On The Impression Of Reality In The Cinema
Thoughts On: Film Lanage, 'On The Impression Of Reality In The Cinema' (1974)
A problematisation of an essay on the representation of reality in art and film.
Reading Christian Metz's opening chapter to Film Language, 'On the Impression of Reality in the Cinema,' I was struck with with a rather persistent irritation. The essay, as the title implies, concerns the illusion, representation or impression of reality in arts and cinema specifically. Metz argues, as so many in the history of film theory have, that film is unique and special because of its ability to capture reality more precisely, closely or effectively than any other art thus far. Metz's discourse on this subject is fascinating and very well composed, but his argument is merely satisfactory. Furthermore, it is entirely undermined by the apparent uselessness of the thinking. Such shall be returned to, but first, let us try represent his argument.
In short, Metz suggests that one of cinema's secrets, one of its unique elements that position it in some way above other arts, is its ability to mediate between too-real representation and unreal representation. Motion, as you may expect, is considered a pivotal component. It is motion in Metz's conception that appears as the most real function of cinema. Though film may always be recognised as a construct, its movement will always appear real. Thus, the reality of narrative diegesis is most convincing. Arts such as photography lack time, and arts such as theatre cannot contain and present time as realistically as cinema. Thus they lack some essential element that an audience is attracted to. Cinema's impression of reality makes it popular and successful; this, one may infer, is the significance of cinema's handling of reality.
Metz writes in the 70s, and thus appears rather naive in contrast to the present day in suggesting that cinema is the optimal medium in regards to the presentation of reality. He appears less naive than the likes of Bazin. But, both speak of impressions of reality in rather unimaginative and confined contexts. What now, in the present day, should we be thinking about cinema's reality with gaming as one of the newest, emerging arts?
Modern games are animated, and so less real in principal than live-action cinema. Alas, they have motion. And where they do not have the ability to directly transpose reality to frames, games have embedded into their fabric an essential and groundbreaking tool for rendering impressions of reality: games can be controlled. Metz argues that motion cannot be felt, which is why it appears so real on film; humans distinguish the real from the simulated often with touch, but cannot do this with motion. Gaming complicates this. Characters move in games, but their motion is controlled by the spectator's/gamer's hand. Thus, movement is a tactile function of the art of gaming. Ever more tactile is movement becoming in the world of games with developing VR, motion sensors and other technology that, within the following decades, will undoubtedly unfold into a new fantastical medium of art/entertainment in which full immersion is the illusion.
What gaming teaches film theorists, in my opinion, is that questions pertaining to visual impressions of reality are irrelevant for the structuralisation of cinema. Indeed, realism needs to be referenced, but it is not a crucial secret of filmic art as Metz suggests. Gaming, especially the immersive branch that has been radically developing in the past few years, shows us that, if one wants to now speak of reality in art, one must think beyond perception and in terms of experience itself. The question now concerns not representing reality, but experiencing it. We have always known this, however. Dating back to the 1900s, filmmakers and exhibitioners have sought ways of making film a more tactile experience. One of the earliest attempts at this involved phantom rides - long camera shots taken from the front of trains being screen in fake train sets. The intention of this exhibition was to elevate representations of reality to immersive experiences of it. Sound served the same function throughout the silent era and, of course, after its demise. Later, 3D and immersive cinema experiences all demonstrate that cinema's concerns with reality all too often involved not impressions of observable spaces, but experiences in tangible places. Modern gaming is furthering this exploration. And it is all too easy to conceive of modern gaming technology being supplanted by chemical and neural technology that would 'represent' reality by manipulating the body's biochemistry in the future. We are already seeing this in very crude forms with VR headsets being linked to vibrating vests and even, of course, 'massage machines.' How will we one day conceive of impressions of reality when narratives can come packed in pills and experienced like a drug-induced 'trip'?
