d ¡J
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hrst part of the fllm completely transformed. T his occurs most obvi ously in the relationship bctween Diane and Ca milla Rhod es, w hich becomes the relationship between Betty and Rita in D iane's fantasy. Despi te [)iane's des ire for Camilla RhoJes, she must constantly en dure Camilla's open displays of affection with Ada m Kes her ancl with other women as wdl. Camilla flaunts her enjoyment in front of O ia ne, but always in such a way that leaves Diane out of it. W hat's more, C;:¡ milla seems purposefully to stage her enjoyment for Diane, in orJer tu sustain Diane's desire. This becomes apparent when we see D ia ne, whom Cami lla has in vited, on the set of a hlm that A cla m is shoo ting with Cam illa. At one point in the shoot, Aclam clears the set so that he may demonstratc-privately-how he wanrs an actor to kiss Cami lla . But Camilla asks Dia ne to stay while everyone else lea ves m e set, and as Aclam passionatcl y k isses her, she looks at Diane, who is the sole auJi ence for this kiss. Ly nch emphasi.zes Camilla's conccrn with Dian c see ing her enjoyment by show ing her looking at Di:-tne during Ao:-tm's kiss. 1t is as if Camilla invites D iane to stay on the set and kisses Aclam solely to arome Diane's clesire. lmm ediately before this scene, the hlm shows C amilla anJ Diane together in D ian e's apa rtment, Iying naked on the couch . As they begin to kiss, Cam illa stops, anJ what she sa ys makes clea r the position into which she pushes O ianc. She tell s D iane, "You dri ve me wild. We shouldn 'r do this ;}nyrnore:' Ca milla ¡ures O i anc towa rd her at the same time that she kceps O iane at a distance. Just at the moment Diane feels that she is c10se to C amill a's elusivc en joy m en t, Camilla wi lhd raws it a nd bars access to it. After Diane rcspond s, "lt's him, isn't it?," Lynch immediately cu ts to the scene on the film set where Dianc witnesses C amilla a nd Adam ki ssin g, w h ich again forces Diane to exper ience her ow n failure to enjoyo Throughoul lhe scconJ part of the hlm, Di ane remains within the dcadlock of desire: she can not atrain the elusive enjoyment that her object seems to embody, anJ she cannot cast the obíect asid e and begin to 100k e1sew hcre. But when C amill a becomes R ita shc is no longer inacccssible. I n Di ane's fantas y, Betty and Rita not only hecomc IO\ler5, bu t Betty is abo able to come to Rita's rescue. E nvisioning oneself a ~ me resc ucr of one 's love object is, of course, the ultimate fa ntasy sCl· nario; rhe rescue w ins the lo ve of the lov e object by proving rhal d H' ~ll hi n t l k~c r ves this IOVl'. This is ",vhat we see in the case of Sen)' ;111<1 Hit.l. 111 tl lt worl d o f d csi re . Ca mill a Rhodes occ upics a pmitif)1I .. 1 ,l. ' 111 rd .tli \'t: to Dianc. 13111
20~
THr IMI' O SSIIlI r DAVID LY NCI I
vvhen Betty discovers her, Rita has no idea who she is, not even her nam e, and adopts the name " Rita" from a Cilda movie poster. IJ Shc is completely hel ple!is, stripped of he r m aste ry by Oianc's fantasy. The at tractivcness of fantasy stems from this ability [O delive r the goods -to proviJe the subject with a narrati ve in which she can access the inacces sible object-cJuse of desire. In creating access to this object, the fantasy structurc rernoves aud repositions the obstacles that block Oiane's access to Camilla in the world of dcsire . Film director Adam Kesher, beca use of h is rom antic invol\lemenr with Cam illa, rep reseo ts a direct obstacle in Diane's path to Camilla. As a res ult, Diane's fantasy strips Aclam of his position of power and forces him to succum b to various rituJLs ofhumiliation. No t onl)' does he hnd his wife in bed w ith th e pool man, but he also finds himsclf strippcd ofhis hlm by the mob. W hen he tries to hide from the mob (speci/lcall y, rhe Castig liane br others) at a d owntown hotel, he lea rns that their reach extcnds everyw here, as Coo kie, the proprietor, tells him : "W hoever you're hiding from, they kn ow w here you are." Th e mob has also stripped Adam of all his money. C ook ie tell s h im, "You're m axed out at yo ur ba nk, anJ your li ne of credil h as been can celled." W hen Ada m receives this in fo rma tjon, we see bim al! alone in a dingy d ow nt()w n Los A ngeles ho tel. Lynch uses this sctring lO indi cate furth er the d epths to which A da m has faUen: he has losl cvery th ing. and now be ex ists in the midH of urban sq ualor rather than the lu xu ry of the H ollywood hilb (w here we sec h im li ving in the second pan of the fil m) . In add ition, Adam spend s most o f the hrst part of the film wirh pink paint splattered ove r his expen siv e black jacket. The paint constantly remi nds us-and A dam hi mse lf--of his humiliation in findin g his wi fe in bed w ith the pool m an o Ad am does recover his form er station but onl y after he capitula tes to th e dem a nd of the Casti gliane brothers and hires Cam illa Rhodes to star in his film. Thus, the fantasy trans forms Aclarn from a hgure of mastery into a victim a nJ a pa wn. [t both punishes him for standing in the \ovay of Diane's access to Camilla Rhodes and rernoves !tim as an obstacle. Through Adam's transformation, Ly nch reveaLs th e power of fantasy to clear the way to the objec t. Throug h the tu ro to fantas)', Ad:.lm '5 sit uati on ch:lIlges dramatiGIlly, bu t hi s bas i( pL" r ~() n a li ty remains intacl. In the- ca se O f CClCO (A nn Miller), th e Llflt ;I\} , h lll"II" r: l tt.:~ cv(."n lOo r!," i l~ Ir.l llS j"nf ma ti vt.: powe r as not
MI./I /101' ANO PR IVf
20S
just her situatíon but her personality undergot's a complete change. In the world of desire , Coco is Adam 's mother, and in Diane's only inter action with her, she upbraids Diane in a harsh maternal tone for being late to Adam and Camilla's party. In Diane's fantasy, Coco remains a maternal figure, hut she becomes wholly ben evolent-a n ego ideal, see ing Betty in the way that Betty wants to be seen. Coco is no longer Ad am's mother, but the apartment manager where Bctty's aunt has an apartment. When Betty arrives at the apartment complex for the first time, Coco greets her with hyperbolic \varmth. She smiles and says, "Ten bucks says you're Beny." Coco's first words to Betty indicate the extreme transformation from her incarnation as Adam's mothe r in the world of dcsire . There, her first words to Betty are a rebuke; in the fan tasy world, Coco's first words cheer Betty and let her know that she has a place in this world. Later, as she shows the aunt's apartment to Betty, Coco offers to acquaint Betty with her neighbors. She tells Betty, "If you'd like, later on, 1'11 introduce you around ." When Betty doesn't re spond right away, Coco adds, "W ell, no hard feclings if you don't." Coco accommodates her completely, welcoming hcr to hu new envi ronment but at the same time giving Betty her own space. The fantasy produces her as the perfect maternal figur e. We can also understand the first part of th e film as él fantasmatic re sponse to the second part if we compare the loo k of Diane and Betty. Naomi Wans plays hoth characters, which initially suggests that they represent different vcrsions of thc same person o But the characters dif fer to such an extent that it almost appears as if a different actor is play ing each parto When we first sec Beny in the Los Angeles airport, not only does the film show her bathed in light, but it also shows her color fully and attractively dressed. She wears a blu e shi rt, red sweater, and black pants. This outfit looks stylish, and it combines with Betty's smil ing demeanor and bright blue eyes to indicate her cheery hopefulness. When he introduces Diane, Lynch stresses the contrasto We first see Diane in her underlit, cheap apartment, \-",here she is dressed in a bath robe. Diane's JishevcleJ, dirty hair a1so contrasts with Betry's, which looks freshly styled and perfect. And 'vvhereas Betty constantly smiles and seems eager to mect the world, Diane is morosc ¡-¡ud seems defeated by life. The contrast revea ls that Betty nffers 1)i all \,. ;¡ way of seeing her sclf as she wants to be seen.
206
lHI I MPO SS lnl1
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Though Beny first appea rs as a nalve, hopeful ingénuc from D ecp River, Ontario, her character actually ranges widely. The extreme varia tions in Betty's subjectivity confirm her status as Diane's fantasma tic ideal ego. This bec omes apparent when she arrives at a studio for an au dition. 14 Up to this point, Betty exhibits the attractive innocence of a ne ..... arrival in Los Angeles, S(lmeone eager to make her way as an actor. But in the au¿lition, th e actor she works with, Woody Katz (Chad Everett), wants to play the scene not as it is written, but in a way that will provide him sorne sexual stimulation. Lynch lcts us know this hy showing Betty practice with Rita prior to the audition; we see Betty performing the scene well (and as written). Despite the fact that the words are the same, it almost seerns as if Woody is performing an entirely different scene. Rather than rebuffWooJy for distorting and sexualizing the scene, Betty follows his lead and evcn ratchcts up the degrce of sexualization: Lynch uses a close-up of Bett y moving vVoody's hand onto her buttocks to show this. Here, Betty completely defies the na"lveté she exhihited until this point, showing hersclf to be 3. sexually experienced being. As a fantas matic figure, she accomplishcs the impossibLe: she is innocent, yet sexual; she is na·ive, yet aware of huw the world works; she is hopeful, yet not casily du ped. In short, Betty occupies subject positions mat are contra dictory and mutua lly exclusive. This is only possible because she repre sents a fanta sized version of Dianc. The distortion of the fantasy allows Betty to be all things-the perfect ideal cgo for Diane. The fantasmatjc distortion is mos t extreme in the case of Camilla Rhodes. This is beca use she rep resents the fantasy's nodal point; she contain s m e impossible object. As such, the fantasy separates the name "Camilla Rhodes" from her body in an effort to distinguish between the pathological, undesirable parl of her and what is in her more than hc r, the objet petit a. The objet petti a is the remainder that the process of signification lea ves behind, and as such, it always escapes the prov ince of the signifier (and the na me). In the fanta sy, the name "Ca milla Rhodes" comes to signify corruption and undeserved success. We first see this name attacheJ to a picture that two mcmbers of the mob, the Castigliane hroth ers, show Adaro Kesher. They insist that Adam cast this woman in h is film, te.lling him repeatedly, "This is the girl." Through thi s ges tu re, the fantas )' accomplishes a doublc move: it tar nish es rile act ing- ~u ccess of me actua l C am ill a Rhodes by suggesting
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207
that mob in fl uence procured her big break, allowing her to overstep more talented actors, and it impugns the unnameJ \\'0 111 a n w hom D i ane secs kissing Camilla Rhodes at a party (beca use she is the woman in the mobster's photograph identified as "Camilla Rhodes"). At the same time, the actor who plays Cam illa Rhodes in the second part of the fIlm, Laura Harring, appears in the first part in an entircly diffcrent guise, as "Rita." i\.<¡ Rita, the desirab1e part of Camilla Rhod es -embodied by the actor H arring herself- pcrsists in the fantas)', minus the undesir ab1e part ofh er no\\' hnked to the other Camilla Rhodes. Lynch uses the samc actor to pl ay Camilla Rhodes in the second pan of the film and Rita in the first part, but changes the name in order to i\lu strate fanta sy's attempt to de!iv er the impossible object in apure form , free of any pathological taint. The first pan of MuthoLLalld Drive, the fantasy world , cnacts a nearly complete transformation of the different aspects of Diane's life. It takes the dreariness and the dissatisfaction of that life and remakes it in a fully d eve!oped narrative. The fantasy replaces the dissatisfaction of de sire with images of cnjoyment. Sub jects Aee into fant asy precisely be cause it seems to cure the dissatisfaction that they cannot otherwise es cape. As we ha ve seen , fa ntasy works to cove r over the many sourccs of discontent tha r plague the sub ject, but it saves the abund ance of its power for producing an image of the successful se xual relationship. T hrough both parts of the film , Ly nch show s that che failu re of this re lationship is the primary impetus for the turn from dcsire to famasy.
The Successful Sexua l Relationship The essential quality of fantas y is not simpl y its ability to de!i ve r wish fulfiUment. Its fundam ental function consists in its abuity to address desire on the m ost important leve!, its abili ty to figur e (th e illu sion of) a successful sexual relationship. According to Lacan, the sexual relationship-or more precisely, the f:ulure (lf it- rcpresents th e pri mary stumbling block in human re1ations, a stumbling block that results from our insertion into language. As he puts ir, "no rcl ationship gets con stituted betvvee n the sexes in tbe case of spcaki ng- bei ngs."1 5 "There is no sexual relation sru p" becau5c the ca te¡.~oril·S "r 1ll ,lI e .\l l d rl'l nale ind ica te a structural impasse: cach position is s¡rll ~ " I I t'l 1 ill :,111 " ,1 w:ly lha t it looks for w hat the <Jthcr docs nOI h.lw. 111111111 \. h;1I il I l n~. " 111 de, iré~ o r lhe
1nn
I lir I MfOr. , "1I1
n~V III I'IN'~ II
sexes are thu s not com plcm entory. Th is dooms the rela tiun uetween the sexes te, be an tagonistic, an,] ir dooms both sexes to a continual bartl e to ove rcome this antagonism oT hc on ly way oul ofthis antagonism in vol ves a turo ro fa Olasy, tho ugh rantasy can onl y overcome ir in an imaginary way. F antasy allows the su hjert ro d iscover, throllgh creat ing a narrative around it, a way of creating Ihe illusion that the sex ual rclati on is possi ble. Whi le th e w orld of d esi re in Muiholland D,.ive stresscs the f¿-lilure of th e sexual relation, the fi lm's d epiction of fanta sy sho ws how the subject tries to ove rcom e th at failu re. Buta n cm ph asis on this fu nction offantasy does not begin, in Ly nch 's hody of wo rk , wirh Muthotland Drive; it is also perhaps the ~ a 1i e nt fearu re uf Lost Highway, and it agai o indicates the link between rhese t\Vo fi lms. Lost Highway uepicts the failure ofthe sex ual reJ ation throllg h F reJ Madison (Bil1 Pullman) and h is w ife Renee (Patricia A rquette). Despite Fred's many efforts to app roach Renee's enjoyment in m e first pan of that film, this en joyment continual1 y el ud es h im, leaving hi m haunted by his own fail u re ro e nj oy and by h is fa ilure to relate successfull )' ro Re nee. Bur as the fa.ntasma tic figure o f Pcter Day ton (Bal thaza r GClty), F red is able to COOSlruct él narrative in w hich he can enj oy Alice (a lso played by Patrici a Arquctte), él fan tas ized ve rsion of Rcnce. On the ter rain of fantasy, w ithin rhe narrative m at it con structs, rh e im possible sex ual rc\a tionship becomes poss ible. T his is what Ieads Slavoj Zizek to ins ist that " fan tasy is ulti m
MII III O II AND nRI \![
209
to n;¡rr;¡tc a terr;¡in on which this rdation woulcl succeed-anJ it is clear rhat the fantas)' würks: in the first part uf MulhoLland Drive, Betty a nd Rita (the fantasmatic counterparts of Diane and C amilla) rnanage a successful sexual relationship. By showing that th e sexual rclationship f~lÍls (and requires a bntasmatic su pplemenr) eve n in the case oflesbia n love rs, the film is not enforcing heteronormativity, reducing the lesbian rel;¡tionship to the modd of the heterosex ual one. Instead, it ev inces a refusal to roman ticize the lesbian relationship or to imagi ne that such a rdation escapes the ex igencie~ of rhe subject's insertion into language. ' 7 N o m;¡tter w hat its makeup, no sexual rclation can succeed, and thus eve ry such rdarion, out of the in ev itabil iry of its failure, spurs the sub ject in the direction of a fant;¡smatic resolution. ,H If the fundam ental role of fantas)' consists in prod ucing the im;¡ge of a successful sexual rdation, this also represe nts the si te of fantasy 's pri mary d;¡nger. By convincing the subject that the sexual relation can SIlC ceed, fantasy obscures the antagonism that haunts the functioning of the symbolic order. Coverecl over by rhe veil of fantasy, the sy mbolic or der seems ro operate w ithout a hitch . Ir is at this point that one can see the political problems that the tu rn to fantasy produces. Whe n subj ects im merse thernsd ves in fa otasy, they blind them sel ves to the contrad ic tia ns of the preva iling ideology. L ynch's films do not ignore this Jim eo sion of fantasy. MulhoLland D,·¡ve illus trates repeated ly the way in wh ich D iane's tu rn to fanca sy obscurcs her position as a desiring sub jec t. But for Lynch, fantasy's positive pol itical possibilities-l ike its a bil ity to takc us to the point at which t he ruling symbolic structu re breaks dow n-are much more intriguing. T he main em phas is in MulholLol1d Drive lies in this direction, in showi ng how fa n lasy mig h t hold the key to experiences otherwise unthinkable.
Going AII the Way in Fantasy
lf Mulholland Drive is a critique of the fa ntas iz ing that we usually asso cia te with Holl ywood (an d ) would con lend it is nor), then ir is not rhe usual indictment. W here most critics re primand Holl ywood for its ex cessive commitrnent ro fantasy (ar the COSl of vc risimilitutle), Lynch takes H ollywood to task oot for going ro" /":1 r in 111(''' i fl'l l inn (lf f
71f1
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t MPO~" lnl l
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down . As Lacan points out, "T herc is no oth er entra nce for the subject into the real than the fanta sy."IQ Thjs becom es especially clcar in Mul holLalld Drive as él rcsult of the stTict sepa rarion that Lynch establ ishes between the world of fantas)' allJ w e wodd of desire. Lynch uses film to create rigid bou ndaries, and their very rigiclity allo\\ls us to sec in re lief what occurs at tbe poin t they come togeth er. Th is structura llogic manifests itself in M u lholland Drive as wd!. Because Lynch avoids blcnding together the Ievels of fan tasy and desire, he is a lso abl e to join them togetb er Ú1 él w ay that re vea ls the trauma tic real t hat exists at their po iot of intersection. T he intersec tion of fan tasy and desire is always a point of trauma beca use it is él poim at wh ich signific;¡tion breaks clow n. We construct fa ntasy to cover over a gap in rhe symbolic structure, a place where there is no signifier. Hence, the hinge that links bn tasy to the symbolic structure (i.e" the world o( desire) is the real, a tra umatic moment that res ists all symboli zation. The first time Mulh olLand Drive depicts the rea l of this intc rsection occurs w hen Betty aod Rita in vestigare Diane Scl w yn's apartme nt and discover Diane's dead body Iying on her bed. Because they ar e w ithin th e fan tasy and perceiving th rough its lens, they cannot recognize the body (nor can we as spectators). Nonethcl ess , lhe very narrative struc ture of thc faotasy-its mys tery story-Ieads them to the fanta.sy's poim of origin, w h ich is a trauma tic point of non-sense that OOC$ not fit w ithin th e famasy structu re. A fte r seeing the body, Betty and Ri ta quickl y Aee the apartment, a nd the film de pictlo their exit in a way that sugges ts that this encoun ter w ith the real has traurn ati zed them and even thrown lhem out of joint. As we see th em run ning out the fro nl door of the apartm ent, the film not only uses slow rno tion, but italso blurs the im age of both characters. We see se ve ral im ages of them on each frame, and consequcntl y it looks as if Betty aod Rita tempora rily ex ist outside of them selves, as if th e cncouote r with the real has disruptcd their exis teoce relative to time. T hc conventiünal filmic tec hniqucs-slow mo tion and multiply-exposcd frame s- here playa precise role within the narrative structure, suggesting a disruptive encounter with the real be cause of their place relative l O th e evems of the narrative. Bu t this dis ruption merel y presages the more sign ifica nt ones lhat foll ow the disso IutiOll of rklO e\ fa ntasy, Fa nlasy " IT(' rs rhe possibility oC ~U dl cn c(¡ u n ter ~ w ith the real whc n WI.' 1~)II4I W il ', lll~il lo i1.!> c ntl poinr, w hcr1 Wl: play out rhe fanrasy corn
,1I11 1Hl 11 4ND IJP./V/
71 1
pletely. In this sense, as Lynch illust.rates, fantasy holos the key to its own tra versal beca use the logic of the fantasy itself pushes the subject to the point of its dissoluti on. As Alenka ZupanCic puts it, "Wc cannot 'get beyond' the fantasy by giving up on the Cause that animates us but, on the contrary, only by insisting on it until the cnd."20 The subject cannot escape fantasy simply by opting out of it. Attempting to do so ,places the subject all the more under fantasy's powcr because it allows fantasy to operate without any awareness. But when we commit ourselves to the fantasy without rese rve, the radical potential of fantasy makes itself vis ible, as Lynch's film shows. Diane commits wholly to the fantasy of herself as Retty and follows it as far as embracing Rita's quest for the truth . On this quest, Retty even crawls through a window to enter Di ane's locked apartment where she encounters Diane's dead body, even though she doesn't recognize it as such (and, in fact, th e fantasy causes both Rita and Betty to misperceive the bod)' and see in it a resemblance to Rita) . Fully embracing her fantasy leads Betty/Diane right ioto the path of the real as it appcars in the form of an encounter with her own dead body. As this scene suggests, Mulhollalld D rive is a panegy ric to the existential and political possibilitics of fantas y. In the denouement of the fantasy, it becomes clear that Mulhollalld D,.ive offe rs us a specifically feminine structure to its fantasy, in contrast to Lost Highway , which employs a m asculinc structurc. Rccausc fantasy employs narrative, it cannot depict the successful sexual relationship as a static rdation: we are either approaching it or in the process oflosing it. In each of th ese positions, the fantasy allows us to encounter the trauma of the real in a unique way, a way indicative of ci the r a male or a female fantas)' structure. A m ale fantas)' always comes up short; it a p proaches a successful sexual relation but never quite attains it. The en joyment of a male fantasy remains a pote ntial enj oyme nt, an experience never quite achieved. Tbis is wby at the m oment Peter Dayton would finally connect with Alice in Lost Highway, Alice abruptly withdraws from the sex act and tell s PetN, "You'\l never have me." Peter ap proaches the experiencc of enjoyment through the fantasy structure, but he n ever quite arrives at it. The male fantasy holds back; it refuses to give itself ove r entirely ro thc object. A femak fanl':1 sy, o n thc other hand, goes too fa r. It is a faotasy of giving ('l lcsdr ('lIl ircly to lhe love object. Thus, it does not stop shorl ; th !.' IllI l.tl , 1.1111 :I\y deoicts thc achievement of thc succcssful st.:xual n-!.llIf lll
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TItE I MP OHIBlf DAV ID LVNCtl
In Mulholland Drive, Lynch shows Betty and Rita starting to kiss, and then, as they bt.:gin to ha ve sex, Betty says to Rita repeatedly, "I'm in lov e with you." The sexual re/atinn comes off. Afterwards, Lynch shoots them holding hands in their sleep, hinting at the bond that exists between them. But the fantasy cannot simply stop at this point. It exists within a temporal structure, ano it moves forward with time. The film begins ro illustrate the dilemma of the fcmale fantasy. If male fantasy stops too quickly, femak fantasy inevitably goes on too long. We expe rience the successful sexual relation, but also the inescapable loss that follo"vs. In male fantasy ami female fantasy, the rdation to the real is fundam entally differe nt. The male subject experiences the real as al ways futural while the female subject experiences it ;¡s past, an experi ence of loss. 21 Lynch depicts this 1055 occurring just after we see the image of Betty and Rita holding hands in their sleep. Rita wakes Betty up in the mid die of the night with her outbursts of the word "Silencio." Despite the late hour, she convinces Betty to go with her ro Club Silencio. From the way that Lynch shoots th eir arrival, it is clear that at Club Silencio Betty and Rita a re nea ring the edge of the fantasy world. In a vcry long shot, we see them arrive in a cab, ancl as they entcr thc club, the camera tracks rapidly to the door of the club to enter along with them. This unusual position ing of the camera suggcsts that C lub Silencio is dan gerous (thus the camera kee ps its d istance) and yet alluring (which ex plains the fas e trac k forward). Inside the club, Betty and Rita watch the emcee insist on the unreality of what they are about to secoH e does this in a varicry oflanguages, saying repeatcdly "No hay banda-and yet we hear a ba nd "; "It's all recorJ ed" ; "Jl n'y a pas d'orchestre"; and "It is all on tape." By showing the emcee speaking in different languages, the film suggests the unimportancc of the signifiers themselves relative to what they ca nnot ca pture-the absence of the impossible object. In many forms, the emcee repeatedly attests to this fundamental absence. W hen the emcee speaks, we see aman seeming to playa muted trum pct enter the stagc. But the man moves the trumpet from his mouth, and the sound continues, indicating that, as the emcee says, "It is aH on tape." The fantasy indica tes overtly its central concern-the object in its absence rathe r than presence. This suggests that Betty and Rita have reached tlw (·nd point of the fantasy, th e point at which it will brea k dow lI .