It becomes clear now how frustratingly petty Metz's--or rather the more general--discourse on the representation of perceptual reality appears. What is most important when we consider impressions of reality in art concerns all of the the senses. All too easy do film theorists think of the one sense: sight. Here's a fascinating question: what is more real, sound or the moving image, music or silent cinema? How do we conceive of reality in the sonic realm? This question can be pondered elsewhere. More important is a holistic conception of the senses. How real is cinema really if you cannot taste it? How can we judge its immersive abilities in contrast to theatre without considering this? Perceptually, cinema does well in manifesting an impression of reality that is dexterous and immersive. But, the discourse has been limited to the realm of cinema's technological attributes. In my opinion, so much of this discussion needs to be stowed away and returned to after some more rational and broad theorisation.
Before we can think about perceptual impressions of reality, it must be recognised that there are many ways in which reality may be impressed upon the psyche (many of which cinema has little to no management of), and that, furthermore, reality may not be the most important element of the experience of art.
In my opinion, languages (including the languages of the arts) exist in large part as systems of unique complexity. Language is highly limited; it is limited to a band of being accessible and transparent only to mere human cognition and, furthermore, understanding. The universe, one may postulate, has infinite means of communication. Better than most, archaeologists and astronomers understand this. Archaeologists look at an artefact and, via technology and knowledge, can experience history, can communicate with the ghosts of ancient worlds. This is a prosaic conceptualisation, but it is true. With carbon dating, one uses technology to glean information from carbon decay. The camera uses light to transmit information of the present. This is how it communicates; the carbon dating machine has its technological means of communication. And what about the telescope? The astronomer's telescope can see into the past by receiving light travelling from light-years away bearing the information of a space lost in time, not at all present in one realm, but present in another. How uncanny the perception of reality may be through a telescope. How absurd its communication. Of course, it is not particularly artistic in that the means of communication is not very dexterous and cannot produce something such as a narrative. But, communication is present here as, most fundamentally, information is gleaned from a mode of reception. As humans are all too aware of, we can only glean an infinitesimally small amount of information from the universe. Even the electromagnetic waves our eyes receive exist far beyond out perceptual abilities; we can't see microwaves, infrared rays or radio signals. To understand the universe, we require highly specific modes of communication. It is because of this that the language that emerges from information reception (communication) is impossibly esoteric.
All languages operate on a specific plane of existence and reception that require the transformation of raw reality into a perception of reality. Consider for a moment what it means to be an all-knowing entity, to be able to interact and communicate with all of the data that reality holds. This would require a complete knowledge of all space and time and of every way of perceiving it - which would itself require a body capable of receiving each element of the universe as a defining perceptual agent. One would then not only have to be able to simultaneously see the universe's entire history as one instant function, but be able to perceive reality via a perception of nuclear energy, various electromagnetic energies, quantum fields, etc, etc, etc, and via all possible dimensions. (There are probably a great deal many more factors I cannot know to list). The amount of data that the universe can provide and that can be used as a basis of perception (and therefore language) is beyond astounding. Alas, what consciousness does is take from this infinite pool of data certain information that can be placed into the machinery of cognition. Film does this in only one way. How can we measure this one way's grip on reality? How real can the language of cinema be?
It is not my intention to dismiss all questions by posing a post-modern philosophical conundrum. What I mean to highlight at present is the impracticality of questioning realism in regards to esoteric senses. The universe as interfaced with by the senses is infinite and intangible. One is lead to believe here that language can never be complex enough to deal with reality. Alas, what I have come to experience is that it is not that reality is so complex, rather, it is so simple.