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The film depicts this collapse occurring during a songo W hen the emcee kaves the stage, Rebebh Del Rio (play ing he rself) sings a Span ish yersion of Roy Orbison 's song "Crying."22. As w ith th e emcee, the fact that shc sings in Spanish indicates that the words he re are not the heart ofthe mattcr: what is crucial instead is Del R io's voice-th e voice detaehed from her body as an object, the yoice as the impossible object. Despite their knowledge mat the song is nor li ve, Betty and Rita find themselves caught up in it anyway, able to disavow this knowledge. They experience th e enjoyment of the impossible object in the \Coice. Tbe song moves S etty and Rita to tears beclUse it communicatcs a sense of loss. Rebekah De! Rio is "crying" over the lost love object, oyer the lost sexual re!ationship, and this touches both 8e tty and Rita, as they fee! the incipient loss of what they ha ve experienced. This feeling ofloss marks the inevitable conclusion of the female fantasy. 'vVhcn we experi ence the loss of the sexual relationship in fantasy as a rC5ult of following fantasy to its end point, we ex perience the loss of a rdation that we have never hado Fantasy effects an identification with the tost object. As Juan-David Nasio points out, "we are, in the famasy, that w hich we lose."23 In this st:nse, fantasy allows us to mourn th e lost object in a way th at we cou ld not Jo wimout fantasizing. Since the subject never actu ally has the "Iost" object, the only ex pe riencc ofloss that the su bject can have must occur through fantasy.24 Hence, the only audleotic mourn ing necessarily inv ol ves itse!f in tbe illusions of fan tasy, wh ich is what we see occu rr ing at Club Silencio. Ultimate! y, the subject cannot hold on to the expe rience of loss. Just as the male fantasy cannot susta in the moment imm ed iately prior ro tbe sexual re!ati o nship, th e femal e fa ntasy cannot sustain tbe moment of its loss. Tbe structure of fantasy breaks down when the subject confronts tbe total emptiness of tbe impossible object, w hich is wbat occurs as Rebekah Del Rio's song continues after she has fainted. At this point, the fantasy coll apses: Setty-i.e., D iane-can no longer disavow rhe il lusor)' nature of the experience because she confronts rhe pure, content less impossible object. Betty looks down in her pursc and sees a bluc box, a box tha t represents the poine of exit from {he worlo of fantasy. \Vhen Setty and Rita return to the apartmclll, Ri r;l r<.:1 rieves the bluc key that sh e bad earlier found in her pur)it: .111 el tl W! Iictly hacl placed ill a box in a closet. As Ri la !noves tow ;lrd tll t dn·,II . Iltt. (alnera foJl ow:. hcr and leaves Betty out o rlhe sh,,!. BIII \\'111:11 l< iLI tll l (1 , urou nd rmm
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the closet and the shot ~h()ld d .lg.lI" indud e Bctty, she isn'r thue. Betty and Ri ta reach the poill l .. 1 ",h iel, Ihe fantasy world intcrsects lhe world of desire. Dia ne\ rqll n": IIl.i " "l' in her fantasy can no longer con tinue to ex isto A fter R ila m e' rlw kt.:y lO open the blue box, the ca me ra moves into tbe openin g ill IIIL ttlp ofthe box and is subsum eo by the darkness inside. Thc fl ll ll ¡prte,:, liS t() expe rien ce briefly the void that exists betwee n fantas)' a nd u ('~i rT, but quick ly we a re tbrust into the worle! of d esin: in w hic h Ihe WOIn:ln who owns (b is apa rtment-8etry 's "aun t" in the fa ntasy-walb in the apa rtment by herself, with no trace of either Rita or Beny. The came ra 's entr y in w lhe (,brkness of (be blue box ma rks the point at w hich Mulho/land Drive shi fts world s---Ieavi ng D iane's fam :lsy and entering a world of oesire. Lynch shows Diane Iying on he r bed , aod the shots alternate bctwcen::m image ofh er clead body and an image of her s\eeping bod y. Al th is p oint, the Cow boy (Monty Mon tgomcry) walks past he r bed roOIll and says to ber, " Hey pretty gir!, ti me to wa ke up." The Cowboy be re rep resents another version of the Mystery Man (Ro bert Bla ke), w ho appears in Loj-t Highevay . H is appea rance testin.es once more ro the lin k between the two films but also to a crucial d iffer ence. L ike the Mystery Man, tbe C owboy is on the onc hand a figure of paternal autb ority, but on the othe r he is almost colllpletel y asexual. Both men have faces th ar loo k fem in ine, w ithout a ny facial hair--even cyeb rowsoIn addi ti on, both ha Ye a sm all buil d a nd spca k 5oftly. This is especially noticeable in tbe case of the C owboy (in parr because of our expecta tions about co wboys). In LoJf HighUJay, lhe Mystery Man func lion s as a superegoic presence for F red Mad ison, an internal represen tative of the L aw. He caUs Fred to take up his position w itbi n the sym bolic order. The Co wboy perform s a similar fU Dction in M ulhollan Drive: a fter the dissolution o f Diane's fantasy, he pusb e~ Dia ne in the direction of he r symbo lic posirion. Ca ll ing Dia ne back into the world of dcsire, tbe Cowboy enacts a superegoic functi on . But the film also re veals superflui ty of the superego: he tells Diane to wa ke up afie,. her fantasy has already broken clown . W hy ? T be prese nce of the Cowboy qua su perego a ll ows D ian e to believe that her experiencé' of the empti ness of tbe object was the result of the l:Iw's in te rvention ra mer than a n:vdati on :t hOtll the object itsel f. That is to say, the su peregoic C0111 l11an d-"w;d,,· 111','· in [hi ~ case -p rese rves for the 'lub ject the idea that, hUl Jiuo Ih i ~ lllllll l\ ~ II ICI , lhe.: sexual rd "Ii'Ul\ hip might ha ve succceded .
: 1I 11/ln l ¡ IIND ca / V I I I ',
The suhjcct crcates cO'vvho)'s and mystery men in order to avoid recog ni zing the truth of the object.
pressure d oes not e a~c Ihe hllrd ~1I flj dc\i re, as lh e second pa rt of the film reveals.
W hile the superego provides an alibi fo r the failcd sexual relarion, it also pressures the subject tO enjo)' itself sexual ly. L ike the Mystery Ma n, rhe Cowhoy i~ also a superegoic figure beca use he represenrs a pressure to enjoyo As Lacan poinrs out in h is ;! ccount of m e superego, "Noth ing forces anyone to enjo)' exccpt rhe superego. The superego is the impera ri ve of jouissance-Enjoy! " 2) Hence, rhe superego places contradictor)' dema nds on th e subject-at once requiring obedience to the law :l nd e11 joyment. This is why the Cowboy appears to Diane ar AJam's party just at a moment when sh e helplessly looks on and envies those w ho are en joying Camilla (right after Camilla kisses another \voman and righ t be fore Acla m announces their engagement). The supcrego capitali zes on the subject 's se nse that the othcr is enjoying in its sread, w hich is prccisel y w hat Diane fecls in this situation.l(j The Mys tery M an first appears to Fred Madison at a similar Il1oment-at a party where he sees orhers c n joy ing his wife Re nee. But the Cow boy is a much less territying figu re than the M ystery Man. If the Mystery Ma n is a filmic manifesta rion of the superego, rhen the Cowboy is a lesser ve rsion. Th c di ffe rcnce between th e M ysre ry Ma n and rhe Cow hoy attesrs ro the associarion of Lost H ighway w ith the structure of malc subjecti vity and Mulholland Drive w ith the structure of fem aJe subject ivity. Por the female subjec t, the superego lacks the fcroci ty that it atrains in the case of tbe male sllhjecl. As Frelld infamou sly puts it, U[ ca nnot evade l he notion (though I hes itate to give il ex pression) thar fo r women rhe Ieve1 of what is eth icall y normal is diffe renr from w hat ir is in meno Their super-ego is neve r so in exo rable, so impersonal, so ind epe nd en r uf its emotiona l origins as we require it to be in men. ":>7 C ritics ha vc, of cOllfSe, often condemncd F rcud for this account of the supcrcgo's 1ack of de velopme nt in women . But Freud's only mistake consists in his he lief that attribu r.i ng a Lessenecl supcrcgo to women represem s an erhical indictm ent. On the contrary, as Lacan emphasizes in hi s seminar on ethics (Seminal' VI!), the superego marks th e poinr at w hich the sub ject abandons rh e ethical position and gives ground rclari ve to ber clesire. Ir the male subject has a more d eve10peJ superego. rh i\ tc.:sLifics to his eth ical failing, not his erhical purity. W hcn w<, ( 11111 r;l,t the C(lwboy w il h
By showing us a \ovorl d "r dl",irc cn ti rely separate from any fantas matic resolurion to that tk~j¡ e, Lynch ¡ilustrates just how unbearable the subject (Diane, in thi, ca se) fin ds rhe posirion of pure desire. The enjoyment rhat the imp()~,il I1 c ohjecr conra.ins seems to exist righ t be fore her eyes-in t he ligun: <)f Cami lla Rh odes-and yet it remains wholly out of rcach. U nablc to su:.t:lin her status as rhe subject of desire, Diane "give:. ground relali ve to her Jes ire," as sbe hires a killer lO elimi nate Ca mi ll a. Shc sac rifi ces the objece beca use she cannot endure tbe inescapable dissati sfaclion that it p rodu ces. 28 But as the con clusion of Mulholland Drive un Jerl inc!>, tbe subject cannot si m pl y el iminate the object-cause of one's uesi re. This object is me subject's concla re. The ontological consistency of the subject's wo rld depends on the ex istence of th e impossible objec t, th e obj ect that resi sts integra tion into that world and yet sustains ir w ith rhis resistance. As a res ult , Oi anc's w orld of desire finally hreak s apan when she succeeds in destroy ing her love obj ect. A l the end o f lhe fi lm , a blue key appea rs on tb e coffee table of Dia ne's apartme.nt, signaling to Diane t ha t the killer w hom she hired ro k iU Camill a has completed me jobo
the Mystery Man, Mulh olland Orive 1l1 ~lk l '" Id, 111 IlIt rcl:lIivc li rnid il}' (lfthe su pe rego that Di ane 1Tl1lSI- !:hT. \",1 ';11. d ll' 1I".·.\!)l·d ~111Krcgo i(
216
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W ith the dea tb o f Camil la, the ba rrier between the world of desi re and m e world of famasy collapses, and Dia ne's fantasy life begins ro in trude into her life of desire. T he in trusion occurs in the form offantasy fi gu res trom the fi rst part of rhe film, Thc smiling e1derly cou ple w ho com forted Betty on her ar riva l in Los A ngeles here retu rns to terrify Oia ne. The fil m shows the old ma n
MIII /lnl l ANO ORIVe
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fantasized about this clderly couple and c1early finds comfon in their fantasma tic presence. But this in no way means that she actually wants to encounter them . As Freud notes in his discussion of Oora's neurosis, "If what lsubjects] long for the most intcnsely in their phantasies is pre sented to them in reality, they none the less flee from it." Jo This is what occurs with the arrival ofthe fantasmatic elderly couple into the world of desire. When Oiane confronts them, she confronts the traumatic real that emerges from the heart of her fantasy and that triggers a break down of the very structure of her world. In the end, she opts for suicide rather than enduring the trauma of this encounter. But for a final brief montage, Oianc's death concludes lVfulholland Drive. Through her suicide, the film suggests the intractability of thc situation for ,rhe subject. The turn to fantasy, a gesture that promises respite from the tortures of desire, always comes back to haunt the sub jtct. In providing an escape from desire, fantasy pus hes the subject in the direction of the traumatic real. /\.s Lynch's film shows, fantasy opens the subject to an otherwise impossible exper1ience. Subjects often retreat from dcsire into fantasy, but just as often, they retreat from fantasy rather than experience the sense ofloss-the encounter with the empti ness of the impossibl e object-with \vhich it con fronts them. But Mul holland Drive obeys completely the logic of fantas y. H ence, it is appro priate that a fantasy figure has the last word in the film. In the film's final shot, Lynch depicts a woman with blue hair sitting in the balcony at Club Silencio who utters the w ord "Silencio." The film 's final word is not Lynch's warning to the spectator to abandon the illusions of f::rn tasy. It is not a call for quiet after all the rumblings of Diane's fantas)'. On the contrary, Mulholland Drive makcs c1ear t hat it is onl y by insist ing on fantasy w the end that one arrives at the experience of silence. This is the silence that exists between fantasy and desire- the trau matic silcnce of the real that the noise of everyd ay life always obscures. Mulholland Drive is Lynch's most existential film. By concluding with the traumatic silence of the real, it allows the spectator to experi ence the mome nt ofloss that generates subjectivity itself and yet which all the actions of the subject attempt to escape. The bS5 of the privileged object is the moment of the subjcct's birth and rh e momeo! that defi nes subjectivity as such. If \Ve could sustain l"IlIlla CI wilh Ih is momcnt, we would free oursdves from the illu:-.orv I'f llll lÍ"'" ,,1 id t'Cll tl¡.n' and the blandishm ents of ca pitalist aCCllllIII(;¡ ,h IJ' WL \\,1'IlI cI Wl' 1har <.: ni oy
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ment derives from not havi ng th e ob ject rather than having and thus avoid the struggle to have more. Lynch takes us to this point of pure loss, and he does S0, paradoxically, through the very fantasy that tries to escape it. Most fantasies-and especially the mass-produced fantasies of Hollywood-fail to be fantasmatic enough because they reCuse to fol low their own logic to its end point. They thus never arrive at the expe rience of silence that condudes Mulholland Drive. This is precisely the shortcoming that drives Theodor Adorno's critique of Hollywood film. As he says in Minima M01'alia, "lt is not because they turn their back on washed-out existence that escape-films are so repugnant, but beca use they do not do so energetically enough, because they are themselves just as washcd-out, beca use the satisfactions they fake coincide with the ig nominy of reality, of denial." 31 For Adorno, Holly\vood films do not fail-they are not ideological-because they go too far in the direction of fantasy but because they do not go far enough. As we have seen, Mulholland Drive functions as a kind of implicit response to Adorno's critique. Ir turns to fantasy completely-"energetically enough," in Adorno's idiom-and it clemands such a response from its spectators. Subjects tod ay have remained too removed from fantasy, resisting the experience toward which it compels them. Sut Mulholland Drive, like all of Lynch's films, calls us toward a fu ll immersion into fantasy, to ward abandoning ourselves to its logic. Only in this way can we achieve the impossi ble.
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analysis ofhuman reasQn's lim iWlioos. Ka nt show s tha t reaso n can not
CONCLUSION T he Ethics ofFantasy
appl y the concepts from o ur L1 ndcrsta nJing beyond the limit of possible ex perie nce and that when it .lttem pts to do so, it falIs into antinomies. '\ntinomies are points at w h ich reason arrives at tw o contradictory conc\usions, and they testify ro reason 's fail ure to unclerst.'lnd every thing. But the limit is Dot ju sI epistemological: the very existence of the antinom ie$ indicates an ineom plete ness in our very re.di ty ilselfthat no effon of tho ug h t could re medy. As Ka nt argues in his diseussion of the third a n tinomy, if we l r y to reaSQD abou r freed om, we w ill inevitably faH into contradicti on , prov ing chat we are fr ee alld , a t th e sa m e time, that causali ty gov e ms ~JJ ou r actions. Both ca usality a nd frccdom are true, but th ey can 't bo th be tr ue (w hich indicates rha r rea son here over steps its bounds , specula ting beyond the field of possible experienee illto ulti mate q uest ions).2 Just as Lyn ch's fi lm s reveal the imposs ible bin d of
If Lynch's films do, as I've suggested , presen t us \-vith the ethical dimen sion of fantasy, this is oot a common way of thinking about ethi cs . While psychoanalyticall y inclioed thi nkers h ave el aborated cthical po sitions based 00 desirc or the dr ive, few hav e explicidy coneeived of an ethics of fao tasy.' The noti on ma t fantasy has ao eth ical componen t seems absurd 00 the surfacc beca use fantasy represents a turn away from others ra ther than an atternpt to eogage th em . H ow can 1 be act ing ethicall y when 1 retreat into m y ow n private construction io order to avoiJ the disappoiotm e nts of the external worl d ? It is Irnmanuel Kant who p rovi des the aoswer. T hough it has been Hegel and psychoan aly sis that havc until this point provided the te rms for m y app roach to Lync h, only Kant clarifies the direct link between fantasy aod ethics rhat guides Lynch's filmmaking. This is because Kant creates th e same di vide in hi s thought betweeo the real m of desü e and the realm of fan tasy tna t Lynch constructs in his films. T h is divide al\ows both Kant and Lynch to see how em ies m i¡;h l lie on m e sitie of fa otasy. I n the C,-itique of Pure Reasol1, KU nl l:X p(, lI (",. 11 11' il\ll ll11pkle nes5 nf our social reali ty (wh at ['111 cdl il\}¡ 11 11 leíd' il 1.11 ,hJ ln' ) Ih ro \lgh h is
70
a desiring subj eet lik e Dia ne (Naomi W a tts) in MulhollandDrive (200r), Ka nt's antinomies show m e powe rl essness of reason to solve rne m ost impo rtant questions. As long as we remain w ithin lhe Ileld of our social realiry-on rhe pla ne of d esire-we h ave questions w ithout an$we rs. O ne of K ant's ch ief aim s in w ritiog the Critique ofPure Reason is to convi nce LIS ro aceept the tim itation s of reason and abandon our spee u lative, p hiloso pbical fa n ras ies coocerning the i mp o~ s i b l e questi o n~ that reason cannot answer. T he fu st Critique is th us ,. Lynch'<; hrst fc:\ • nNc. t jJ C', ,_ION
'·,' 1
Th is is rhe rr~'n 1111 11 I1I 1I \'"4 .1~1! I ~ I\tr~ 1 P~d Il1c r (Sberyl Lee) d iscover at the end ofTwin }jl'./k\ FIII 11'1"'" /I,¡,J, !lIt: (f 992), whe n she acts aga inst a l! patho/ogical mou v:Hi, Hl\ and J 1I /!'. 11 1) lile ring in order ro defy BOB. Ir is the frcedom thar all ows A lvill '-it I .li¡.:11l (Richa rd Farnswo rrh) ro endure multiple humi l i a ti on ~ in o [l b l !l -"ce his brothe r a final ti me in The
ture ends with an emphasis on the destructi v en e~s that a commitment to fantasy engenders. Lik c the Kant of the Critiq ue of Pure Rc:ason, the carly Lynch focuses on the dangers of fantasy. BUl K a nt does not stop writing with the first Critique, just as Lynch does not stop making films \vith J:raserhead. W hen he composcs the Critique of Practica! Reason, Kant explores the sphere offan tasy (though he doesn't use this term) that goes beyond the limitations he üutlin ed in th e first C,.itique. In the second Critique, Kant locates the moral b w at precisely the point of a fantasmatic beyond. Kantian ethics as it is artic ulate d in this work marks a fundamental break from the implicit, anti
Stmight Story (1 999) ' T hc:-;,' ;I~' I 'i nCCllr when subjects transcend th eir ev eryday social rea liry thrctLIglt Iheir absoJute commitm en tto fa ntasy. There ,is somcth íng l"ulIJn mentally li beratory in the structure offan tas y. Because f3n tasy stag-es a scene rarher th an providing an ans wer on the leve! of th nught. alone, il is able ro sh ü'vv us w hat necessari ly rema ins in visible w ith in m e sym bolic stru cture. 8 F antasy takes the subj ect be yond the rules mat gove rn possible experie nce-beyond the limits of the und ersta.nd ing-a nd rhereby envision s the im possible, as we have seen in each of Lynch's fi/rns. On the one hand, rhis im age of rhe beyo nd deceives rhe su bject into rhinking tha t it has access to an object tha t ir doesn 't in actualiry have; but ün the other hand, the fantas m alic sce nario allows m e subject to cn ter a place w here the ord inary rules no Jo nger appl y. By immersing oursel ves in this beyond and remaining faithful to fantasy's logic, we inj ect, as it were, a diffcrent orde r of cau sality into the phenomena l worid. Ir is in this sense tha r complete iden tificario n with rhe fa ntasy's derou r has the statu s of an emical act, an act in w hich we d isrega rd the entire fi eld of representati on an d the dic tares f sym bolic law.
fan tasmatic ethic of the fírst Criúque . For Kant, our very abili ty to give law s to ourselv es sticks out excessivdy from the phenomenal world of representation. lf causality governed al! events without a hitch, Ka nt wo nders, why wo uld a being construct laws, when their very form you must obey regard less of what natural causes are leading you ro do-suggests a freedom that defies causality" Kant'~ g reat insight re ve rses our usual way of thinking about the relationship between law and freedom: we don't have laws beca use we are free; we are free be cause we have laws . Or, as Kan t puts it, the subjec t recognizes "that he can do som ething beca use he is a wa re that he ought to do it an d cog ni zes freedom within him, which, without the moral law, wo u/ d have rem ained unkn own t(l him."5 Our 3bili ty to giv e oursdves b ws does not fi t w ithin the world of cau sality and pro ves rhat a nother realm-3 rea/m of freedom-necess3rily exists. Becallse the morallaw has this exccssive rdatio n ro rhe phe nomcnal wo rid, one cannot sim p/y .'ice Kant as proffering two alrernare and pa ral le! m oda lities ofsubjectivity--{)ne theoretica l and one practical. GIt is not just tha t we are either d etermin ed or free depenclin g on the perspectivt that one takes. Jnstea d, th e two moda/ities exist in a dia/ ectical rela tion: practical reason (fantasy) emerges in respon se to the failure of [hcoretical rcason (desire). Practical reason is fanta smatic because it per mits lis to kno\\' th\:: impossible-the fact of our freedom, w h ich is precisely w hat theoreti cal reason leaves constitutively unkno wab/e. T hroug h the use nf our practical reason, we can ide ntify w ith a fant~ls!l1 alic beyond-thM is, embrace the morallaw- and thereby tTaI1S( , li d ti 11: 1il11 its vf Lhc()retic: d reaso n, limirs which are consonant witIl tll"~( r".lhli,hcd hy lhe sym bo lic law. Ir is onl y th rDug h f; lnl;¡~ y tI ,.I! \\'\ ol l',I! '\' 1 I f rn'd ' " I1- o r, in Ka n t 's t.c rrn ~, a lIlono1l1 y r ;!I " n tIl; \11 11\ f, 1 ((lIofll \
Fantasy a llows us to discover ou r freedom only when we cease re ga rding it as ao escape frorn our real ity a nd begin to see it as m ore rea l man ou r reali ty. T be real becomes visible in tlle obvious fa kery of the fantasy. By idcntifying fully wi th one's fa ntasy as what is real, ün e val ues me fantasm atic di sto rtion in being ov er bei ng itse!f-alld thereby privi leges me gap in the str uct ure of ideolog y and the breach in the reign of ca llsality. By em bracing one's own fa n rasy publidy and givi ng up m e idea of o ne's own fantaS)' as a priva te retrea r from the world, one accom plish es m e ethical act. 9 Cinem a is tbe privi lcged si te for facili taün g such acrs because its very pu blic scree nin g of private fa ntasy. Bu t in order to realize the eth ics uf bnta ~y, cincl'n a lll ust find a way to take famas y ro il S ene! pll inL. T hi s is w ltal Dav id I.ync h atcomplishes by isoJating the ",,, ri el ~ lJll a~y ;IS ;¡ d istinll r(":" 11 1 wid lin the ¡-¡lm ie exper ience. He lorm involves
or
I
11.lhlc:. II~
me
,ti ~n
II/JW di(" illSi' ll'1I1
eh VIIIIII" 111 '¡ II l'\ í: I IlUl$y thru sts the
. nNCIUSION
223
subject into the realm of freedom. Rather than he,i ng an imaginary re treat from al1 unpleasant reality, fantasy becomcs fur Lynch the path that takes us beyond the false limitations that mak e up our cveryday reality. Through an absolute commitment lO our fantasies, we change the nature of reality itself.
NOTES
Infroduction: The Bizarre Nafure of Normality I.
Sec Rain er Maria Rilk e, "The Archaic Torso of Apollo," Thc Sclected Po
ctry of Rainer Maria Rilke, tra ns, Stephen MitchelJ (New York: Vinrage, 1989), 61-62. 2.
O rson Welles and Peter Bogdanovich, This Js 01'son We/les, ed, Jonathan Rosc nba um (Ne w Yo rk: Harpe rC ollins, 1992),2 [7.
3. For an elaboration of this idea, see Chris tian M etz, The Jmaginary Szgnifier:
Psychoanalysú and Cinema, trans, Celia Britton, Ann w yl Williams, Ben Brewster, and Alfred Gu zzetti (Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1982). 4, Mc tz, Jmaginary Signifier, 48, S. La ura Mulvey, "Visual Pleasure a nd Narrative Ci nema," in Bil! Nichols, ed., Movies and Methods, vol. 2 (Berkeley: U of California P, 1985), 307. 6, This is a point that Jean-Paul Sartre stresses in his chapte r on "Tlle Look" in Being and Nothingncss, For Sartre , th e subject cannot avoid its funda mental situatedness, which means that it cannot avoid the Other's look, which follows the subject everywhere. As Sartre puts it, "The Other is present
lO
m e everywhcrc as the one through whom 1 become an object. "
Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingncss, transo Hazel E. Barnes (New
7.
Yo rk: Washi ngto n Squa re Press, 195 6), .373. W ill g~'ns l ( 'ill Il lllkes a similar point w hen he insists th ar there is no private Llngll al'1I' F"r W ilt gc nstei n, la ngungc , \\Iilh its basis in rules, depenus on
1I1L' " " . 1' 22.
TH~ IMfO$510,1
l1¡O.V I C ~ '!'I,H; II
rlll 1,1
111I1I1 1plr: spe::;¡ker s, 1; ) gi \'" " 1111" 1" on esd r :rl one wo uld be 225
nonsensical because no one could say whcther o ne vi()Lates the rule or nor.
¡ 7.
Karl Ma r x, CapitaL, v ol.
1;
A Critical AnaLyús olCcrpitalút Production , t ranso
As Saul Kripke puts it in his grou ndbreakin g wor k on Wi ttge ns te in 's pri
Samuel M oore and Ed w ard Ave ling (New York : ln ter n ational Publishe rs,
vate hl nguage argument, "a11 talk of an indi vi dual f()lIowil1g r ules has ref
19 67), 77· 18. It was H erbe rt M arcusc w ho fi rsl no ticed the disconn ection bet wccll be lief
erence ro him as a member of a communi ty" (Saul K ripke, Wittgenstein on
Rules and Private Languuge: An ELementary Exposition [Cambridge: Har
and obedi en ce in adv anced capi talisr socicry- an id ea dev clo ped more
vard UP, 1982], 109)' Though we can use language pri va te ly, hlnguage
full y by Pete r Slotc rdij k an d Slavoj Z izek . I n One-DimelJ.iiom¡/ Mall. Mar
origina tes as a public activity, and this public dimension continues to in
cuse la m ents, "The ne w to u ch o f the magic-rituall :m gu agc rat.her is tha r
form every private use. 8. F. ,. e n the filmmaker ,.,'1'0 m akes films just for herlhimse1f, films neve r tu be screened for a single spectaror, nonetbd ess posits th e non e xiste nt spec
people d on 't belicvc it, or d o n' r care, and ye t act acco rdi ng ly." H erbert Mar cu~e,
One-Dimensiol7tll Man (B05lO n; Beacon P réss, 1964), 103.
19. C hi on 's book , while full of ou tsta nd lng insi g hts in to L ynch's fi lms, neve r
tator in the making of the film. As is th e case w ith the di a rist, this film
rries to bring these i.n sights togcthcr into a cohe rt nr vi sio n of Lynch as a
maker makcs refere nce
fi lmmakcr. In faer, C hion activcly resists such a visio n and would u nd ou bt
lO
th e spectator or audien ce throug h th e very act of
turning to an inhertntly public m edium . If one we re simpl y maki ng a film
edl y see ir as a viola tion of [he fra gm en red narure of Ly nclt 's project. ZiZe k 's
for onese1f or writing for onese1f, there w auld be no need for the detour
book , in con t rast, g ras ps a central id ea behind Ly nch's fil mma ki ng a.n d
through a form that othe rs are able to comprehend. This detour testifies ro
link s it ro psych oana lytic th eo ry, but he does no t extcnd t his conncction
the prf~s"nce ofthe public at the hcart oflbe most priva te production.
beyo nd Lost Highwuy .
9. Thc test scrccning is the objectiv e correlatj\ ~ ofthis J ynami c; it reveals e x plicitly that th e studios shape films according to ¡h e spectaror's look . But even films that studios d on 't submit to a test sc ree ning (like l he m a jo rity of
20. Ma rtha NClC h i mson, The Passioll 01 David Lynch: WiLd ar Heart ill HoLly
wood (A ustin: U of Texas P, 1997), 13. 21 . Thc rclationshi p berween rh e deconstructive attit ude and sLlsraining clis
Ly nch 's films) sti11 anti cipa te [he spectator 's look in tbe w ,ry that they a re
tanCt~ is ev ident in the th oug ht of Ja eques D errida. Dcco nstruction enables
structu red . A di rector c reates a film in order that the speClato r will see it in
D err ida ro a.vo id being p inned d own to a specific ph il osophi ea.l posirio n.
a specific way, eve n ir, pe r ve rsel y, [he ultimate ho pe is that rh e spee tator
When e yer a e ri tic attcm pts ro say stra ighrfor wa rdly what d cco nstrueti ()n
make a film no' or
is, the eritic always gc ts it wrong because d eco nstru ctio n h as no cssence; it
ganizeJ a round the speetator's luok, it is ve ry di ffieu lt to m a ke the specta
is instcad th e fo rce tba t und erm ines esse nee. O ne II ceessa rily c!cconSlructs
will despi se it. Though it is structurally impossible
lO
tor aware of this fact. 10. Joel Black, T he Reality Effect: Film Culture alld the C"aphic Imperative
frorn a 5afe d istance . 22. Pau l A . W ood s, Weirdsvitlc, USA : The Obsessive Univer.,e 01 David Lyllch
ondo n; Plex us, J997), 7· (Ne w York: Routlcdge, 2002), 6t. 23. The di visiOl1 berwccn th e wo rld s of d esire and fantasy in Lynch's fi lm s 11. Bertolt Brech t, "The E p ic Theat re and lts D ifficulties" in Brecht 071 T he tak es place wilhi n lhe brger fantasy st ruc ture rh at is the film itself. Bc ater, ed. and transo John W ille tt (New Yor k: Hill and Wa ng, 196 4),23. 12. M ul vey, " Visual P lcasure and N a rrati vc Cinem a," 315. M ulvey was nut
cause he prese nts the world of desire w ithin tbe fantasrn at ic m edi um o f
content simply ro theo ri ze this alterna tiv e. Shc also mad e a fil m , Riddle.ío(
film, th is world is necessari ly a fa ntasi zed im age of the wo rlJ of d esire.
the Sphinx (1977), cod irected wi th P ete r Wollen, w hi ch attempts to placc
24. loa.n C op jec, Read My Deúl'c; L aam Agaimt the Histo rie/sts (C:Jmbridge: M IT Press, 1994), 54 (her em pha sis).
the specta tor in the position of "passionate detachment. " 13. Metz , Imagincll"j Sígnifier, 3· 14- C ons ta nce P enley, "The Avant-Garde and lts Imaginar y," in N ichols, cel.,
Mouies and Methods 2:596 (her emphasis). 15. In stead of Godard, o ne rn igh t eq ua lly focus o n Agncs Varda, Chris Ma rkcr, Stan Bra kha ge, o r C hanral Acke rman, ju., t 16. P ascal Bonitze r, Le champ tl lleugLc: C a b ie rs du cinéma,
71 t,
N O 1 [S
1()')9), ')1
1(1
n¡lllll' ~ rcw.
r;S.'ai, (I/r fe 1'(" t.lwll( · (/11
(my Ir:lIl·.I.IIi",,)
25 . Slg mu nd F reud, "Negatio n" (1 925), trJn s. Jam es Strachey, in The Standard
Editio71 olrhe Complett' Psychologlcal WOl'ksol Sigmtwd Freud (he rea fte r, SE ), vo L ' 9 (London: H ogarth P ress, 19ór), 237 (F re ud 's emp hasisl. T he concep
non oCa psyehoan alyt ic nor m ali [y has no d irect roo l in Freud's own thnug h t. Fre uJ n\:vcr up h o lds a ccr win idea of normali lY, even one in cont ras l to
c¡'1It'mu
(P'lrj,;;
bOl! r.({l·oj, Hormul ity, For fear tha.r psycb oan nlysi,
111 igh l
b ec~) m e a normaJi z
ing 1'1.11 1j... (.1 ' 111.l rgely becn me in tl1l' U n il('d '-;1;11<:, ). N nn etheless, on e can
I"OH!~.
777
th e hasis of wh at F rc u d sa ys about ne urosis
las ks as it is a bk to 50 1\'c, sinc<: close r exa mi ' IJ ti on will a lways show that
and p~ yc hos is. This idea of normality GJ.nnot serv~ as anything but a way of
th e pro bl em itsclf ari scs onl y whe n th e material condit ions for its solution
und e rstanding th e elirection that ps)'choan a lysis takes the subject.
are already present or at \cast in t he course o f for mation." Karl Marx, A
construct th e idea neg atively
011
COlltribution to th e Critiq ue of Polítical Fwnomy, transo S . W. R yaza n ~ kaya
26. This id ea figur es pro mincntly in phenom enological fi lm theory. A s Fra nk Tom3sulo has pointed
Out
(New York : Inte rna tional Publishers, 1970),21
in his essay on rh e Roelney Ki ng viJeotape,
"Human be ings ra re ly enter a sit ua tion, historical or otherwise , with a
]2. T
fr esh, ul1tainted pe rspectiv e. In other worels, peo ple ge ne rally do not come
actly. Both A ndre i Tarko\'sky in Stalker (1979) and Wim Wenders in Wings
to believe l hings afier seeing rhe m; th ey see t hings un ly w he n th ey already
ofDeúre (t 987) use th e diffe rence be twce n blac k-and -w hite and color pho tography in rh e same way thatFlem ing does in The Wizard ofOz.
bdieve them- based on their prior LebetlStvclt anel m edia e xposure." Frank T o m as ulo, " TII See Ir Wh e n I Bel icve Ir': Rodney King and th e
33 · C hris Rodl ey, ed., Lynch on Ly17Ch (London: Fabe r a nd F abe r, 1997), 194.
Prison-house o fVídeo," in Vivían Sobchack, cd ., Th e Persistenct! (Jf History:
34· rn the Intmductory Lectures, Frc:ud says. "nellrotics m e rely ex hib it to us
'inema, Television, and th e M odern Event (Ne w Yo rk: Routlcdge, 1996),82
in a magn ified a nd coa rsened form w ha t the ana lysis of dreams re vea ls to us in healthy people as wd!." Sigmund Frcud, Intmductory Lectures on
(Tomas ul o's emphasi s) . 27. As F reud puts it, " both in neurosis a nd psyc hosis th cre co m es into
Psycho -A naLysis (1916- 17), tra ns o James St rachcy, in SE, vol. [6 (London:
COI1
H og;,rth Press, 19(3),338.
sidera tíon the qu es rion not onll' of a to.'s of rcaLity hut also of a sub.((¡útte
for rea tity." Sig mund Freuel, "The Loss of Reality in Neu rosis and Ps y chosis" (1924), transo James Strachey, in SI:", vo\. 19 (1961): 187 (Freud's
35· Fo r a n elabo rn tion o f thi s idea of the spec rato r conceived in terms of the thea tc r rathe r th:lIl the ci ne m a , see \ Valter A . D av is, Get the Guest.s: Psycho
analysis, M odem Am('t'ícall Drama, illld the Audience (Mad ison : U af W is
emphasis).
conSln P, 1994) .
28. For more on the cine m :ltic deploymc nt of desire and fa ntasy, see T odd McGowa n, The Real GaZt': Film Theory Afier Laam (A lban y: Seate U o f
36. F rcud d efi nes rhe expe ri ence of lhe unca n ny as the recogniti o n of che fa mi li ar with in th c strange, and, acco rdin g to this definition , one must caunt
New York P, 2o(7)'
Ly nch as one o f th e: premic re film m a k ers o f th e lInGUlny. See Sig mun d
29. T o p ut it in t he te rms of Russían Form alism, M emento g ives us a syuzhet (plot) without· afabula (story): it is impossibk
!O
Fre ud , "Th e Uncln ny" ( 191 9), t ra nso Alix Strachey, in SE, vo!. 17 (Lon
co nstruct a cohcrc nt fa b
don : Hoganh Press, 1955),21 8-56.
ul a fro m th e d e ta il s that the sYllzhet g ives uso If o ne doe s artempt to con srruct a fabula
(liS
is pe rhaps inevita ble), th (' fa ntasma tic d ime nsion of the
37. Ofle cou lJ a lso co unt A lfred H itchcoc k, An drei Tar kovsky, A la in Resn ais,
exercise bccom es ob viou$ beca us e one must ckarly rel y on nne's ow n as
Wi m Wend e rs , clnd fa ne Campíon a mong the fi lmm :1ke rs with a Hegelian
sllmptions rather than on conclusivc indications from the syuzhet. This
orientation. Eac h c reares distance in relation to the spec tator in order sub
suggests rhat th e co nstruction uf a fabu la as such ís a fantasma ti c gcs ture
sequently
and lhal film s which allow l he specta tor ro deciph e r a cohe re nt fabu la bc
rra l an d tak e n it fur the r than anyo ne elsc.
lO
brea k it down. But Lynch has made thi s aes th etic more cen
38. G . W. F. Hegel , Th e PhenomenoLogy of Spirit, transo A. V. M ille r (Oxfo rd :
tray a n in ves tm em in fantasy.
Oxfo rd UP, t 977), 14 (Hcgel's emphasis) .
30. Thi s is not to say, of cou rse, th al th e films contain pure rep resen tations of
H egel, Phellomenology ofSpirit , 200 (Heg cl's c mpha sis) .
fama sy and pure re prese nta tio ns of worlds wholl y lacking in fantasm atic
)9.
eleme nts. Inste:1d , in óne we sce the ge neral structure of famasy a nd in t he othcr th e genera l structure of desire. One ca nn ot en tire ly sep;lnUe famas)'
40. Ibid., 492. 4 1. JI1$1" :1 5 Ly nc h ins ists on <, cin em atic commitmem to fam:1 sy without re
and desire, but by cstablishing clea r differe nces in th e styl e betwee n the
spi re, the chap te rs that foll o w ev ínce a simil a r com mitmem to rh e thcoreti
two parts of the fi lm, L ynch is able tO rcveal th e di stinct log ic of each.
ell rantas}' dl a t m akc~ selbe o[Ly nc h 's cinema in tCrIns of its relationship
3 1. Sla vo j Z ize k, Looking AtVry: An l ntroduction
Popular CuLtul'e (Ca mbridge: MI T Prcss.
'~R
he re h ave been dircc to rs w ho ha ve foll o wcd Flemíng's d ivision m o re ex
fO
I l}lll ), (,
Thmuf!/¡
ro fa masy. T hnt i ~ to sayoat no point d o I note how Lyn ch's films might not
('Z lic k" empha sis). Marx
fír \V it hi n t h is t hc()rc ti c.,1 a pproa ch. 1 ha ve const ructed the book in this
Jacquc:s
Lacal1
makes a simila r point ahour the rcl:ltilll1'hil' 1,, ·t \\"·" 11 d t',in.: and (;1111"')'
w a y-n ~" ,t i l1 g
wh en he poims out that. " Mank illd 11 \11', IlInn.tl, ly ,. t\ it "c lr 1)111 Y '11ell
rl rI \1" 1", Iil' i d], 11 ,," 1Y ' lI .:h
N0 11 ..,
;111 ;th ~o l ute inre r prl'talioll . 1.. pllt il in H egel\ ter ms---out ; \11
iIItl q ," ·t;t t iO Il 1:1 kn I he i nr.:x pl ica bl e di m e n-
NOTH
1'/9
sion of Lyneh's \York seriously by showing how iL Cunctions rather than by
Has Come Round at L 'ISt]," Canadian ¡ouma! of Film Studies
simply pointing it out.
68). By fragmen tio g rhe bod y wirh light, Lynch creates a boJy of desire, a
42. Jaeques Laea n, Le Séminaire, livre XVJl: L'Envers de la psychallalyse, ed. Jacques-Alain Miller (Par is: Se uil , 199 1), [43 (m y tram lation).
bod)' visibly burJened by lack. David Lynch ,Lynch on L ynch , ed. Chris Rodley (London: Fabe r and Faber, 1977), 56 .
9·
43. By e1iminating distanee, Lynch's films also elimi nate any sense of an objec tive rclationship bc twee n spectator a nd ~cree n . As C h ristele Couleau puts
').2 12000]:
it, " \Vhat is important is ofte n less what one sces (man)' details remain un
10. Paul A. Woods, Weirdsvit/e, USA: The Obsesúv{' Unil:'CI'se of Dav¡{l Lynch (London, Plcxus, (997),34.
decidable, v€ en imagc by image) than what one beheves one sees, what o ne
1 I.
wants ro see." Christel e Couleau, "Éloge et pouvoir d e I' A bscnt: Sur Lost Highway et i\4ulholland Drive de David Lynch ," Recherches et travaux 64 (2004): 241 (Couleau's emphasis; rn)' translation).