Reality is fundamentally simple, yet manifests such as language are complex. Their complexity is a result of their impracticality and lack of knowledge or capacity, and the universe is too simple to be understood by such elaborate systems. This is something that physicists and scientists of various kinds constantly espouse. What a physicists seeks is not an equation that explains a property of reality, but rather, the most simple and elegant equation that does so. Truth is considered here to be most simple; the principals of reality reducable to an equation mere inches long. We experience this phenomenon of the profoundly simple in every day life, too. The better one becomes at anything, the simpler it appears. This is true of basic processes, such as pressing a sequence of buttons, and it is true from the outsider's perspective; the better someone is as something, the easier they will make it appear. Alas, one often finds that creative processes only appear harder when one learns more about them. This is because what one learns of, say, an instrument, is not closed in a loop, but extant in the realm of potential that an object (such as a guitar) has built into it. Let us not get confused, however. To a being of higher cognition than ourselves, playing an instrument may be as finite a practice as pressing a button; one may imagine the spectrum of human emotion being mapped out and all tones and notes understood as frequencies in resonance with chemical impulses that generate emotion, and thus the playing of an instrument being a mere selection of a few specific properties. In this sense, we may philosophically argue that all things understood are simple. In fact, the process of understanding can be thought of as aligning complex manifestations with basic underlying principals.
This discourse is relevant as it provides a means of limiting the definition of what is real. If reality is fundamentally simple, then it is finite in some aspect. Such a philosophy is embodied by Taoist thinking. At the heart of reality is Tao, the Way. Though this is unknowable to the human mind, it exists simply and finitely as reason and rule underlying all existence. Fascinatingly, though Tao may not be perceived in totality, it has its relationship with the human body. Tao can be experienced via imitative alignment; for example, Lao-Tzu suggests acting without intention. It is the abstraction of intent that allows one to operate as a function of Tao, simple, reasoned, pure, knowledgeable.
All language is something of an imitation, is a mimetic process. Languages, as discussed transpose data from reality into cognition via some means of sensory representation. However, the intent of all language is the same. All forms of communication aim to provide an experience of knowledge. This is what makes language functional and not a pointless, infinitesimal abstraction. If all that can be communicated has one universal basic principal underneath it, then all forms of communication may provide valid pathways towards this. Let us not suggest that this path is easy found and, better still, easy journeyed along. However, if we can conceive of reality as finite and simple in principal, then one can understand that the function of realism in art concerns not linguistic representation and sensory reception, but the provision of experience.
Here we may then take a step backwards. All art forms represent reality differently. Though distinction can be made between their representations of reality, more important is the way in which each respective art generates experience. This is what discourses on realism should be focused on if they are to be at all meaningful. How much does it matter how an art represents reality if sensory representation is infinite, yet its intent finite? All art seeks to provide knowledge of some sort. What one can learn from art, from experience, is practically infinite, but there is a hierarchy of lessons one can learn from the universe. That is to say, there may be one ultimate lesson that encompass all lessons. What this is, we do not know, but art as a linguistic variant seeks to one day articulate this in my opinion. There then exists a narrative singularity that necessitates all art and all mediums as unique attempts of investigating reality via experiences that provide knowledge of its simple essence. Art's faithful representation of reality can be pondered in regards to an experience of great knowledge, but not separately. We have already implied this with reference to gaming. Important is not perceiving reality, but generating affecting experiences. This process, thanks to developing technology, has become more complete and holistic - and strives to become ever more so - but reality is a mere tool. This cannot be emphasised enough. Realism is just one element of communication.
Reality defines a medium of communication. As discussed at length, reality can be measured and perceived via visible light, quantum fluctuations, gravitational pull, sonic vibrations, etc. But, the unit or element of reality utilised is subservient to the experience of knowledge it may provide. I would further posit that the verisimilitudinal aspect of the unit of reality utilised as a perceptual tool is slightly irrelevant. That it to say, far more important than how accurately reality is perceived in art is how profound, intense and simple the experience of knowledge it provides is. Why then worry about what is more believable, painting, photography, theatre or cinema? This is not a rhetorical question - we can ask it inquisitively.