Greg Hainge, "Weird or Loopy? Specular Spaces, F eed back, and Artifice in Lost Highwcty's Aesthetics of Scnsation," in Erica Shcen a nd A nnette D av iso n, eds., The Cinema of David Ly11Ch: American D" eams, Nightmare Visions (London: WaJlflowe r, 2(04), 138.
12. The re is a direct pa ralleJ between the wo rk e r's sac ri/i ce ofe njo)'ment for the J.
Sacrificing One's Head for an Eraser
sake of the machin e ,tnd the pare nt'.~ sacri/ice of en joym e nt for the sake of the child. Th e mac hi ne and the chi ld cnjoy in the place ofrhe worker and
l.
2.
Christian Me tz, The Imaginary Signifier: Psychoanalysis al2d Cinema , transo
th e parc nr. E ,.asel'head implicitly ackn owledges this para /l el rhrough the
Celia Brinon, Ann wyl W illiams, Be n Brewster, and Alfred Guzzeni
link between its mise-en-scc ne (which providcs the background ofthe cn
(Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1982),91.
joying machine) and its n::m a ti ve (which hig hli g hts che presencc of the en
Daniel Daya n, "The Tudor-Code of Classical Cine ma," in Bill N ichols,
joying ba by). Ln each C
ed., Movies alld Methods, vol.
than one has sacrificed- in the form of either future rich es o r th e vicarious
1
(Bcrkcley: U of California P, 1976),451.
3. Infinite regress is not, ofcourse, the end of th e stor)' fo r Kant. The use of rca
enjoyrnent of the child who will ha ve o ppo rtunities tha t che parellt did not.
son to add ress transce nd e nt questions I ike that of th e or igin of the world re
~ Erascr/¡ead shows thro ug hout, capita lism capi tal izes on t he structure of
sults in dynamical antinomics whe rc both possible a nswers are wrong . Rea son can prove both that che world ca nnot have had a defi ni te orig in and that
hu man re p rod uction in order to convince subjects to invest themsd vcs in it. 13· Lacan notes rhat ir [S Ma rx's conceprion of su rpl us va lue th:lt allows him to
it must ha ve originated at sorne point. The question of origin is thus one of
d iscove r the existe nce of surplus en joymen t. che en joyment th ar em e rges
the key qu estions for its abili ry ro reveal the limitations of rcason .
in th e subject after an [nirial sacri/i ce o f e njoyment. See Jaeques L acan , L e
4. As Joan C opj ec points out, "we are born not into an alread y constituted
world that im p inges on o ur se nses to form pcrce ptions, but in the wa ke of
Séminoire. livre XVII: L'Envel:, de la psychalJalyse, ed. Jacq ues-A la in Mille r (Pa ris: Se uiJ, 1991).
Joan Copj ec, Imagá¡e There's N o WO/new: Etlúcs and
14- Sigmu nd F reud, Five Lectures on Psycho-Analysis (1 9 10 ) , transo James
Sublimatiol! (Cambrid ge: M TT Press, 2002), 192. 5. Jacques Lacan, The Four Fundamemal Concepts of Psyc/¡o -Analysis, tran so
15· Of eourse, the de piction of the mo ment w hen [a ntasy em e rges in Erase/'
a primordial
105S."
Alan Sheridan (N ew Yo rk: N ono n, 1978), 197.
6. Lacan, Four Fundamental C01U:epts, 198. 7. Michel Chion, David LY1/ch , tra nso Robert Julian (London: BFI, [995),35· 8. Aaron Ta)'lo r points out that Lynch's use of ligh ting produces partial bod ies on screen. According to Taylor, "the viewer's com plete attention is fo cussed on the bodies of th e characte rs and how th ey operate in space anrl
II
(Londo n: Hogarth P ress, [957),5°.
head is enrirely m ythical. As r pointed out ea rlie r, bntasy accompanies the experience of desire from rh e bcginning; there is no desire without its fan tas matic supplemcnt. BU l Lync h's se paration of th ese n:alms has the virtue of allowing us to see more precisel y whar strengthens and furth e rs the subject's arcach ment ro fa nta s)'.
especiall)' considering th eir fragm e ntar ion h ~' 1he \ t'ry ~c I CCl pools of lighl
16. Jacq ues LaC
which on ly illuminat.: parts oftheir ;1I1:1 III1I IY" \\, hil ,. hlcn.ling ¡he rest inl"
[8. G ive n [he li n k Iwtwee n sexcd reproducli o n an cl c:lstr::ttion, it is not surpris
time. These a re bodies tha t m ay be thought of as ra rdy co m plete o r w holc,
the surrounding d nrkness" (Á:l ro ll 1 :lvl"I .·' I{IIJI I,.h Ile 1\1' SI'lI trh low;lnl Bet hlchem lo Re 8u rn': h·m.f/ 'rllI'r/fl 111, 1 ti lO (tll,l, '11' " 1 Ii I. IIIII W h q~l' IllI u r
210
Strachey, in SE, vol.
No n
ing Ih:1I I V'" lo 1'.>I"" tc~ ¡he gcncsis uf Ih ~· id ..;, I;,r b 7lJ'erhead ar th e rime w lw lI 1.. 10 ,'1111 1, ,,,, he W;IS going 1" Iw.11:,tlllT.
NOTfS
'3 '
19. G. W. F. H egel, First Philosophy o/Spil"it, trans oH. S. I~I a rris, in '"System of
Ethical Life" and "Fint Phi/osophy ofSpirit" (Alban y: State U ofNew York
tor who rescued t".1errick f ruln carn iva l life. It was not bascd on the Bcr nard Pomerance play, which was aJapted into a tel ev ision movie in 1982.
P, 1979),233. 20. Judith Butler gives this position its most elaborate expression. See Judith
2. Martha P. Nochimson, The Passion ofDavid Lynch: Wild al Heart in H olly
Butler, "Competing Universalities," in Judith Butler, Slavoj Zizek, ana
3· Lynch 's focus on the warning "No Entry" eehoes the opening shot of the
wood (Austin: U ofTcxas P, 1997), 141-42.
Ernesto Laclau, Con tingen cy, Hegemony, Universality: Contemporal'y Dia
parad igm:uic film devoted to the impossible objeet- Citizen Kane (Orson
Logues on the Lefi (New York: Verso, 2000),136-81. 21. Few ha ve probably fantasized about th eir heads oeing uscd as material foe the proJ uc!ion of erasers, but the structure of fantasy requires a t teast some type of masochistic dimension, even if it transposes this masochism into sadismo In order to access the lost object, fantasy must revisit the expcri ence of 10ss, though it m ay do so by imposing loss on someone else. 22. Karl M:HX, The Economic and Philo.fOphic Manuscript.r of 1844, transo M ar tin Milligan (New York: Internat iona l Puhlishers, 1964), ISO (Marx's
Welles, 1941). Welles begins the /ilm with a shot of a "No Trespa ss ing"
emphasis). 23- For more on the continlled prcsence of the demand foe sacri/icc amldst
sign on the gate to the Kane estate, and the film subsequently revolves around the absent object attached to th e signi/ier "Rosebud." In each case, the sign assists in situating the object as impossiblc. 4· Enjo)'ment is not con/ined to moments to when one exceeds a symbo'lic limit, wh eD one tran sgresses, as w e might ex pect. Ir is much more common [or subjects to enjoy respecting the limit. even though this lea ves them within the confines of the symbolic law. Enjoyment exceeds che law, but it is also the point at which the law exeeecls itsclf, whi ch is why one can en joy driving 5'5 miles per hour every bit as much as one can enjoy clriving 155
co ntemporary capitalist society and its dcmands that we en jo)' ollrselves,
miles per hour. When ane enjoys dri ving 55, one enjoys this cxccss tha¡ is
see Toad McGowan, The f:nd o/ Dlssati.ifaction? Jacques f.acan and lhe
internal to the law. This is what Lacan did not yet see in Seminal' Vil,
Ernclging SOclcty of Enjoyment (A lba ny: State U of New York P,2004)· 24. \Vh en the subject makes the initial choice to enter the social o rd e r, shelhe does not cxperience it as a free cnoice. lt is, in Laca n's way of putting things, a forced choice, like th e ane that the thieves prcse nt to their victims when th ey ask, "Your money o r yOllr life?" The forced choice offers the subject a no-win situation in which one must choose life (the social order) in order tO ha ve a nything at al!. Be fore e ntering the social ord er, th e suo ject is nothing, not cve n a slIbject, a nd thus must agree to th e aet of sacri /ice. This sacri/ice constitutes me subject as such. But th e initial forced choice is not the cnd of rhe story. Because th e subject continuall y upholds this choice by a sustained commitment to the social ord e r, shelhe can al
where he sees transg ression as th e sale path to enjoyment. As he puts it
wa ys rev isit ir and choose othe rwise. 25. Jacques Laca n , The Seminar ofJacques Lacan, Book XX: Encore, 197 2 -"1973, transo Brllce Fink (New York: Norton, 1998), 42. 26. Laean, Sem inal" XX, -p.
there, "We are, in fact, letl to the point w he re we accept tbe formula that without a transgression there is no acCl:SS to j ouissance, and, to return to Saint Paul, that that is precisely the function ofthe Law. Transgression in the airection ofjoulssance only tak cs place if it is supported b)' the opposi tional principIe, by th e forms of th e Law." Jacques Lacan, The Seminar of
Jacques Lacan, Book VIl: The Ethics of Psychoanalysis, 1959- 1960, transo Dennis Porter (New Yo rk: Norton , 1992), 177. The p roblem with this formul ation stem s from the external opposition that Lacan posits betwce n law and en joyment, as if onc could not enjoy one's obedience. By 1972, Lacan himself senses the problem with this for mulation of law ami enjoyment, which prompts him to begin his Seminar XX with a self-critiquc focused on Seminal' VIl, a work that he subse quently /inds rife with "stupidity." 5· In Stminar XX, Lacan conceives ofthe superego in terms ofthe command to enjoyo He says, "Nothing forces anyone to enjoy excc pt the superego .
2.
J.
The Integration of the Impossible Objeet in rhe Elephant Man
also lost in th e ada pted sc rcenpl ay r;1("(" lo 1\1, ill "i;¡rgt" ,II . who w wte Ordi ·
Th e Seminar o/Jacques Lacan, Rook XX: Encore, 1972- 1973, transo Bruce Fink (New York: N o rton, 1998),3. 6. William E . Hollada y and Stephen Wa tt conte nd tha t " Lynch not only thw:lrt, Tn:ves '~ dcsire to view M errick bUl a Iso (I cl ay~ satisfying the audi
nar)' PeopLe . T he ir sc ree npl ay fi,r T I/(: I ~'kl'/¡"rlr \/111/ w ~ I,. I',I~ I' d illlarge 11:11'1 on the accounr "fJ ohn Mt'rrick \ 1i¡.. \\, ,11 1 11 1,1' Ii', ,',klll l.. f'rl'vl's. d Il' d",
\'ay special gaze and rh"JI willd'lild ,.I,dl, lImenr ofthe pro mi.,!: . piqlli ng vi'-'we rs' intcres t in the
Lynch and th e film lost th e Osear race ro Robcrt Redford a nd lüs /irst ka ture /ilm, OrdiflOl)l People. Lyneh , ChristClpht:r .le.: Vm e, :ll1d E ric Bcrgrl"n
732
The superego is the imperative of jouissance--Enjoy!" Jacques Lacan,
NO
Ir s
;nu' \ , illlil.,r 'lIriosilY. The film Ihu' prfllTl ises
:1
Nons
733
spectacle" (William E . Holladay and Stephen \Vatt, "V iew ing rh e El ephant Man," PAiLA l04119H9}: 874)' This statcme nt does not go fa r e nough in its gr:.lsp of Lynch's strategy. Lynch does nor delay th e introduction of Mer rick's body in ord e r simply ro enhance our inte rest in seein g it; he uses rhe
of reali ty in th e Ursl place . A.:; a result, \Ve Glnnot cri ticize the falseness of fanta sy as if the re were a tme re:t lity ll nadorn ecl by il. 12. Ir
is nor enough ro say that no on e has apure relation to Me rrick, rhat
cve ryone-both within th e film and viewing it - feels at once kindly and
frlm's form to conSlruct this body JS an impossible object that we cannot
ab usivel y roward him . Pe rhaps every spee tator wOllld readi ly admit this
see. When we do later see it repeatc::dly, it is no longe r the body.
compromise position . But the specula tiv e id entity of K e ndal and ¡he night
7. ¡Jcques Lacan, The Fou/' Fundamenta l Concept.' of Psycho-Analysis, trans o Alan Sh eridan (Ncw York: Nonon, 1978), 182. 8. The ini,tial encounter with M e rrick's body is an e ncoUnter w irh!he g aze in
sce lhe base wir hin the no ble and vice ve rsa rarh e r than seei ng them as in
Lacan's striet sense of the termo The ga zc, fo r Lacan, is not th e all -seeing
di srin ct.ly m eklin g into eaeh othcr. In short, one must see on eself in ever y
look of a subjeet that masters or controls all that it secs, as the infamous
evil that one condemns.
"male ga ze" has becn tnought to do. Insteau, the gaze indicates th e view ing subj ect's failure of master)', the mom e nt at which the subject encoun
13. In the Phel7omen% gy of Spirit, H egel call s the compassi ona te subject the bea uri ful soul. Acco rd ing to H egel, what rhe bea utiful so ul fa ils to recog
ters an object in ¡he visual freid that testifi es ro the subject's involvem e nt in
ni ze abollt itself is that it belongs
that fi eld through hc[/ hi s desire. Encountering the gaze, rhe subject ccases
Therc is no conde mnati o n that comes e ntirel y from th e outside. Th e beau
ro ha ve a sense of safe distance from whar sheihe sees and the se nse of in vulnerability that comes from distanc IO. 9. The two wa ys that Ñlerrick appears in the film-as in J ccessible objecr and
lO
rhe vicious world th at it eooJ emns.
ti fu l soul d oes act, tho ug h its ac ti oll takes t he form of l-light. Hegel cl a im s,
"It li ves in dread
orbe.~ mirc hing
the sp lendour of its inne r being by acti o n
an d an existe nce; a nd, in arder ro prese rve Lhe pu r ity 01' ¡es hea rt, it Aees
rerm s, he is not das Ding, the Thing emhod ying th e ultima re en joym ent.
from contact with the actua l wo rl d .'· G. W. F Hegel, The PhetlOmen%gy of Spirit , transo A. V. M iller (O xfo rd: O xford ur, 1977),4°0. 14· ¡aeq ues Lacall, "Le Sémina irc XIV: La logic¡ue cl u fanta sme, 1966- 1. 967," un pu blished ma nu seript, sessi on of ¡ a nu a ry 1 1 , .1967 (m)' translati on ). 15. T/u: Elephant Man s hows u s th a l both castrG ti on an d the fantasrn.lric reso
The sublim e Thi ng is an ioescapable presence in !he visual field , w h erea s
lutio n of ir re q u ire so me fo rm of sacrifice . We turn to fan tas)' thinking that
th e obj et petit a is a cons tiruti ve absence that cannor be reduced
it provides a way of t' luding a necessa ry sacriFi cc, bu r rhe n its logic lead s us
as oruinary object assimilated into the visual ficld - suggcst t ha t he d nes not function as a figure of th e sublime, rhough this is w ha l we m ig ht c x pect g iven his extre me disfi g uren,ent. For Lynch, unlik e a sublim e figur e , M e rrick does not ,halter the field of rep resenta ri o n. To put ir in Lacan's
LO
th e vlsual
fi eld without bccoming an ordin ary object.. F o r a contrasting readin g nf
ineluctably towa rd ano t he r sacrifiee- the sacrifice of all pathologi cal con
Merrick as th e sublime Thi ng , , ee Slavo j Z ize k , E7JjOY Your Symptom !
cerns for the sa ke of our enjoymc n t.
Jacques Lacan in H ollywood and 0
/1/
(New Yo rk: Ro utl edge, [99 2 ) .
l a. H olladay and Wa tt, "Viewing the Ele phan t Ma n ," tl75 · 1 I. Fo r Ma rth a Nochimsom, th e fi lm is simply a cond e mn ati o n of this fantas y
16. ¡ames R. Kelle r, " 'Like t.o a C h.lOs' : Deformiry a nd De p ravity in C onte m pora ry Film," / aun/aLofPopular Film and Television 23· 1 (1995): 9.
[7. U ne can cas ily irn;lg ine a F o uea u ltian cri tique of lhe Film th a l attacks the
for the d estructivt: <::frect th at it has on "Me rric k 's tenuous grasp on reality"
reduction of Mc rri ck '~ diffC re nee to the te rr8in of tbe normal. Lynch cre
(Nochimso n, Pa,.,-iol1 ofDavid Lynch, 143)' All the characte rs who co n t rih
ates an imagc o f normal subj ectivity from which no one ese8 pcs. While
ute to this fa ntasy are, in N och imson 's vie w, jusl as guilt y as Bytes himself
this is und o ubtedl y t he case, the fundamental (HegeJi
for e xploiting an d using Merrick. M errick falls victim to the se characters
fi lm is thal th e re is, in th e last instance, no diffe rence hetwee n identity an d
and the fantas y th ey purve y beca use he suffe rs from fals e conscio usness. As
d iffe rence. Thus, insisting on differe nce is a disguised way of insisting on
Nochimson d esc ribes it, "suffocated by swe etness, Me rrick does not even know enough abollt th is form o f abuse to protest it" ( Pass/oll of David LYllch, 143)' The problem w ith rhis st;¡n,brd 1':11,,, c(\nscio usncss thesis is
23'
porter- of Treves ,lIld Bytes -m ea ns that one mus t see th e fund ¡l mental lin k between the nobl est attitud e towa rd Merrick and the basest. One must
identity.
r R. In Th e E lephant Man ,lfld dsewhe re. Lynch shows hims elf to be one of the great a nt i- Delcu zca n fil mrnak ers. D e lcLi zc in veighs ag ainst the rcduction
ano agai nst rhe: ;¡tre m pt to
thar it fails ro ack nowlcdge the ro'" that rllll,l ~y pl i l y~ ill ~lrucruring o ur
DI' dil 'i'LTcn,," 1(> S3me ness
very scnse ofreali ty. F antasy " "es 111)1 "> lI l1 plv 1111'1 11 \1111\ Iv IUlJsc n p u r g rip
idc nt it y ill ¡fifl ncnce . A s he dc,cr i bt' ~ h is prll j(' cl, "We pro pose ro think
on realiry lh rllugh irs indun:lIl1'lIt' 1" " 111 "\ IH II 11 "llId l l' ,r ( ; l tl' ()lIrSe n~c
ditli p ·lh'L' ¡I, i l""lllI ldependen ll y Ilr rl l c·
N O I rs
see :\11 underlying
I~1I11l,.d (I'I' r"sclllali on w b ich re-
NOHS
13~
duce it to the Same. " Gil1es Deleuzc, Difference cmd Re-petitioll, tran.s. Paul
Lynch transfo rm s the tri nnp,ll l."
Patton (Ne w Yo rk: Columbia UP, 1994), xix.
H oll ywood coupl ing :In
I lI m a ll Ce
o f lhe novel for th e stand ard
view this aS:1compromisc 1111 l.) IIdú part, \Ve should sce how he uses it to em ph asi ze the o vc rcrll lli ll ~ "," :1I11 agon ism.
3. Dune ond the Poth to So lvotion 1.
9. The stabili 7.ing effl.:c t nI" mil" vl)ice-ove r na rration beco m es clear wh e n
The une voice w ho clearly brea ks frum the preva ilin g critical view of Dun c
one " iews the th l.:
is Slavoj Zizek , who, in a sur vc y conducted b y Sight and Saund, place s the
alongsid e th e dircclOr\ nll. S<.:QtL rcmoves me vo ice -ove r narration in the
film- a mi no other Lynch film--on his top ten li st of rhe greatest achi eve
directo r\ cut prec isd y in t¡rd c r to und er m in e m e stabl e position of th e
ments in th e histo ry of cin e ma. Thoug h many of lhe 253 eriLies, theorists,
spectator th a r rhe l \t eal ri ca l vcrs io n su ppo rts.
and filmmakers pol1ed list Lynch films , no one cisc includ es Dunc among 2.
the best ten films eve r made. Erica Shee n, "Going into Strange vVorl ds : Da vid Lynch, Dune, and N ew
10. O ne migh t a rgu c l hat Ly nclú subvcrsion of th e m aste ry typica ll y associ ated with voicc-ovcr na rrarian has ti es to cin ema 's histo rically patriarchal attitude tow
Hollywood," in Erica Sheen and Annen e Davisun, eds., The Cinema af
mines m e a utho ri ty o f the fc rn a le voicc-ove r ra Lher than the voice-O\'e r as
David Lynch: Americall Dreams, Nightmare Visions (Londo n: Wallflow er,
such. But the p robll:rn w ith this purpo rtcd ly fem i.nist critigue is its own
2004)>35. 3. Sheen , "Going into Stran ge World s," 36. 4. Chris Rodley, ed, L ynch on Lynch (London: Fabe r and Faber, 1997), 119·
(patrinrchal) in vcstme nt in the illusory a uthority of the voice-over. The sta bility tilat the voice-over p rov ides for the speclato r is always false: it ob scures the gaps lhat ha u nt eve ry narra ti vc struclure a nd thus w o rk s to
5. David Bordwell, Nanatian in ,he Fictioll Film (Madison: U of Wiscon sin P,
dupe the s pcc tato r coDce rning the truth ofthe na rrati ve . The ev iclent ga ps
1985), 157 6. For L am n , th e sex ual antagonisOl (wh ich has nothing to do wirh bi ology)
r 1. Sla vo j Ziick , "The L a melb of D avid Ly oc h," in Ric hard F eldstcin , Bruce
is the prim a ry socia l a ntagonism becausc il rnanifesls the twO opposed,
Fi nk, a nd Maire Jaan us, eds., Reading Seminal" X I: Lacan s Four Fundamen
in 1rul an's voice-over tesú fy abo\'e a1l LO its truthfulness.
though noncomp\c;:m entary, modes of e nte ring into lan gu age . Onc comes
tal COllceptsofPsychoanaLysis (A lbany: State U ofNew York p. 1995), 209.
into langu age e im e r as aman or as a woma n, a no onc:'s sexed being attests
12. Michel Ch ion , David Lynch. transo Robe rt Ju li(ln (London : BFI. 1995),70.
to one's lack of comple ten ess. B llt rhese tw o lac king beí ngs ca nn o r come
13. Thc w cirdi ng m od ul e th at Pau l gives to th e F rem e n ro aid in lhcir revo lu
rogether to form a harm o n io u~ one. AlI other soci al antago n.isms c1ass, race, etc.-fo llow fro m this fund am ental di sjun cti o n betwcc n the
wcapon uses th e so u lld created by a thought. As Pau l d escribes it, "Som e lhoug hls have a cerrai n sound , tha l bcing equiv alent to a formo Through
sexes.
7. Typicalty, tbe c1assica l Ho ll ywood narrati ve focu ses on particular instances of the sexual and socia l ant~l goni s m s rathe r than o n these an tagoni sms as such . But in th e ac t of show ing the possi bil ity of ove rcom ing particular in
so und and m otion , you w ill be a ble ro pa ra lyze ne rvc:s, shattcr bones, set fir es, suffocate an enemy, o r burst his organs,"
14· When the E m pero r (José Fe rrc:r) de risi vely re fers to the Baron as a "flying
stances of them, the narr at ives imply th ar antagonism-a constitutive split
fat m a n," thi s indicates th a t others in the film find his Aying offe nsi ve, and
ofthe socia l o rd er- is nothing but a problern to be addresscd within this order, Ilot a divi sio n th at un d ermines its very co he re nce. T his is tb e pri
15· The mos t te ll ing aspect of life of Giedi P r im e is th e existc nee of th e hea rt
mary ideol ogical function of H oll ywood cinema. F o r instance, filrns often
plug. The heart plug, installed in eve ry citizcn of the Harkonne n society,
lhey do so beca usc it aclS as a public d is pla y ofhis private enjoyment.
emphasize how c1ass antagon ism ca n be ove rcom e through a rel ationship
suggests the proxi mity betwee n in side and outside. With one tug, al! of a
bet\Vecn people from opposed c1 ass es, as we see in lhe conclusinn of a film
suelde n th e ins id e of o ne's bod)' wi ll fush out.
lik e F ra nk Capra'~ Jt Happened Olle N ight ( 1914)· 8. Cha ni 's status in the film, in contrast to he r ~ tal llS in P r:tnk Hcr bcrt's novel, und e rlin es L ynch's com m itmcnt ro th e ,· Ias ~ i( al I IClll ywllod narrnt ive p:11
136
ti o n al so pa rta kes of the fillHasmatic collapse of interna l a nd extern a\. T he
16. O rd inar ily, u nli kc Ba ron Harko n ne n, we g uard ca refully the private sta tus of our fan tasies so tha t no one else wi ll sce us enj oying. To become visi ble in I he :le l of cn joying onesel f is to be,om e v ulne ra ble. Thi s is not a
tc rn in DUl1e. In th e novel . C haJli i ~;¡ CClIII " Iu n, IIlId 1',11.1 n "l rril'~ P r incl'~~
p robln n
[rula n rathe r rh:tn he r. By di lllin,IIIII ¡'. \ ' "ti
w hL" 11"
MO TI '
1,111 1"" ,,11 11 ' w il h l rlll ,lll,
1"111
\11 tl TC
dll [laron, howeve r, I,lIl1 il~rnJlic worl cl
\¡1.:¡;¡¡ lISC
cn jnymcn t prolife ra tes eve ry
or !JUIlt' . Nons
23
17. The only place in Dune wherc prohibition seems lO cxist is on Caladan, w here en joyment appears rdativdy contained within stable social relalions . 18. Jacques Lacan, Tile Seminal" ofjaeques Lacan, Book VJJ: The Fthics of Psy choanalysis, 1959- 1960, transo Dennis Porter (Ne w York: Nnrton, 199 2), 71. 19. In Civilizu úolI
5· C. K en neth P ellow, "/U(/(,
l 'r'I N'1 (
hlfe Mo re," Litl!raturd Film Quarteriy
16.2 ( 1988): 173. Though (1..!l lIw\ IlI .ICk focuses on the film's n ar rative in consisrencies, it is cIcar rr, '111 1"" C'~;¡y tha t rhe m oti vation for the attack lies elsewhcre. Though 1... ( 1.Ii Ill\ L1td l u1is is not h is reason for disliking the film, he oocs note, "Th, 1"111 í~ obscene, it does shock and disturb and re
illld
lts DÚC011lellts, Freud ties the occanic feeling ro fantasy:
h e c1aims, "we are perfccdy willing to acknowkdge rhat the 'ocea nic' feel
volt almost any \.. i e \\' (~ r, .111.1 il d ücs wan t to posit a view ofhumankind ,t hat most ofhumankind ( k~ il c" lI) rep roba te" (ibid.).
ing exists in many people, and we are inclined to tr ace it back to an eady
6. Pellow, "BIt/e Vdll('( ( )II CL' M\I rc," ! 74.
phase of ego-feeling." Sigmund Freud, Civilizaúon and !ts Discolltellls (193 0 ), trans oJames Strachey, in SE, vol. 21 (London: Hogarth Press, 1961 ),
7. Slavoj Zizek. "' 1 IIt'ar YIII I widl My Eyes'; Or, the In vis ible Master," in
72· 20. Jacques L acan, TheSem inar uffacques Laaw, Book XX : Encore, /97 2 - 1 973, t ra nso Eruce Fink (N e w York: Norton, 199 8),74, 21. This
is why Lacan ide ntifies mysticism with feminine en joyment. Mysti
Renata Salee! ;11111 S\;"" 'I i iil:k, ccls., Gaze and Voice as Luve Objects (Du r ham: Duke UP, 1(JI)6) , 116 (Zizck's e mphasis).
8. D av id C r on e n ber~\ masl L: rful A HistolY ofViu /ence (2005) is very similar to BIt/e Ve/vet in its SlrUClllre. lt d ep icts a fantasmaric small American town and a violc nt und e rside rha t rhrearens its idyllic spacc. Bur Cronenbcrg's
cism , like fcminine enjoyment, a llows subj ects to transcend th ei r own fi
aim is quite diffác nl l h;¡ n Lynch's: rarhe r than showing th e parallcl be
nite subj ectivity and access rhe infinite directly. Lacan does not make this
tween the oream worl d a nd the oigh tma rish undcrsioe, he wants t.o rcvea l
comparison in orde r ro impugn mysticisrn, to bring ir down to the leve! of
how [he dream world rc lics o n the violence ofthc oightmare-specificJlly
feminin e enjoymc nt, but, on the contrary, to d eva te femini nc enjoymcnt
ro the le vd of mysticism- an au [hentic connection with the infinite.
the I'iolcnt
4. Fantasizing the Father in Blue Velvet
m e n ha ve th e p ri vileged position. S he says , "Tnc d ream at the ceoter of the
1. Eetsy Berry, " F o rcve r, in My D ream s: G e nc ric Con ven tions and the Sub
OI1C
of total possession of the mother. But hc re, as e lsewh e re in ma le
ve rsi ve Im ag ination in Bit/e Ve/vet," Literature/Fi/m Quarterly 16.2 (19 8H ):
popular cul LUre, th e emotional intensity of th e fi lm see rns less focused on
ib.
women, or on rh e relatio n ship betwee n wom en a nd rn en, t ha n on men and
2. Laura Mul vcy, Feúshúm and Curiosity (London: EFI, 1996 ), 151. 3. Slavoj Z izek , Th e Art of the Ridicu/ous Sublime: On David Lynch 's "Lost
their re lat ions w it h eac h othcr." Ly nn e L aytoo , Wh o's That Girl? Who's Tlzat Boy?: C/inical Practice Mcets Postmodern Gender Thcory (N orthvale, N.J.: Jason Aron son, 1998), 149.
Highway" (S cattl e: U of Washing ton P, 2000),45· 4. F o r Fred Pfcil, the ideali zed nature of the film's images (especially those in
While it is cer rainly true that t he men in the film el' ince more emotions
the opc.n i ng seque nce) force the spectaror into a "recognition and admis
than Dorothy, it is n ot the case that their c motio ns are lhus the central fo
sion o f the obviolJ~ artifice" that accompanies th e "iewing expe ri e nce (Fred
cus of th e film. D orothy is the character whose ce ntral a ffect-anxiety
Pfeil, "Homc F ires Burni ng: Family N o ir in B/ue Ve/vet a nd Terminat01'
perm ea tes among both the other characters and amo ng spectators. Doro
2," in Joan Copjec, eJ., Shades ofNolr [New York : Ve rso, 1993], 237)' As a
thy's anxicty is more powcrful than th e se ries of emotions that Jeffn:y and
result, one can recogn izc th e falsit)' of social con"cntion and eve n of o ne's
Frank display, and it defines the film.
own desire. Th e film leads to the insi gh t that " what mosr of us consicler our decpest and strongcst desires are not our own" (ibid ., 2.38). This read
10. Fredric
Jameso n, "Nostalgia for the Present," in Postmodemism; Or, the
Logic ofLate Capita/ism (Durham: Duke UP, 1Y9 1),294· J ameson cr iticizes
ing of the film focuses on the deceptiv e dimen sion of fantasy (a.nd how
th e film for ¡rs depiction of the American small town as a bulwark under
Rlue Ve/vet brings this dccepti on to light), but
siege fr om a t hrea tc ned narure. The problem, for j am eso n, is not so much
It
' Ivcr looks fan tasy's re"ela
tory powe r. Rath e r than exploring lh\: n 'vdall ' '' I'' l I.al I.lntt1~y pro"idc~ ,
Bltu: Ve/vet bccom es,
ror Pre i!,;1 w arnilll: .tI""11 11 " " 11I~~f'
promores spcctatnr disraIl cL' ill~I l' . 1I1 co l 'U Il .II.·.. 11 1 ,1
2~ ~
film is
NO) f
The fi lm t hus
that L ynch belicvcs in th e idea l of rhe srnall ro w n but rhat he cannot suc cessflllly il11a g inc an olltside. Thc ,ml y oursid c i ~ the blind horror of 11:1 11 IIl'
Nnll f.
'39
[[. Though the Law of the Father, fur Lacan , pro vides lhe prohibition that
son Donn y to calm hirn cl u wn, Scc Ma rcia Smilh Ma rzce, "flluc' Velvet as
inaugura tes ¡he suhj ect's des ire, we should not con fu se Tom Beaumont
Psyc homachi a," j oumal ()fEL'Oltlttonary Psychology 15.1-2 ( IY94) : 87-92. T he popll larity uf Blue Ve/vel
with this strucrural function. i\ny actual father w h o atte mpts ro tak e up ¡hé position ofrhe Law o frhe Father will fal! shorL, but Ly nch's film gives
23·
from rhe charilcre r of F I':t nk Booth. Devotecs ofthc film quote hi s lines-
no indica ti on thar Jeffrey 's father even tries. 12. D av id Lynch, Ly17Ch on Lynch, ed. Chris Rud1cy (London: F abee a nd Faber,
"Heineken? Fuck th al shiLl Pabst S lue Ribbo n !" or "Don't )'ou fuck ing
1977), T3 ó. 13. Janet L. Presron, " D antean Image ry in Blue Velvet," L itemtul'e/Film Quar
as Hitch cock insists, tb ar t he vi lIain ma k cs the fi lm , but it alsu shows ¡hat Frank 's presence in [he fi lm provicies pleasure rather than fc:tr. Frank
look at me!"-rathcr rha n rhose o fJ effre y or evcn Dorothy. This indicates,
plc:tscs LIS nOl Ieast of all beca use he offers us a humo rous rclicf from D o ruthy.
terl)' 18.3 (1990): 169.
14. Lynch often lights hi s film s leaving spaces of Jark ness w ithin the image in order ro convey rhe abse nce ¡hat characterizes a wodd of desire. The tech
24· Most fa n ras i ~s distan the ob¡eet th roug h rh e age nc y of th e f~l thc r, w ho de
nique becomc:s most pronounccJ, as we 'lI sec, in Lost H ighUJ(¡Y (1997)·
m ands tha t th.is object fil smoothl y within the famasy structurc. This is es
[5. Nlichel Chion, David Lynch, transo Roben Julian (London : BFI, 1995), 94 · Chion adds rhat rh e fa ntasy here is nut confincJ ro rhe cha racte r of Jeffrey.
peeiaJly visible in the filrns ofSteven Spielbe rg. Injul'ussic PQ. /'k (J99.~) , for in sra nec, the pate rn a] figu re A lan Grant (Sam Neill) domesticates th e
Even Frank Booch , seem ingl)' a character in Jeffrcy's fant asy, is cnactin g a
trauma of th e enco unrer wirh rh e dinosaurs-and their des ire-rhro ugh
fantasy scenari ofor himscifin o rd er to make sensc of Doroth)" s cicsire.
his kn owleoge and courage. H e m akes th e enco unte r bearable an cl at times pleas urable for rhe orher characters in the fi lm and rb e specra tor. As long
[6. Berry, "Furever, in My Dreams," 84. r 7. Sam Ishii-Go nza les, " Mysteries of L ove: Lynch's Blue VclvctlF reuJ's Wol f Man," in Frica Shec n and Ann ene Davison, eds., The Cinema of f)avid Lynch: American Dreams, Nightmal'e Visioll,; (London: \VaJlAowcr Press,
as the falher remains the central figure in the fant asy, the impossihle objec t never appea rs in ¡ts act u.,1 crauma tic fo rmo Bu t Bluc Vclvet shows us what happens w hen the father is absen¡ ano th e objecl appea rs. rn th is case, the ernergence of rhe object creates a r ifl with in t11e fa n tasy and expo~es the desi re of the subject.
200 4),
52 . 18. Jacques-Alain Miller, "On Sembla nces in che Rclation Between thé Scxcs," in Renata Salccl, ed ., Sexuation (D urham: Duke UP, 2000),
25· Jaeq ues Lacan. The Four Funda mellfal Conc.epts of Psycho-Analysis, transo
22.
A lan Sh eri dan (New Yo rk: No rte n , 1978), 105 (Lacan's ernph'lsis).
19. C hion, David Lynch, 94. My anal)'sis of Doroth)' and rhe film as a whole owes a great debt ro C hion, w ho
W3 S the
fi rst ro see the imporra nce of Do r
othy 's desire for \-" hat occurs in th e film. Tr is difficult ro imagine a nothcr intcrprere r of the fi lm cver surpassing the o riginalit)' of C hion's insighl!>. 20. C hion, Da vid
Ly'flch, 95 · "On Sem bla nces in the ReIation Betwee n rh e Sexe~, " 17· Whcn L ind a Bundtzen claims rh at "Lync h has e rec ted a film rh al ulti
5· The Absence of Desire in WHd at Hearl l.
21. Millcr, 22.
mately . privil eges the m ate rnal ove r the paternal" (Linda K . Bun d tzen, "'Don't look at m e !': Woman's Body, Woman's Voice in B/ue Velvet ,"
2.
Westem H umanities Review 42.3 r1998]: 201), she righ tly sees th at D o rothv is the central figur e around whichBLue Velvet revo lves, but she too quickly associates Dororh y with ma tern ity. Mate rn il)' is nor a position th at Doro· thy inhabits; it m ar ks fo r her, as th e iJea oF her as a mother clocs for othe r' in the fil m . a rer rea t from the trauma of hu desir e ror nothing . T hat tite role of m orh er is
¡¡
fantasmatic position DOfll l!t y ad" pts beeomes clcal'
when we reeog ni ze, as Marcia Sm ith Mar!.,·" I'''¡t lt ' same words wi lh Fran.k- "Momllly I" v, "
1-10
N OTES
V'II' "
111' (,
dut ~ h t;
US C$
th,'
11 ,.11 ,1,1.: lI ~"S wir h hn
These are just a few of lhe allllsions rll at ¡he film makes ro Th e Wiza rd of
Oz. Dav id H ughes co u nrs no fewe r th an thirree n. Scc David H ughes, The CompLete Lynch (Lo nd on: Vi rg in, 2001), 146-47. The stru crure of Wild al Heart is cIosest ro dlat of Dtme (1984): in both fil ms, we vvi tness en jo)'me nt proliferating throughou¡ the fi lmic wo rld . But whereas Dune sbows a wo rld of desire menaced by proliFerati ng en joymen t, this w orld exists in Wild at H eart onl )' as a present abse nce. This allows the latte r fil m to se rve, in a wa y Dune does not, as a commenta r)' on rhe conlemporar)' abund ance of irnages of e njo)'mcnL.
3· Jeff Johnson, Pervel't il/ the Pu/pit: MoraLlty in the WOl'ks ofDavid Lynch (Jef ferso n, N.e. : MacFarland , 2004), 1° 4. 4·
Thc c Xct; ~s ive form ofWild ar H eort bc;lrs:l n lIl timatel)' misleaJ ing rese ll1 blancc.:
1, ( t har
of Oli vc r Stonc's Nlltu/{/ / n llm Killc.:ri ( 1994). Thoug h horh
tl r Ji rs
~ .I I
film s cri(icize the contcmporary prolifcration uf oren displays of enjoy
reaction (the brutality of th e murd c r) ::md his subsequent posing (and look
ment, they do so from opposi(e directions. For St(.me, the intrusiom of pri
ing at Marietta). Th ese actions indicate: the extent ro which Sailor is acting
vate enjoyment on puhlic space result from too much Ltl1tas y, too much
o ut hi s pri va te drama. It is fr o m thi s perspective that Lemon is especially
engagement w ith media representations; for Lynch . th e intrusion s s(em
(hrea tcning as a black man a nd thar J\-la ri n ta controls everything.
from a failure ro commit fully to fantasy a nd ro follow m e logic of famasy
16. D~\vid Lynch, Lynch on Lynch , cd. C hris Rodley (London: F a ber and Faber,
far enough. In this sense, any atternpt ro sec the two films as part of a simi
1977), 194 l7 . Lynch. Lynch on Lynch, 205 .
lar cinematic project would be inapt. 5. Mich;:¡el Dunne notices that excess charactcrizes the Ianguage in th e film as
18 . Both Sailor and Lula are instructi \lc fo r what they indicate about the ap
well. Not only do the characters us e profanity excessivcly, hut they also of
pearance oflawlcssness an d fr eedom. Ir is always te mpting to sce a hsolute
ten spea k in ways that transcend th eir typical modes of speech . This type of speec h, according ro Dunne, "serves ro signal its nature as lan guage
frcedom in th e Wan ton violence of th e cri minal or th e open sex uality of the libe rtin e, hut one m ust inte rpret these g ui ses. Thc examples of S ~l ilor and
more than as an e1ement of chara((er" (Michael Dunn e, " Wíld at Heart
Lula sho w how the appca ran ce of freedom is not eq ual to frecdom but ro
Three Ways: Gifford, Lynch, and Bakhtin," Litaatu7'el Film Quarterly 23.1
its opposite. Because th e subj ect has to cx prcss itself through ,( he signifier, it can not simply be identical to itself. T he signifier transform s appea rances
[1995J: 10). A s a result, language itselfbecomes conspicuous as an excess. 6. Jana Evans Braziel, "'In Dreams ... ': Gender, Sexuality, and Violence in the Cinema of David Lynch," in Erica Sh ee n and Annette Daviso n, eds.,
The Cinema ofDavid Lynch: American D¡'eams, Nightmare Visio1lJ (London:
ineo their oppositcs, so that necessity appears as frecdom and fr ccdom ap pea rs as neCl:ssi ty. The subj cct becom es freest at th c point wherc it recog nizes m e extent to w hich it is caught wilhin the web of ne,cssity.
W allAower, 2004), 114. 7. For a complete
19. Joa n Co pjec, Imagine Th ere's No Woman: F,thlcs and Sublimaúo/1 (Cam
The Plague ofFantaúes (N ew York : Ve rso, 1997), 185-1)9. 8. For a discussion of this change in th e status of authority, see Tod d Mc Gowan , The End of Dis.~at új;lCtiO!1? jacques Lacan and the F;merging Societv
20. Jaequ es Lacan. L e Sém llla ire, livre V' Les Formations de l'inCOllsáent, 1957
hri dge: MTT Prcss, 2002), 167 (Co pjec's em pha sis). 1958, ed. Jacques-A lain Mjll e r (P;lri.s: Seu il, [998),286 (m y translation). 21. Wild
at H eart has maoy more tan ge ntial Illoments th an th e typical Lynch of F,lljoyment (Al hany : State U of New York P,2004)' film , bur in each ca se rh ese mo m ents, thou g h tange ntial to the narrati vc, ot 9. Michd Chion,David Lynch , tr anso Roben Juhan (London: BFI , 1995), 140. wi lh in the fi lm the m aticall y. rn fact, th e lack of narrati ve cohe re nce in a 10. K e nne lh C. Kaleta, David Lynch (New York: T way ne, 199j), 16C>. wo rld filled w ith pu bli c displ a ys of enjoyment is (he film's central idea. 11. Martha P. Nochimson, Th e Pass/O/l ofDavid L ynch : Wild at Heart in Holly 22. It might seem as ir Jingle Dell is one cha racter in the film who in sists fully wood (Austin: U ofTexas P, 1997),55. 12. Sharon Willis, High Contrast: Race and GC11der in Contemporary Hollywood
on hi s fanta sy eve n to m e point w here it no longer provid es pleas ur e. But
Film (Durham: Duke UP, 1997·), 143. 13. Anne tte Davison, '''Up in F lames ': Love, Control, and Collaboration in the Soundtrack ro Wild at H eart ," in Sheen a nd Daviso n, eds., The Cinema
Fantasy produces enj oyme nt by narra ting the loss of th e impossible object and promising access to it, but its st ruc ture is predicated on the initialloss
ofDavidLyn ch,12!. 14. Davison, '''Up in Flamcs,'" 12 1. 15. Sharon Willis sees this SCClle as the ultimale instance of Lynch 's racist anJ sexist filmic visiono She Iaments th at because "a white man is for ced ro kili the black male agent of'Mama 's' murderolls sexuallust ... th e brutal mur der of a black man hy a white man is surre ptitiollsly charged to th e white
242
Jin gle Dell's image of C h ri stmas lasting all yea r is not yct fantasy proper.
of th e object. This is what Jin gle Dell refuses, and (his refu sa l never allows the space fo r f:lO tasy ro d evelop. It is in this sense that he is the represcnta ti ve fig ure in the film . T he subsequcnt development of a perversion is a re spo nse ro a failure ro enjoy, no( an indica tion of a commitment to fantasy. 23. Lyneh, Lynch on Lynch, 198. 24, H ughes, Th e Complete David Lynch , 142. 25. Of course, nO one would say errat all th e threats in the conlemporary world
woman's account" (Willis, High Contrast, 118; Wi llis's ~mr h a~ i s ). T wo as pects ofthe scene botrre r Willis mosr: thal I ,n 11011 l' dl l ' u nl y bbck cha rac te r and that Mari ett¡¡ 's look control s ho,h l ,t ll l;" 1 11111 tI ,r \(t· o<.: itsd L 111
are (he result of a paranoid attitu de ehat pcrcei ves thrcats everywh e re.
her analysis, \Villis necessaril y "imilli ..l" \ d I( 111'1 ,,"1 ,' 1 1 ~r
uh i
NOTE S
.,1S; ,il"l \, .. vcr
Th e re are rea l th rea ts. But fo r thc Gub ject w ho is "truly wild at heart" or full y ,'fl ll ilnincJ to its fantasy, lhese , h rt";Lls n :as(; lO matte r and ccase to be
Ñon s
2~ '
26. Jaeques Lacan, Le Séminaire, livre XV!!: L 'Ell va.< de la psychallaly.<e, ed.
J;:¡cques-Alain rv!illcr (P;:¡ ris: Seuil, 1991),89 (m y tr;:¡ ns lation).
6. Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me and Identificatio n with the Object 1.
Beeause the sho\V fea tu red Laura and her m urde r as its st ructuring ab senee, th e netwo rk 's demand that Lyneh and eoerea tor M ark Fros t pro vide a soIutiün lO Laura's death mid way through the second sea son effec tivdy killed the show, aceording to Lyneh himself.
2.
Miehcl Chion,David Lynch, trans oRoben Juli;:¡n (London: BFI, I99'5), 155.
3. Chion, David Lynch , 156.
4- One should resist th e idea that the many roles Laura occupies tesrify to Lyneh's statu s as an ¡ronic ar postm ode rn filmm a ker who se es identity as variable and construeted. The point is not rh;lt La ur a's ide ntity is multiple but th at none of th ese rol es capture her. Her identity eannot find adequate expression beca us e th ere is norhing to express. 5. Surcly one of the main rcaso ns for the popular failur e of the: film rcsts in the way that th e fi lm trca ts fans of the series. By sustaining L:lU ra as an ab senee, the se ries enco urages viewe rs to fantasize without restraint abollt Laura , bur the fi lm explodes these famasies by eo nfron ti ng viewe rs with rb e p rescnee of th e famasy, forcing viewers to abandon thcir fo rm er ideas about Laura. Tbe trauma for vie we rs is sometning a kin to that whieh ac companies seeing radio personalities for the first time afte r a ¡¡fetime of just hearing their voiees. 6. W hereas L ync. h's oth er films confm nt the spectato r with rhe speeulati ve identity of th e soci al reality with its fantas maric altern ative, Fire Walk w ith Me depicts speeulative id entiry w ithin fanta sy itsd f, sh owing how the dit'-· ferenc e between our ideal fan tasies an d our nightrn a re fa ntas ies conceals an und erlying ide ntity. By düing so, the film forces th e spectator lO expe ri enee the b ck of an alternati ve w ithin the fantasmatic alternati ve. 7. On e famous exa mple is Jonathan De:mme's Silence ofthe Lam bs (1991), in whieh the discovery of each victim of th e serial killer BufLdo Bil! is aeeOffi panied by a eaption iden tifying rh e [ocation. 8. D avid Hug hes, T he Complete Lyllch (Lündon: Virgin, 200 1), 166. 9. Cate Racek , " Lacking La nguage in David Ly ueh's Twin Peaks: Fire WaLk lUith M e" (unpublished paper). 10. Jaeques Lacan , Thc! SeminarofJacques L acaTl , Book X X: Encore, 1972- 1973, transo Bruce Fink (New York: N o rton, l(}gR), 2.1. 11. Jeff Johnson , Pervert in the Pulpit: .Morality i ll ti/(· flfjr/¡I (~r/),/IIid Lynch (J ef ferson, N .C .: MaeFarland, 20()"¡). 117 12. Chion, Dat1id LYllch, 1'52.
2H
NO TI:~
13. Jaeques Lacan , "The Sigl1itication of rhe Pballu s," in Eerits: The First Com plete Edition in English, tra nso Bruce F ink (New Yo rk : N o rton, 2006), 581. For Laca n, th e phallus is not a body pa rt, not the penis, but a sig nifier. But it is not just any signifier: it occupies an exceptional positic)n among all signifiers-a position outsidc the signifYlOg field whcre mcaning derives früm how ~ ach signifier relates ro all other signifie rs. As a signi ncr o fexcep tion, the phallus clocs not depe nd on its relatio n lO any other significr, but this mea ns that it is a meaningless signifie r, a sig niher-wi thout-signifi ed that signifies nn ly itsd f. T hus, if one reproaehes Lacan for his phalloeen tri sm (fo r retaining the phallie sign ifie r at the eenter ("l f th e sy mbo!ie order), one m ust at the same time reeal! rhat th e phall us sta nd s out, according to Laca n's vision o fthings, for íts stupidiry and for its impotence. 14. When M rs. Tremo ncl's son ap pea rs afte r Lcla nd Aees from the motel where he sees Laura, we see him Ilot onl y weil rin g m e pha.llie mask but also jumping repeatedly as he walks in eireles, mimicking the nonse nsieal anel exeess ive acti vi ty m at che phaUu s u ses lO disgu ise its impotence. 1'5. Dian e H um e G eorge, "Lynching W om l: n: A F eminisr Reading of Twin Peakj·," in D a vid Lave ry. ed. , Fu ll ofSecrets: Crú ica¿ Approaches to "Twill Peak"''' (De tr oit: W ay ne Sra te UP, 1995), [[ 7-18. 1 6. Even if one insi sts (l n the su pernatura l sra tus of BOB, rhis in no way ren ders Leland free from all gu ilt. T hroug h lhe ehara cter of Laura (w ho neve r allow$ BO B to in habit he r compl etely), the fi lm ma k es ir clear that human sub jects huye the ca paci ry to resist BO B. 17. Fanr.asy does not just prov ide a signi fied for no nsc nsiea l te rm s li ke "gar m onho z ia. " O ne mighl say th at the signi fi ed itsel f is fan rasrnatic. T hough we tend to identify sig nitlers wirh a speeitic signi fied, rhey ac tuall y aeq uire th eir sig nifiGl tion through their in te rac tloll with oth cr signi fie rs- th roug h a system of differenee. T he fa ntasy of rh e sig ni fi ed allows LIS to treat eon ceprs a.nd rhi ngs as inde pe nde nt of the entire system rhat constirutes thern. 18. Jaeques Laean, T he Fuur Fundamental COllcepts of Psycho -Anal)lsis, transo Alan Sherid an (New Yor k: N o rton, 1978). 19. Laean, Four Fun damellla l Concepts, 20'5 . 20. Sl av o j Z ize k , T he Indivisible Remaillder: ,1n Rssay 011 Schelling cm d ReLatcd Matters (New York : Ve rso, 1996), 157 Clize k 's emphas is). 2 L Z iz ek, Indivisible Rema jnder, 158. 22. Se rge Andr':., What Does a Woman Want?, transo Susa n Fairheld (New York : The O the r Press. (999), 248 (André's emphas is,. 23. And ré, What DoeJ a Wnman Want?, 248. 24. C hio n. Dat'id Lynch. 15 2 . 25. 11 ~cc r", Ildd 10 s:ly th:'ll La u ra vicws n OIl O; , aS '·1 non ·-Iacking O the r \-vhen 1.;1 111.1 .d·." d í\lI,i ~sc s Donoa ", s 1I11 , ·r1 y II. I·¡" VC· g il! 1!1i" ~(· Iwo attiludes ;1fI; Nons
2.
r,
realit)' is m o lded by fant;Jsy.
nocence, a n innoce nce that would attest to the f8 ct that she is llot yet sub ject to castration.
by othe rs. This is w hy the other charactc rs in the film see a different pc rson
26. Lau ra Plumme r, .. 'I'm
110t
Laura Palm e r': D avid Ly nch's FractLlred F ai ry
('ven
~h;lpCS
not at all co nlrad ictor)' : fo r Laura , Donna can alloi ú laek Lh roug h he r in
the way one sees one's own
body-and he nce the way in w hi ch [hat bod y is presen ted ro and pe rceived w hc n F re d e nters into his own fantasy. 6. Jaegues Lacan, "Kant witb Sad e," in ÉC11tS: The Fint Com plete J:dition in
Tale," Literature/Film Quarterly 2) ·4 (1997): 309.
Ellglish, transo Bruce Fink (N ew York: Nortan , 2(06), 652- 53. 7. Ma rtha P. N ochimson, The Passioll ofDavid Lync/¡: Wild af Heart il1 Holly
7· Fi nding O urselves on a Lost Hig hway ,. A nno..: Je rslcv, "Beyo nd Boundari es: David L ync h's Los! Hig/¡way," in E ri ca Sheen and An nelle Davison , cds ., The Cinema of Da/lid Lynch : America n Dreams, Nightmare Visiolls (London: Wall Ao wer. 2004), '55 . 2. D avi d Foster Wallace, in his discussion of Lost Highway, consid ers this poss ibility: "th e mo vie 's plo t could ... simply be inco herent a nd make no r:ltional sensc and no t be conventionally inte rpre table ar all" (Dav id Foster W allace, A Supposedly FUIl Thillg nI Neva Do Again: rssays and Rumina ¡jon... (New York: Littl e, Brown, 1997], 160 ). According ro Wallace, this is not necelisa rily a problem with the film. As he says, "Lyn ch seerns ro run in w Lro ublc o nl y whe n his movies seem to the viewe r to want to have a poi nt-i.e., when th ey set the viewer up to ex pect so m e kind of co he re nt co n nection between plor eIemenrs- a nd the n fail ro de li ve r a ny sueh point" (ibid ., J61; W a lI ace'~ emphasis). 3· Th e nega tiv e critica l response ro L oo·t H ighway necessi ta ted w hat wilI probably be re me mbered as one of th e strangesr ad vcrtis ing cam pa ig n s in the hi sro ry o f fi lm adve rtising . P romotc rs of th c film used negali/le CO I11 m en ts fro m pop ubr c rities ("two thumbs clow n ") in thcif aú v~' rt i sem e n ~, in an effo rt ro u'a mform th e fil m 's lack of aeeep tanee amo ng po pu la r cri c ics inro a reason for seeing ir. T he fa et th at such ad ve rt iscmcnts appea red onl y a m On(h after Lo._t H ighway opened suggests that they we re not p<1rt of a preeonceived advertising stra tegy, bur a respo nse to a lu kewa rm a nd cven hostile crirical- a nd popular- reception. 4· Lync h's use of two acto rs play ing th e sam e role work s to diffcre nt e nds than Buñuel's in That Obo"Cure ObJect ofDes/re (1977). By having d iffere n( aC lresscs play ing the s:l me character, Buñuel ernph as izcs rhe ul timately in effable guali ry of th e object of d esire, our inabili ty ro g ras p it dc fi nitivcly, rather than a sharp distin etion be twee n desire and f~lI1ta sy . 5· The obvio Ll s questi on here is "if Peter D ayran is comtru creu as
J
pa rt of
Fred Madison's fant;:¡ sy, th en w hy can everyo ne e b e see hirn ?" T he elL,y a nswer would be thar w hat follow s sil11ply (J("cllrs ",i,hill F rcd's fantas y un til th e seco nd transfo rm ario ll ne;:¡ r rh e <" lid ,,1 11.,. Idlll SlIdl:ln ;Jn swcr misses ,I think .Lynch 's insi g ht hece . 1..,, 11,11 r i\l·. 1 " ,1 .I.III I'''Y ;I ~Ct.'ll1i ll g fealiL)' in th e film ro c l11 p";"i zc 111l'
'.""
NOHS
"\Illt l
1" \\ Illill .. \11
'. \'
'1', LlV
\\: 11' "
ul"
wood (Austin: U ofTexas P, 1997), 2°9 (Noe himson 's emph as is). 8. This is wh y g iving in ro th e supercgo is a lways a no- w in siru<1tion. The more you gi ve, the more it wan ts. The supe rego is, in this sense, insatiable: no sacrifice of d esire is ever enough ro que nch irs thirst. One can see th is dynarni c of the supe rego is someone like Jo nathan Edwa rd s, w ho n ever ceases ll pb raidin g himself for the d epths of his sinfuln ess, eve n though ro rhe ollts ide observe r he is an exe rn pLa r of virtue an d pi ety. This is not ¡ust a rh etori cal Aourish on his parto Edw;:¡rds does fed more sin fui than th e ave rage person in sofar as he has g iven in ro th e supe rego more than the av e rage pe rso no 9. Sl avoj Z izek, The Metastases ofEnjoyment: Six Essays 0 11 Woman and Causa/ ity (New Yo rk: Verso, 1994),68 . 10. This is w h y Lacan insis ts rhar " la w a nd re pressed des irc
'3. Sig mun d F re ud, NCt/I Introductory Lectures
Psycho -Analysis (1933 ), trans oJa mes Strac hey, in SE, vo l. 22 (London: Hogarrh Press, 1964),62. 14. Freud , N ew Introductory Lectures, 62. Freud , Iik e Ly neh in Losr Hight/lay , gives this intern al izati o n a te mporal dim e nsio n rh at it d oesn 't ha ve to ma ke it clea.r stru cturally. As soon as one ente rS into the soc ial order and encounters t he law as an "external resttaint," the re is al ways a iread)' an in te ro a lizcd counte rpa rt ro mis c"-tc rnal Law, the supe rego. [5. W hirh i~ not ro say th a t me l!fec ti ng of the su pe rego could some how be av"id, ·" I1 i~ the neeessary arco m pa ni rn e nt " f 11m entrance imo the d o011
NorES
241
main of the social order ami the symholic law. Howeve r, in Lost Highway,
they !c:lve, Free! thanks th ero (th ou gh they have n't done anything), and one
the supcrego seems av oidablc beca use \Ve can sce its introjectian as part of
d etective responds, ." t's wh a t \Ve do." Clea rly, "what they Jo" is nothing
a pracess, rather than as something that has alwa y~ alread y occurred .
much, in contrast to Mr. Eddy, w ho cloes do th e only effective poliee work in
J6. Jaeques Lacan, The Four Fundamental C071ccpt:; of Psycho-Analysú, trJns.
the film (when he gil'es his warning about tail ga ting). Thc faet that;¡n un derworld figur e is the symbolic authoriry in Lost Highway is n-ot merely a
Alan Sheridan (New York: Nortun, 1978),275-76. 17. By quiekly pJssing aYer the trial and sentcneing, Lynch makes clear that the
eontingent aspect of the film, but one re!:lted to the historieal situ;¡tion in
stFength uf the external powers-that-be pale in comparison with the intra
which it appears. \Vhen the film ;,¡ppears, symbolic authority h:ls gane un
psychical voice of autharity. Unlikeex ternal authorities, the superego never
derground, as the status of "Legi timate" symbolie authorities- the poliee,
allows the subjeo a moment of respite, no time when it relaxes its power.
political Jead c rs , etc.- h>ls e roded . L ost l-lighwa)l is the attempt to depict
IS. Tim Lucas, "Kiss Me Doubly: Notes on David L)'nch's Lost Highway,"
ho\\' this mo vem e nt of symbolic authority unde rground exacerbates para
Video Watchdog 43 (1998): 31. J9. Reni Celeste, "Lost Highway: Unveiling Cinema's Yellow Brick Roao,"
noia abour the Othe r's excessi ve en joy m ent.
Cineaction 43 (Summer 1(97): 34·
Jacques-Alain Miller (Pa ris: Seuil, 2005), 19 (m y tr;¡nslation).
20. Though one might rcad (incorreetly, I think) Lost Highway as a critique uf
23. The nonse¡;¡sical voiee is a voiee of pllfe en joymem, beca use it is a voiee com
the turn to [antasy, it is certainly not a panegyric to "reality." Given the
pletel y strippcd of mea ning and mus resounds beyonó the confines of the
film's grasp of the fantasmatie hasis of reality, this would be incungruous.
symbolic ord er. The voice is what remains ofthe significr once mcaning is
This is the imprcssion, howev e r, that Marina Warner has uf the film:
subtr:lcted from it. The type of voice Pete r hears at Andy's furthers his per
"Lynch ... certainly mounts an attack on fiLm narrative's mcndacity, show
eeption of enjoyment in it. It is no coincidenee that Pc.:tcr Dayton, a fairly
ing oeep alarm at its hallucinatory powe rs of creating alternative realitiD
typic;¡1 white male Am e rican subject, would posit this enjoyment of the
document an.!
voi ce in the exotic anJ for e ign chants he hears u pon enre ring Andy's house.
Simultaneously, it Jlsu calls into question film 's ca pJcities
to
record: eve rything filmeJ is hbrication , but that fabrication has the tli, turbing powcr to supplant reality" (Marina Warner, "Voodoo Road," Si;!.1II
c\uded from it. Fred Ma dison :lIso has a similJr rebri on to this "exotic" en
and Sound 7.8 IA ug ust 1997]: 10; my emphasis). W ha l W a rne r missc.:s h( rt is that Lost HI~f5hwa)' is also a celehration of th e way in w h ich film ~1I1'
Th roug h his pl a ying , F red tri es tu ap proach th e en joyme.m o ft he Other
Pete r wants this e njoy men t for him sel f, and yet posits hilllselfculturally ex joym ent. which ex pla ins w h y he pla ys te nor s:J xophone in a j;¡zz ba ndo
plants realit)! bccause in doing so, as an cffect of this doubling, it provid, "
wh ich he has posited in jn z (and spec ifically in (he jaz z solo) and whieh he
access
feels hi m scl f excluded from. The night whcn he ca Ils home and Renee
to
an othenvise ohscured real.
21. Though he is cl early an obscene, p rim;¡1 father, Mr, Eddy nonetheless hll"
doesn't a nswe r, he feels this exclusion from enjoyment most poignant!y,
tions;¡s a symbolic ;¡uthority in th e film, echoing the rol e rhat Frank 111111111 plays i,n mue Velvet (1986). Thcrc is a mllltituJe of other ev idence to slIgW ', 1
;,¡nd so hc Jaun ehes into a wild solo, a tte mpting to ca pture in ,Ulother direc cio n, as it werc, the enjoyment he fecls he is missing w ith Ren ee .
1.11 1
24. T his picture enos up pro viding addi tio nal support for the idea tbat Alice
gating and then proceed s to lect u re h im on the dange r o f not m;¡intaiJ\II I}~ .1
is a fanlasy object: w he n, nea r the end of the film, the police look at othe
this: for instance, the scene in which he runs a 1T10torist offthe fOad
rOl
proper distance between C<1. rs. Afte r lecturing (and bea ting) the ma ll . ~ It Eddy demands, "Tell me yOll're going ro get;¡ manual." Though d c;¡ " ~ .'" llnderworld figure, Mr. Eddy functions here lik e a symbolic :lurb"III \,
111
picrure, lhey see onl y An dy, M r. Eddy, and Renee -not Alice.
2<;. Ly nch quotes himsclfhe re: as we saw, in b'raserhead (1977), Henry Speneer occas ions a simil ar brig ht flash whcn he tries to toueh his fantasy objeet,
extreme version of the police. The behavior of th e actual p"lice in !l it Id l"
the Radiator L ady. But the car he:ldlights shining directly into the camera
further reveals Mr. Eddy's status as symboli c autbority. Th e polic(', ""'11,,
in Los! Highway are even bri g h ter (han the vision of Henry 's union with
lvlr. Eddy, rarely display any of the charartcristi cs uf syrnholi, :11111 111111\ They are, instead, a parod y ofthal' allrhn ri l Y, A t IIne p,¡int, thr po ho confess their haplessness. \ Vh e ll
248
22. Jaques bcan, Le Séminaire, livre XXII!: Le Sinthome, 1975-1976, ed.
1W,)( k ' lt'C 1 i Vl'~
f
n.
11
( (1I11l' t o tll ~ M:ld i" '11 \ 1111111
Ihe Ra d i;l to r L a dy in E fclsel'head. " ',, Sl:t vnj
Zizck, TI/(: A,., oj' fh (' Ritilmlous Sublime: On David Lynch's "Lost
I /¡.~J¡W(/y " (:-;t:.;lttlc.:: U
•t o investigate the appearallcc ., r th l I'lOh"l.q ll ok¡;io till A !lll' ill,idr ..1 111
T lt l.· )('latio ll1 slti¡, hC!\V"!'1 1 M I " .I dy/ I )" k L lll re n t (me F,llhe r) and the
home, they show them ,el vl'~ to 1... 111' 11',lhl , ,,1 I h ~, n v" lIll g .llI ytlll llj;
r-"ty\ lny M:III (111<' 1','Pll""III;,II \'1 Id 1I1I '.III'( 1(')l: II\ ' ~ ITIlldc npparentattwo
NOl'fS
\
NOHS
2~ 9
differCllt point~ in the film. They -joindy makc a threate ni ng phonc eaH to
rath e r than, as wi th \.1 <"1"11.1 the image.
Pete r after he begins his rel ationship w ith Alice, a nd w hen F red Madison, at Andy's party, asks Andy the identity (Jf the M ystery Man, Andy teHs
7. In the figure of Alvin, '" l'
c1airns , "Desirc h;ls ;( 11
30. For Hegel, huth art and philosopb y ha ve a clear political task: they r"con
the limit, it is
1111 11 il it Y in rc Ia tion to e very sat isfactio n. It per
1.<)
Ihi, 11"11.1, ·,ir\" i, confined, no t so much in its deve loped
a nd mas ked ¡-urllls, III JI 111 il ' 1"lr(; :l nd si rn pIe to r m , il is the pain of exis t ing" (Ja cqucs Lacall, I.t SIIIIIIIIÚri", Livre V Les Formations de L'inconscient,
fundameotally radical rather than conservative. By recon ciling subjects to
1957- 1958, cd. Jat'qll" , ¡\I; lin Miller I Pa ris: Seuil. 1998], 338; my transla tion). Thc depi cli"n ,,( I h (" " pain of existing'· in the heginning of The Straight St()ry d c m;¡rl ," 1It:1[ [he ~pl:ct ~ to r confron t the fundamental dissat
the existing order, art and philosophy ex pose the \Vay in which all alterna tives exist in the here and no\\' rather than in a possiblc ur imaginary fu ture. They are implicit in the current order, already w ritten ioto it and
isfactiQn tha t is d t'si rc.
awaiting realizatiun, though they remain hidd en in the guise of possible
8. Much spccul;:nion :Irll (") n g Lynch fans centcrs on the quesuon of wh y th e true story of A h,in Str;l ight a ppea led to Lynch as a fi lm m a ke r, give n how littlc tl1e sto ry it:;el!" resem bks rl1¡1l of h is oth er films. E ut w ha t locates it
works to bring ir ro light.
firmly w irh in L ynch's uni ve rse is th e sec ming impossibi li ty of Al vin's achicvernenl. 9· Joe Kemher, '" David Lynch and th e M ug ShOI: F acework in The E Lephallt M rm an d The Struight Sto!")' ," in Sheen amI Dav iso n, eds., The Cinema of
[. Many L ynch fans regarded th e film as a snmt ra me r than as an integral th e anonymous rev iewc rs of this book , w ho admitted that she/ he e \·en
l ·'
mits us tO under,t;lIl" \\, 11.111 , 11 1w: nc rnl ilS profnu nd affinity w ith pain. At
cile subj ects to me cxisting order. Despite ho\\' th is sounds, such a task is
pan of Lynch's body of \Yurk. This was the sentiment expressed by one of
cxpcrie nce the suffcril1g that comes
the way in which "nil' 111 iI ,., pllre fo rm a ppea r:; . In Seminal" V, Lacan
nique, J()5.3- T954, transo John Forrester (N ew Yo rk : N o rton, 1988), lO2. 29. Jacgues Lacan, TheSeminar offacques Lacan, Book VII: The EthicsofPsycl1O anaLysis, 195t)-1960, transo Dennis Porter (N e w York : Norton, 199 2), 177·
R. The Ethics of Fantasizi ng in The 5traight 5tory
1 ,1;1 '1 '_1
from being alive and 1111111 1¡':111}' Lv nc h shoots Alvin in a w ay that regis ters the difficulty ,,1 C \L II <11I1f "t ¡nuvcm eots, aIle! this difficulty marks
Fred that he is a frienel uf Dick Laurent. 28. Jaeques Lacan, TheSeminaroffacques Lacan, BookI: Freud's Papers on Tech
futures. Once one recogni zes this, onc beco m eSa politicized subjcct. Rather than dreaming about a fa rHa smatic alte rnaliv e, the reconcilcd subjcct
'."
r!el"" 1in ).; him as an absence irreducible tu
'avld L ynch, 33 . 10. Fan tasy rcn de rs lhe subjcct vulnerable for th e samc rcason m a t it func
a vo ided sceing the fil m beca use uf its a ppa rcDt bck of se riousness. 2. [t: io undoubtedly due to its sccming Iack üf fantasmatic disturtion that Th e
tions ideol ogi call y; wh ile f~ ntasiz ing, tllC subj ect becornes like one of (he
Stmight Stol"y has occas ioned so li me critical comme nta ry relati vc to Ly nch's
lhe fasc ina tin g images on lhe w al\. O ne can not sce (he O ther as th t: source
pr isone rs in
1I. Imme rsi ng oneself in fant¡u;y a nd thereby ex posing onese\ f to possib le hu m iliation is the cthica l positio n that figures prom inently in th e fi lms of
tells a sim pIe sto ry tha t req ui res little to no in tc rp re tive effort. 3. N icholas Rombes, "B/tlc Velvn Undergruund: D av id Ly nch's Post-Punk Poetics," in Erica Sheen and Annette Davison, ed s., The Cinema uf Da l/id Lynch: American D ,.eams, Nigh tmare Visions (London: W allflowe r, 2(04),
cave, unable to lu rn he r/his head ro see '..vhat produces
of what one sces, but neither can one sec the O ther as looking.
ot.her work, es pecially lilms such as Blue Ve/I/et (1986) or Mu lholland Dril/e (2001). Cri ti cs seem to hav e take n (he title htcra ll y a,nd accep ted thatthe film
P latu '~
W im Wenders. It rep reseots th e k ey mome nt in París, Texas (1 984), Wings ofDesire (1987), and The E,ld ofVioLeru:e (1 997), a mQng o th e rs. 12. What makes a great political rev ol utionary is p rccisely the public insis te n ce on a pri vate fantasy. Such figu res refuse
72 . 4. Jeff J ohnson, Perv~rt in the Pulpit: M ora/ity in th e Work:' of Dal/id Lynch (Jef
te)
acee pt the Iirnitations des
ig nated by the prevailing symbolic structurc an d in sist on the impossible.
fe rson, N.e. : MacFa rland, 2(04), 138. 5. Johnson, Peroert in ¡he PuLpit, 1.3 8. 6. The visual cm phas is on A lvin 's disability pa ral kls the lreatme nt of Jo hn Merrick (Joh n Hu rt) in The E /ephant A-lal/ ( II¡II,,) BI II ifl ¡\11; case 01' T ht·
13· G . W . F. H ege l, Tlle Phenomel1ology oI Spirit, transo A. V. M iller (Oxford :
Stmight SlOry , Lynch dep icts Alvin a,., a LI' I II I}' '. Itll l' ·' I \\i lhin lhe imngt·
th t" degrcl· nI' c njoymem shelhe sec~ in orhcrs. On two oCCilsion $ in the film,
250
N ons
Ox fo rd U P, 1977), 226. 14.
rn Entre -'es mains (J3etwecn H is Hand.s , 20(5), A nn e Fontaine nicel y cap tures visuall y t-he rela rionship betwee n t.h e d isposition of rhe subject and
NOTES
,1
we see women ovcrtaken with exce~s.i v c enjoyment while daucing at a club. Th e shots emphasi ze this enjoyment through wild gy rations, extreme
else or something more. Ir stcms from the fee.ling of our having been duped by language, cheared of somcthing, not from our having been presented
col()r~, puls
with a dererminate object or goal for which we can aim, Desire has no content- it is for notbing- bccause language can ddiver lO us no incontro ve rtible rrurh, no positive goal." Joan Copjec, Read My Desire: Lacan Against
of ~e r i a l killer Laurcnt Ke ~sler (Benolt Poelvoorde) looking at the dancers. As ~pectalOrs, we initially expe rience the displa)' of enjo)'ment in its im m ediac)', but the subseq uent shot undermines this expe rience and allows LIS to see thc mediation at \York . Th e shot of th e seri al ki lle r lookin g reveals th at the excess resides in the look itsdf, not in w hat that look sees. 15. Typicall)', fantas)' produces rather tha n eliminates paranoia. By narrating our lo~s of the impossible object, fantas)' attributes this loss to an external cause that we can imagine as the thicf of our proper en joymc nt. Alvin's fantas)' does n't create pa ranoia for guantitati ve rather th an qualitati l/e rea somo That is, the fantasy isn', d ifferent in structure frorn paranoid fa nta sies; it is diffe rent beca use he eommits him self to it fully, el/en lO the point at whi ch it becornes t raurn atic.
9, Navigating Mulholland Orive , David Lynch's Panegy ric to Hollywood J.
r or ~I detailed contrast betwee n the fi lm and the tclc\' ision pilot, sce W a r ren Buckl,md, .. , A Sad, Bad Tra ffic Accident': T he Televisual P rehisto ry ofDal/id Ly nch's Film Mu lholland D/: ," Ntw R eview ofFilm af¡d Televi;ioll
2.
Studics 1.1 (2003): 13 1-47. Stanlcy Ka uffrnann, "Sense and Sensibili ty," New Republic (Octobcr
29 ,
200 1): 28. 3. Jacques T,a Gtn , The Seminal" offacques L/can, Book XX: Encore, 197 2- 1 97.3, transo Eruce F ink (Ne w Yo rk: N o rton, 1998),95. This idea h nds an echo in the fi lm theory of Sta nk y Cavell, who claims, "Il is a poor id ea of fan c\sy which Lakcs it tO be a wo rld 3pa rt from realit)', a world clca rl y showing its unreality. Fantasy is precisely w hat rea lity can be confused with. It is thm ugh famasy th ar ou r con viction of rhe worth of rea li ry is esta blishcd ; ro forgo our fanta sies woulJ be to forgo our lOuch with the world." Stan lcy
4·
Cal/ell, The World Vicwed (Ca mbridge: Harvard UP, 1979),85· F or a discussion of tbe speci ficall y lcs bian di mc ns ion of lhe fanrasy pre sented in Mu lholland Drive, ,ce Hcarhcr Lo vc's exccllen t "Specrac ular Pa ilure: The Fi gure of m e Lesbia n in M ulholland D rille," NeU' LiterarJl History 35.1 (2004): lI7- .3 2 .
5. The subjc:ct C
the Historicists (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1994),55. 6. Jacgues Lacan, Le SéminaÚ'e, livre X: L'Angoisse, 1962-1963, ed. Jaeques Alain Miller (Paris: Seuil, 2004), 98 (my translation). 7. Bruce Fink, A Clinical Introduction to Lacanian Ps)'choanalyJis: Theory and Technique (Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1997),61. 8, Jacgues Lacan, The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psycho -Analysis, trans o Alan Sheridan (New York : Norwn, 1978),270. 9. Fink, Clinical Introductioll, (ío. 10, In Seminal' XI, Lacan draws attention to rhis movement around the object that desire perforrns, a movement he associates with desire's rnanifesting itself in the drive. H e sa)'s, "It is not thar d esi re clings to the object of the drive--desirc movcs around it, in so far as it is agitated in the drive. " Lacan, Four Fundamenta! Concepts, 243. Ir. At this point, we might read L)'nch 's revelarion of the fantasmati c dimen sion of remporality as a glo.ss on K an t's Critique of Pure Reawn. According to Kant, rhe foundarioD for all experience lies in m e subject's grasp of events in temporal succu,sion, as necessa ril)' linked with (lne another. Ex perience as such rhus depends on the subjeet existing in a unificd time. But MulllOlland Drive suggests that the temporali ty of the suhject is not primary-not inhere nt to subjectivity as such-but the result of the sub ject's turn to fantas)'. T he subject experiences temporal ity as ir chooses to i.mme rse itself in fant as)'. In this sen se, the film doesn't di sprove Kant, but it does indicare that temporality is not constitutive for the human subject but the res ult of a famasmatic retreat from repetition . 12. Slal/oj Z izek, The Plague of FantaJies (New York : Verso, 1997), 10--1 I (Zizek's emphasis). 13 , Ir is not at all coincidental thar Rita takes her name fmm a Gilda movie poster. As Gilda, Rita Hayworth was clead y a fantasy object, testified to by her famous declaratíon that in her rdarions with men they go to bed with Gilda and wake up with Rita Hayworth. 14. The strucrure ofthe auditíon itself is highl), fantasmatic: the producer wel comes Betty warml)' to the aud itio n, asb hc r if she wan ts sornething to drink, and works hard to make her feel cornfortahlc. There are eight peo pIe in the room during the auditíon, íncluding a n agent who irnl11cdiarel), takes Rctty under her wing. In ¡¡ctuality, Ilr l"< IU r~ e, au d itions for new ac rilf\ 1 I ying Ollt fo r rheir first pan are rarely ~ II . II' 0 11 111 1I1dati Ilg.
NOTU ,~?
N O II S
253
15. Lacan, Seminal" XX, 66. 16. Slavoj Zi1.ek, Tarrying with the N egative: Kant, H egel. and the Cnúque of
in itsel f- the rea l- rel11ai n,
JdeoLogy (Durbm: Duke UP, 1994), 117· 17. On thi s poi nt, one shoulcl contTast lHuLhoLLalld Dn' ~'e \Vith Andy anJ Larry
and necessar ily futura!. H egel, on th e om e r hand, sees rhe dJing in itscl fas pan of the subjecr's ex pe rience rhat the subjecr has yet to recogniz e as its
Wachowski's n co-noir BozlI7d (I996). RozlI7d places a wo maI1I in the position of the traditional noir hero and transform s the heterosexu;¡[ noir relation
own. As in male fantasy, Kant rheorizes the subject approaching the expe rience of the real but neve r arriving at it, while Hegel, foll owing rhe logic
ship into a Ieshian one. The res ult is that the sexual rclationship betwee n the noir he ro, Corky (G ina Cershon), and the femme fatalc, Violct (Jennifer
experience of the real.
Tilly), succeecls, whereas in traditional film noir it always runs aground (or
of the subjecl's grasp and b\;
of female fanras)', theorizes the subjcct as havi ng always airead)' had th e 22. This
is
mesecond time that a characteT lip-syncs a Roy O rbison song in a
succeeJ s through th e hero's taming the femm c fatale, as in Roben Mont
Lynch film, the first being, of course, Dcan Stockwell's famous rendition
gomer)"s Lady '/n the Lake [1947]). Th'J[ rh e film is conscious of this becomes evident in the finallincs exc hanged betwcen the women: Corky asks Violet,
of "In Dreams" in BLue Ve/veto 80th perform ances occur at the heart of a
"You know what the diffcrence is between you and me, Violet?" Violet says,
most as ifOrbison 's musi c com bines perfecrl y, for Lynch, th e nostalgic bli ss of the fantasy world i/nd its un derlyi ng horror.
"No." Corky responds, "Me neither." At this point, the two clrivc a\Vay
(0
gether in a shiny new pickup truck, and the film ends. The concludingJia logue suggests that, unlik e the relationship between the maLe noir hero and the femm e fatale, the relationship betwee n the female noir hero and rhe
fantas)' space, at the edge of an encounte r wit h a disturbing re;¡!. It is al
23- Juan-David Na5io, Five Lessons 011 the Psych oallalytic Them y of Jacques Lacar¡, trans o David Pett igrew and Franc;ois Raffoul (Albany: State U of New York P, 1998), 103.
femme fatale encounters no structural stumbli.ng block . The problem w ith
24· El izabeth Cowie suggests this doublc role of [mtas)' when she points out,
this characterization is that it Jooms rhe les bian relatioflship to lovcless ness.
"Fantasy, in irnagin inge njoym cnt without lo~s, al ways posi ts a 10ss already enacted to which it answers." E li zabeth Cowie, Rep r~sen ting the rVoman:
\Ve onl)' love in response to th e failure ofthe sexual rclationship. As Lacan puts it, "V/hat makes up for rh e sexual rclationship is, quite precisely, lov e" (Lacan,Seminal' XX,45)' Ifthis relationship com es offsuccessfull)' (a sBound
insists th;n it d ocs), th en no lo ve can emerge. 18. One of the key politica l fe3tures of eve r)' L)'nch film is the insis tence on che
Cinema and PJ'ychoanaLysis (M inneapolis: U of Min ncsota P, r997), 299. 25· L1can, Sem inal' XX, 3· 26. In her fan rasy, Diane compounJs Ad,lm's difficu1 ties by burdening him wi th rh e demands of this sLIperegoic figure, w ho press urcs birn ro submit to
failure oftn O:' sexual rela t.io n. W hen it docs seem to succeed, as in BLue Ve/
th e dictatcs ofthe mob and to hire C am illa Rhodes fo r his fi lm, in order that
ve! orWiLd al H eart, the film clearly design ares the relarion as Llntasmatic.
be mig bt rea p t he benefits of this capitulation. H e re, we see the traditional role oft he superego, offeri ng enjoyment in excha nge for submission.
This re jection of the successful sexual rc1ation stands out because, as Ray mond Bellour points out, the fundam ental ideological fun ction of cinema
27. Sigmund Freud , "Sorne Psychical Conseq uences of rhe Anatomical Dis
is the production of this relation in the form of the d iegetic couplc.
tinction Between the Sexes" (1925), trans o James Strac hey, in SE, vol. 19
According to Bcllour, "The configuration detcrmineJ by th e image of the diegetic coupte remains abso1utely central to the fiction of a cinema power
(London: H ogarth Press, 1961),257. 28. If, as I am suggesting, Muiho LLand Drive repr esents Lynch's most ovenly
fully obsessed by the iJcology of the famil y and of marriage, which con stitutes its imag inary and symbolic base." Raymond Bc1lour, "A Bit ofHis
ferninist film, it al50 represcnts, at the same time, his least rom ant icizcd vi sion of femininity. In this way, the film challenges ~v!artha N ochi rnson's
tory," trans o Mary Guaintance;, in Constance Penky, eJ., Th e AlJaLysú of Film (Bloomington: Indiana UP, 20(0),14 19. Jacques Lacan, "La Logique du Fantasme," /:lutre.' Éaits (Paris: Seuil, 2001),326, my rranslan on. 20. Alcnka Zupancic, Ethics ofthe R eal: Kant, Lmm (N.-\\' York ; Verso, 2000'), 23 2. 21. The differe nce betwce n ma!c ami tet1 lal. C:IIII.I'I\' SIIIII'IIIIt'n)¡ocs the dit'· ference hctween Kanti,\n :1nd I (,-ge li.lIl' " l~l' II I ''¡''~'\
'5 4
,d w;ly~ 0UlSiuc
yond the field of its kn ow lec!ge . That is ro Sily, rhe thing in itself is al ways
N OH ~
" 111
K.lld , IIH.'
Ihill;~
characterization of the fcminine in Lynch's work. According to Nochim son, Lynch identi.fies femininity with recep tivity and the ability to cede control, and, in contrast to most filrnmab:rs, he embraces these quali tieso She c1aims, "The im balance of valuc on force to the exclusion of recepti vity-often eq uarecl \Vi th weakness- biases the culture and the mo vies against much that is associated with womcn's wisdom. Lynch's be licf thar Lhe real requi res a balance berween force and rec eptivity suspends
tllt'
II s lI ;'! 1
t'xclusion uf women from centerS of cultural and narrati ve im-
NOTES
255
porrance. In his films, the huo must get in touch with---or be-what has been excluded when the conventional Hollywood hefo ' takes control'" (Martha P. Nochimson, The Passion ofDavid Lynch:WiLd at Heart in Holly wood [Austin: U ofTexas P, 1997], II). But in Mulholland Drive, it is cIear that the feminine is not "receptivity" but a desire every bit as horrific afld destructive as its male counterpart (such as that ofFred Madison). 29. At the point of intersection between the worlds of fantasy and d esire, we see a figure of unrestrained and horrifying enjoyment, wh0m Lynch shows exi-sting behind the diner Winkie's. This figure embodies the real, and as such, one cannot endure his presence even for an instant, as we see when a man coming out ofWinkie's collapses immediately upon seeing him. 30. Sigmund Freud, Fragment ofan Analysis ofa Case of Hysteria (1905), transo James Strachey, in SE, \101. 7 (London: Hogarth Press, 1953),
110.
31. Tbeodor W. Adorno, Minima Moralia: Reflections from Damagt·d Lije, transo E . F. N. Jephcott (New York: Verso, 1978),202.
6. The idea that Kant presen t.~
LW II
comrecing modalities of subjectivity is
the dominant understandin g of l he re/acion between the first and second
Critique . For a compelling e la bo ral io n of this conception, see Christine M. Korsgaard, Creating the Kingdom ofEnds (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 199 6). 7·
Unlike Lynch, a fter discoverin g the link be tween fantasy and freedom through the separatia n of th e rea lms of d esire and fantasy, Kant fails to see the ultimate identity of these rea l ms. H e fails, in other words, to grasp the speculative identity oftheoretica l a nd practical reason. This is the step tbar Ficbte and Hegel accomplish: th ey u nde rstand that the fantasy world of practical reason is the truth of theo retical reason rather than simply being an alternative to it. The solmio n ma t prac tical reason provides for rhe im passes of theoretical rcason is al rea d y w ritten into the structure of theoreti cal reason, which means that we ne ver engage the world as purely theoret ical subjects but always through the distorting influence of practical reason. This is an insight that Lynch bri ngs to each of his films, and it allows him to use the Kantian separation into opposing realms of d esi re and fantasy to illustrate the Hegelian identity within opposition.
Conclusion: The Ethics of Fantasy I.
In Seminar VIl, Lacan conceives of ethics in te rms of the relation that one adopts toward one's desire. As Lacan sees it, by refusing ro give ground rela rive to one's desire, one sustains an ethical position beca use one does not gi ve in ro the demands of an oppressive social law. Slavoj Zizek, on the other hand, attempts to align ethics with the drive and its inccssant repetition of a failed encounter. Bec:¡usc of its devotion ro the lost cause, to what the social order has repressed, he cIaims [hat "the status of the drive it.rclf ú inherently ethical." Slavo) Zizek, FUI· They Knuw Not What They Do: Enjoyment a,. a Po
2.
litica' Factor (London: Verso, 1991),272 (Zizek's emphasis). Kant enumerates four antinomies of pure rcason and divides them ¡n to two distinct forms-mathematical and dynamic. In the case of the former,
8. It is not coinciden tal tha t the Critique of Pw·e Reason rclies almost entirely on argumentation alone, while the crucial points in the Critique ofPractical Reason involve the use uf fanciful examples. In order to prove that \Ve are free in the latter text, Kant constructs two scenarios in which the subject breaks from the natural causality of se/f-interest through the intervention oflaw. 9· Kant ide ntifies freed o m and the ethiclI act. It is our capaciq' for ethical acts that proves to us that we are free, and it is o nly in ethical acts that we trul y affirm our autonomy. E ven though the free subject could choose not to act ethically, the decision not to do so would actually attesr to the influ ence of pathnlogical factors and thus to a lack of freedom.
reason fails beca use both solutions are false, and in the case of the latrer, reason falIs beca use both solutions are truth.
3·
Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, transo Werner S. Pluhar (India napolis: Hackett, 1996),4,8.
4. One might contend, of course, that laws are simply ,i llusions that we con struct in order to convince ourselves that we are free and that they prove rwrhing abour our actual frccdom. Bur this response to Kant still can't ex plain why laws emerge in the first place, why the d eccp tinn w ould ever come into being. The very emergence of the law i, ~ d r ll.!stifics to so me rhing that disrupts rhe order of causality
rnllll
wi , hill .
5· Immanucl Kant, Critique of Practical N.m.iflll, i" ¡ '"" Ill r,l rlIlIrtJo/,lly , 'rans. and ed. Mary J. Gregor (Ncw York : ( ':",,11,11 1.(1 111', "}~'(¡)' " I.i ('4. 256
N OTES
No ns
2H
INDEX
A EOUl de Souffle. See G odard, Jean-Luc
Badham , /ohn: Satllrda y Night Fever,
Abbott (Ruel) and CosteUo (L Oll), 104
13
Baudry, Jean -Lollis, 3
Aeademy I\wards, 11,49, 9°, 23 2-3311
Aekerman, C hanw l, 2261l
Bay, M ichad: The /stand, 88
Adorno, Theodo r, 21 9
Bellour, Ray rnonJ , 254n
ali enation-cffcct, 6, 8
Bcrg re n, Eric, 2J2- 331l
The Alphabet . See Lynch, David
Bcrry, Betsy, 9R, 23811
American Broadcasting Company
(ABC), 129, J94
etween His H allds . See F o ntaine,
Annc
Amer ican F ilm Institute, 10,26
Big Boy, 13
"Alvin 's Thcmc." See Badalam enti,
Black , Joel, 5
Elade Rwwer. See Seott, Ridley
~ngdo
André, Serge, 149
B1ake, William, 1T3
an tagonism , 14-15,21,4(,,70,209,
Elue Ve/velo See Lynch, D avid
23Gn. See also Dune; Lacan, Jacques apparatus,7 "Thc Archaie Torso of Apollo." See Rilke, Raine r Maria Bauala rne nti, An gelo, 197; "Al vin 's The,n e." t Ro{ ; "Twin Peaks TIu-IIu-,"
1 ~o;
Bonitzer, Pascal, 8
Rord\\icll. [);¡vid, 69- 70
Eound. See Wacho\\'ski, Andy;
W achowski, Larry
Hoy SCOU[S, ' 3 Hrakhag", Sl a n, 22(1II Ik,zi..!,
/ ;111.' F. \'a l1 ~ , I T5
lI "I'C/!hI, '" , .\a { ;",I:rrd , k an-Lue
2,Y
Brecht, Bertolt, 5-6,8-10 Brooks, Mel, 49
Buckland, Warren, 25271
Bundtzen, Linda, 2400
Buñuel, Luis: Thal Obscure Objecl of
Desire, 2400
Del Rio, Rebekah, 214 Demme, Jonathan: Silel1ce of Ihe
9 8, 123,148,162,174,216,218, 227- 2871 , 229Jl , 23871, 24771
Frost, Mark, 194.24471
Lamb,', 24471
Th t: lsland. See Bay, Michael Jt Happened One Nigllt. See Capra,
F ran k
Derrida, Jacques, 22771
Descartes, René, 221
Garden of Eden, 15
desire, 2,4,9,13-18,220,22871. See also
George, Diane Hume, 143-44
Gifford, Barr)': Night Moves, 154; lVild
Lynch, David
Ishi í-Gonzales, Sam, 98-99
Jameson, Fredric, 95, 239'l
Jenkíns. Patty : Monster, 5
Cameron, James: Tílanic, 21
De Vore, Christopher, 232-33 71
Campion, Jane, 22971
Double Jndemnily. See Wilder, Billy
Gilda, 205, 25371
Canal+,194
Cannes Film Festi val, rr, 110, 129
drive. See death drive
Dune (film). See Lynch, Dav id
Godard, Jean-Luc, 5, 7-9, 11 - 12;
Capra, Frank: lt Happened One Nighl,
Dune (novel). See H erbert, Frank
Carabimers (The Rifiemen), 8; Le
Kaleta, Kenneth, 116
23 00
Les Carabiniers. See Godard, Jean-Luc
Dunne, Michael, 24211
Méprú (Contempt), 8; Pierrot lefau,
Kansas, 13, 18, III
8; Vivre sa vie (My Lije to Live), 8;
Cavell, Stan ley, 25271
Edwards, Jonathan, 24771
Kant, Immanuel, 29, 220-22, 23on,
253 71 ,254-5571 ,256-5771
castrarÍon, 27, 40-45, 96, 98, 120, 126,
170,185-86, 23Jn, 23571, 24 00
ego ideal, 4, 206
Th e Elephanl Mal1. See Lynch, Dav id
The Grandmother. See Lynch, David
Celeste, Reni, 167
The End ofViolence. See Wenders,
Hainge, Greg, 35
Kember, Joe, 184
Hayworth, Rita , 25371
King, Rodney, 228n
Hegel , G. W.F., 41,153,220,22971,
23571, 25 0n , 254-5571 : and th e
Korsgaard, Christine, 25771
Kripke, Saul, 2200
Chion, Michel, 11,33,40,78,98,
100-101, lI6, 130-31,14°,15°, 22?n,240n
Wim
Entre ses mains. See Fontaine, Anne
Eraserhead. See Lynch, David
Christianity, 153
Citizen Kane . See Welles, Orson
Extreme Makeover (televisíon series), 22
commodity fetishism, 9, 28
fantasy, 6, 8-10, 15- 18,22871. See also
Conlempl. See G oda rd, Jean-Luc
Copjec, Joan, T4, 122,23 00 ,25 2-53 71
Lynch, David
feminine enjoy ment. See Dune : Lacan, Jacques; Twín Peaks: Fire Walk with
Couleau, Christele, 23071
Cronenberg, David: A Hislory of
Me
Davis, Walter, 22971
Davison, Annette, 117
Dayan, Daniel, 28
death drive, 123, 202, 220, 25371, 25 00 .
See also Lynch, David (Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me)
deconstruction, 12,3°, 22771
De Laurentiis, Dino, 68
Deleuze, Gilles, 235- 3ól1
160
THE IM POSSII L( DA V III I""JI 1I
Jerslev, Anne, 155
Johnson, Jeff, 113, 140, 178, 193
Jurassic Park. See Spielberg, Steven
ABout de soujflé (Br'eatMess), 8; Les
WeekEnd,8
Kauffmann, Stanley, 195
Keller, James, 66
beautiful soul, 23571; and the law
Kubrick, Stanley, 49
of the heart. 190; and spec ulativc
Cowie, Elizabeth, 25571
Violroce, 23971
at H eal·t (n ovel), 125, 154
identity, 23-24, 25711
H eidegger, Martin , 32
Lacan, Jacques, 6, 48,101,174,23271;
and antagonism, 236n; and das
H erbert, Frank: Dune (novel), 68
A HistOIT ofViolence. See Cronenberg,
D av id
'¡ng, 82-84, 234/1; and dcath drive,
146; and the gaze, 1°7.23471; and
feminine enjoy rnent, 86, 23871; and
femm e fa rate, 17-18,25471
Hj tchcock, Alfred, 94,22971,24171
the lamella, 31-32; and the Law of
Fichte, Johann, 25?n
Holladay, W illia m, 233-3471
the Father, 2400; and the objet petit
Fink, Bruce, 198,200
Hollywood fi lm, 2, 4, 5, 8, 11-12,20
a, 51; and the phallus, I42, 24571;
film noir, 17,75,25471
Fleming, Victor: The Wizard ofOz,
18-19, I Io-rr, 118-19, 126, 229'l,
21,27,28,46,49,64,68-72,81,86,
and the real, 9, 25, 211; and the
125,167, 191,195-97,202,210,219
sexual relationsh ip, 208, 25471; and
Hughes, David, 125, 137, 24 In
thesuperego,173,216, 233n ;and
surplus enjoyment, 23111; and the
24 Jn
Fontaine, Anne: Entre ses main,'
(Betwl!t'lI His !-lands J, 25 1 - 5 271
ideal ego, 166,200,207
id entificatíon, 2, 5-7,166,214
163,170,197,200, 247n,25In,253n,
Ford. I"hll ; Stllj!,f.'(YI(u:h , 7~7 1
imaginary, 2, 5-7,15,16,1 °7, 121-22,
256n; and the rhcory of enjoyment,
Fqm,llI h. ~ 11\ 111"1. J.1'ifl
125, 160, 166, 168, 174,2°9,224,25471
"[n D rcams." Ser O rbison, Ro}'
r~ II1I ;1~y , N. ()r1, 1c.)6.
1'11'11" . "11!II 'II lu l.
1, le;, J", 2<; . ;H. H3.
theory of desire, 14,54, 123,159,
11.7. 140. 23371; and the theory of 21 r
INOCX
' 1~'
Lady in lhe Lake. See Montgomery, Robert
revoluti o nary po lities, 71-72, 88-89,
1 17;
Layton, Lynne, 23911
J.nd the vo icc, 75-79, 23711
- - The Elepholll MtJl7, 11, 12, 20, 24,
- -Mulholland Drive, 1 1,
I (),
~IJ •• )1\.
- -Wilda l H eart,
11.
110--28, [50,
192; in cont rast wi th Lost Fliglzway,
154 , 241-4411; in contras¡ w ith T/¡e
194,1 96, 20I,209,212-[3, 215- 1C"
Slraight Story , [91 --
critique in, 112, 117, 120,128; and
L ee, Sheryl, 132
25,49- 67,68,69,7 2 ,90-9 2 ,23 2
Leibniz, Gottfried, 221
36n, 250-5212; and das DÚ2g, 234n;
Los Angeles, 10, 26
:lnd desire, 49-55,58,63-65; and
LOSl Highway. See Lynch, David
the gaze, 23412; and fantasy, 49-5 1,
254-5511; and desi re , 195-206,
2°9-10,217- 18, 252-53n, 25611; and
f:ll1t;\sy, 195- y6, 19 11- 2r y, 253-56n;
and feminism, 255-5611; and the
Love, H ea ther, 252114
55- 66,234-3511; ano the impossible
impossible object, 200-201, 207
Lucas, George: SlarWars, 68, 88
object, 51-58, 62-64; 233-3411; and
208,2[3- 14,217- 1::1; production
II2; music in, 117-19; producti on
Lucas, Tim, 165
norm a lity, 57- 58, 62--63, 65-67;
hisrory and reecption of, IY4,
h istory and reception of, 11 0, [25,
Lynch, David: and co nserv:nive
productio n history and recepti on
25011; and sexual diffcrcncc, 196,
129
politics, 120, [28, 179; anJ de~ire, 13,18-23,25,22711,22811; and dress , 13; and fantas)', lI-13, 18-25,26,
25,26-48,58,69,72,82,9°,117,
220-24,227n ,22812,229-30Il ;and
223,230-3 211 ;
audio track
or, 35;
l JO- 12, 117- 22, 12 5- 28, 24 - 43 n ,
' 25411; :l.IId the impossible ohject,
20?' - 210, 212- 17, 25411; ano the
supcrego, 2 15- 17; and tcrnporali ty,
Mamet, David: The Winslow Boy, [77
20[-202
J\1arcuse, Herbert, 22711
~C,ix
Figures C cu Íilg Sick,
- - He
;v[arker, Chris,
10
SI;C/~r.;/11 Story, 177-Y3,
194,
22Ú12
Marshall, Garry: Pretty ¡Voman, 46
normality, 12-[3, '9- 20; ;Ind the
and capitalist production, 26-28,
spectator, 2-3,10- 13,22611
3°-33,3 6 ,39-44,47- 4 8,14 1,
25°11 - 25217; in con tra st with U/ild
Marx, Karl, 9, 22, 36, 43, 90, 228-2911 ,
23 In; Jnd desire, 27,32-39,23 In;
at Heart, 191-92; cultural critique
ano fantasy, 27- 3°,32,34,38-47,
in, 191-93; a nd desire, 179-i:)(¡;
23 111
Mar;,(c, M:¡rcia Smith, 240-411l
14 1,221 - 22, 23 11l; lighting in, 33,
Jnd ethics, I Si-Y3, 25111; ami
ma sochism, 62,
--The Alphabel, 10; and the uncanny,
22~
--Dlue Velvel, 11, 19,5°, <)0-lO9,
124,23212
112,134, [35, [50, 178, 238- 4 m ,
230-3 III , 24911 ; performance of
fantasy, '7R-So. ¡i12-9j; ami th l'
Memento. Seo' Nolan, Christopher
24811,25512 ; and dcsire, [4, \)0- <) 1,
Jack Nance in, 34; production
impossible ohjcCl, IS3 , IS8; ;lnd
Le i'vlép¡ú . .'lee G nrlard,
94-109; and [;'nL:\SV, 90-yó, 98-109,
history and reception of, 26, 49;
irony I 78-7Y; and paranoia, IYO
;\,terrick, John, 232-33n
231;11 ,254n; teminist critiques of,
and sacrifiee of enjoyme nt, 27,
93,25211; production histor , and
Met:., Christian, 3, 6-7, 28, 22511
9°,94,23911; ano th e gJ.7.C, 107;
29-38,42-43,4 7-48,23112
rccl'p tion of, 177,25°11; and
Milkr, JacCjue s-.'\l ain. 'J9. 101
rc-.olutionary politics,
and the impossiblc objcct, t)4, 100,
--The G/'tJndmOlh er, 10
104- 106; lighting in, 97,157,24012;
--LOSl High way, 1[,1 9, 20, 15°,
lC) 3,
25112
--Twil2 Peaks (tek \' ision series),
and maternity, 101-102, 106, 108,
154-76,178,192,22712 , 246-5°12;
20,110. I2Y- 30, [3 2, 13 6 , 143, [9'"1,
240-4 In; production history and
in contrast with Mulholland Drive,
244 '1
MissulIla (Montana).
J e~Tl- Luc
I)
Aloasler. So,; Jc: nkins, P;1tty
Muntgo m<:ry, Robe rt: Lady il2 the Lake,
254 n
- - 'livll1 Peal(s: Fire ¡'f/{i/k w/c!z Me ,
Mo tion P ictu re ,\ssociation of
reccption of, 90, 110, 25°1/; and
194,196,201,2°9, 212-13,215-16,
sexual difference, 94, 99-1 02
254-5511; ;I nd d es ire, 155-64,
19, '2Y-53, [55, 194,223,244- 4 611 ;
[66--69,17°, 174- 75; and fantasy,
and death drive, 146- 48 , 153; and
Mul/¡ollal1d D rive. See Lynch, David
155-57,159, 164-75,246-4811; and
desire, 130-31, [37- 40, 144- 1'5, 149;
Mul vey, Laura , :3, 6-7, 91; Riddles of th~
contrast with the novel, 76, 78,
the impossihlc object, 155-56, TiS;
and ethics, [36, 151-53; and fantas)',
85-88, 236-37n; and f:1ntasy, 69-76,
lighting in, 157, [71 -72,22711,24911;
13°-38, 14°-45, 148-49,24411; and
78-89, 2371J ; and o es ire, 72- 76, 8[,
and normality, 174; p roduction
fcminine enjnymcnt, 149-51; and
24m; and fcmininc cnjoyment,
history and rcce ption of, ['54. 24(m;
impossible object, [3 0-3 1, 134, 136
85-87; and the impossiblc ohject,
soutld m ,
37; and phallic authority, 14 2 -43,
Ka sio, Juan-Dav id, 214
7+ 76; proouction hi story ano
11",
146-53, 245n; p rod uetion history
Natura l Bom K iUers. See Stone, Oli vcr
reecption of, óS, 1lO , 12t), 2~(,1/; :Illd
\ ' 1111 ~
and rc;C(;p,i'ln of,
Ileurosis, 'ú, 20, 228n
--Dune, 25, 68-89,9°, [['5,
236-38n; and antagonism, 71; in
262
of, 49,232-3311
- - Eraserhead, 2,10-11,13,19,20,
desire, [[0-12, [23; and exeessive
enjoyment, 111 - 16; and fanta s)',
¡lit
I Mro~r, lpl
r rlAV lp IYN i: tt
1(,2;
"l. 1 7 ~ I
:lllCllhe su p¡; rego,
7 1, J I? <¡cm; ,Ind
I 1'1 1 ., 1,
'1' 111
lhe
129,
154
America, 177
Sp/¡nix, 226n My Lije to Uve. See G od3rd, Jean-Luc N~ n ce,
Jack. See Erczserhead
I NDEX
16
New York City, 13,49 Night Moves. See Gifford, Bany Noehimson, Martha, 11,50, 116,118, 160,234-35 n ,254-55 n
Nolan, Christopher: Memento, 16-17,
Republiean National Committee, 178,
Stone, Oliver: Na turalliol/l l\il/f"I . ,
I'wre sa vie. See Godard, Jean-Luc
193 Rcsnais, Alain, 2297)
24 1-4 2n Stoekwell, Dean, 2'i'i1/
urhe voice." See Dune; Lost Highway
Riddles ofthe :3phznx. See Mulvey,
superego, 52, 76,
LlUra
The Rifiemen. See Godard, Jean-Lue
228n
normality, 13-16, 227-28n. See a/so
Rilke, Rainer Maria: "The Arehaie Torso of Apollo,"
Lyneh, David objet petit a, 53, 55-56, 64, 104, 107, 13°,139,2°7. See also Laean,
I
Oedipus,72 Orbison, Roy: "Crying," 214; "In
di'
See also Laean, J:I ~ (I''' ''( I Highway; Mulh()II,/II,I / II//
surplus enj 0l'mc rH, _" Sr , "/In 1 1 ~.lI l r Jaeques
Waehowski, Andy: Bound, 254n Wachowski, La rry: Bound, 254n Wallaee, D avid Foster, 246n Watl Streetjournal,13
surplus val ue, 3('
Wa rner, Ma rin a, 248n
Romeo and juliet . See Shakespeare,
Sweeney, M:HY, ' 7
Waters, John, 49
symbolie la w. R" 111\. 1 ' 1. 1 1~I ' ..:13 symboli c urJ a, i> 7. lO;. Hf,. Ui, ' 1n,
Watt, Stephen, 233-34n
William
215,24UII
Waynes Wortd. See Spheeris, Penelope We'l'k End. See Godard-Jean-Luc
sadism,23 2n Sargent, Alvin, 232-33n
Dreams," 104, 255n
vuye urism, 3- 4, 6 1Mil, '.~ljll ,
Rombes, Nieholas, 178
Russian formalism, 228n
Jaeques
I1 'i r 2.17
Welles, Orson, J; C'ltizen Kane, 233n
Sartre, Jean-Paul, 225n
Tarkovsk y. A ncln.: i, .2911; $11J1ke'r, 229 n
Saturday Night Fever. See Badham,
Taylor, Aaro n, 230-3 11/
John Sehindlerj· List. See Spielberg, Steven
That Obscul'e Obj.:ct oI Dri/rC'. Se,
Seott, Rid 'ley: B/ade Runner, 237n
Titanie. See CamCr(l n, Tomes
Shakespeare, William, 1; Romeo and
Tomasulo, F rank , 2.811
Penley, Constancc, 7
juliet, 57 Sheen, Eriea, 69
Total Reeall. See Vc: rhoeven, Pa ul
Travolta, Joh n, 13
Pfeil, Fred, 238n
Silenee ofthe Lambs. See Demme,
Treves, Frede riek, 232-33n
Wings ofDesire. See We nde rs, Wim
phallus, 85-86,142-43,147-5°, 153, 169-70. See also Laean, Jaeques
Tw in Peaks (rel evision series). Ser:
The Winslow Boy. See Mamer, David
Six Figures Gming Sick. See Lync h,
Ordinary People. See Redford, Robert
Paramount, 49 paranoIa, 41,124,19°, 243n, 25271. See also The Straiglzt Story PaTis, Texas. See Wenders, \Vim
Pellow, C. Kenneth, 92,
phenomenology,
23~
22871
Jonathan David
phn:nology, 23-24
"Slaughterhouse." See Powermad
Pierrot le fou. See Godard, Je an- Lue
Sloterdijk, Peter, 227n
Plato, 221, 25 In
speculative identity, 61, 67, 89, 128,
Plummer, Laura, 152 Pomeranee, Bcrnard, 233n
Buñuel, Luis
Lynch, David Tt4lin Peaks: Fire Walk wlth M e. See
Lynch, D avid "Twin Pea ks Theme." See Badalamenti, A ngelo
Wende rs, Wim, 229n; Paris, Texas, 25 111 ; WillgsofDeúrr:, 229n, 25111; The End ofViolence, 251n
W illis, Sharon, 117,242-43"
Wild at Heart . Sr:e Lynch, Dav id
Wild at H eart (novel). See G ifford,
Barry
Wilder, BilIy: Double Indemmty,
17- 18
Wittgenstein , Ludwig, 225-26n The Wizard ofOz. See F lc ming, Vietor
Wollen, Pcter: Riddlr:s ofthe Sphinx, 22611 W oods, Paul, 13,34
175-76, 235n, 244n. Ser: also H egel,
G. w.F.
Yarda,
Agn ~s ,
226n
ZiZek, Slavoj, 11,76,91,92,147-148,
Powermad : "Slaughterhouse," 117-1 9
Spheeris, Penelope: Waynes World, 10
Ve rhoev cn, Paul: Total Recall, 88
161,202,2°9, 227n, 23 6n ,242n ,
Preston, Janet, 96-97
Spielberg, Steven:jurassie p(l1'k, 24In;
Virgil, 29, 75
25 6n
Pretty Woman. See Marshall, Garry
Sehindlers LiJt, 5
psyehoanalytie film theory, 3
Spinoza, Baruch, 221
psyehosis, 16, 228n
Stagecoach. See Ford , John Star Y,'ck, (,K
Raeek, Cate, 139-40 Redford, Robert: Ordinar}1Peop{e, 23 2-3311
16~
THf IM" O$~ 'U LE DAV IIJ lYN' "
Sta/' WlJ rf . S"r I.m :\~, fkorgc Tlu' ,'ir1 rl/";¡11I S,r¡¡), ,'ic'r I.ynch, Da vid S/II lkfl .\(y 1 .1I~Il\, f v,i\nd r(' i
IN OEX
26'