There may be an argument for cinema being the most immerse art form (excluding, possibly, gaming). But, does its ability to immerse the viewer make it more capable of providing an experience of knowledge? In my opinion, not necessarily. Art exists not just as something affecting, but something constructed. Just as important as a film's affecting abilities is then its capacity to make impactful that which is translated via affective material. That is to say, alongside immersion must come a clarity of experience. In some ways, more complete sensory immersion may only cloud the process of experiencing knowledge; just because a film is visual, aesthetically and literally loud and chaotic (therefore immersive - like a Michael Bay movie), it doesn't mean that it will be more profound. Maybe a stick-man drawing can communicate more than an intense 3 hour epic? It is understanding that immersion and clarity are not one and the same, nor causally bound elements, that we can suggest that, whilst cinema may be more immersive than painting (as Metz does) it is not inherently the better medium for communicating via the provision of experience. I certainly believe that cinema is the most fascinating medium and it is one in which I can conceive of the most potential. But, in my view, we do not know the best way of communicating information, especially that of the abstract and profoundly simple kind.
Humans appear cognitively biased toward imagery - film theorists may be quick to arguing this - but this is not necessarily true. In what situation does one learn more, from seeing fire burn someone, or by being burnt themselves? This is a trick question. One learns very different things from both experiences. If one is burnt, they may know what heat and pain feels like. However, if they observe this with various heat-measuring devices, then they may gain quantitative data of a completely different class.
What are we to do with all of these thoughts and implications? It appears too hard to say. We briefly mentioned creative processes previously. The creative process involves the experience of potential. All experiences of potential may somehow and eventually be realised as limited. Alas, art exists not because it is a finite mode of communication, but because it appears rife with potential. If we may suggest that the universe is principally finite and simple, our measurement of art should concern the quality of information gleaned via its communicative, perceptual capacities. The illusion of reality is a minor part of this process - especially when one can problematise any illusion of reality to the point of exhaustion with a discourse on infinite sensory means of interfacing with reality. These many modes of sensory interface need to be explored, and many arts established and explored to their depths, so that their creative potential can be tested and maybe fulfilled. We see this process occur within art with the comings and goings of genres. Genres are one means of probing reality within one medium, and so represent just one shade of its potential abilities. If one thinks of mediums of art like they do genres of mediums, the questions of realism is revealed for what it is - an inanity. More important than realism is experience. The more variations of 'realism,' or simulations of reality, humans have at hand, the greater potential they secure in their quest toward the experience of simplicity. This is as true within a medium of art as it is across mediums.
And such concludes my articulation of the reason why essays such as Metz's On the Impression of Reality in the Cinema frustrates me. What, however, are your thoughts on all we've covered today?
Previous post:
The Blind Side - Orders Of Truth
Next post:
Before The Rain - Pretence & Mimesis
More from me:
amazon.com/author/danielslack
A problematisation of an essay on the representation of reality in art and film.
Reading Christian Metz's opening chapter to Film Language, 'On the Impression of Reality in the Cinema,' I was struck with with a rather persistent irritation. The essay, as the title implies, concerns the illusion, representation or impression of reality in arts and cinema specifically. Metz argues, as so many in the history of film theory have, that film is unique and special because of its ability to capture reality more precisely, closely or effectively than any other art thus far. Metz's discourse on this subject is fascinating and very well composed, but his argument is merely satisfactory. Furthermore, it is entirely undermined by the apparent uselessness of the thinking. Such shall be returned to, but first, let us try represent his argument.
In short, Metz suggests that one of cinema's secrets, one of its unique elements that position it in some way above other arts, is its ability to mediate between too-real representation and unreal representation. Motion, as you may expect, is considered a pivotal component. It is motion in Metz's conception that appears as the most real function of cinema. Though film may always be recognised as a construct, its movement will always appear real. Thus, the reality of narrative diegesis is most convincing. Arts such as photography lack time, and arts such as theatre cannot contain and present time as realistically as cinema. Thus they lack some essential element that an audience is attracted to. Cinema's impression of reality makes it popular and successful; this, one may infer, is the significance of cinema's handling of reality.
Metz writes in the 70s, and thus appears rather naive in contrast to the present day in suggesting that cinema is the optimal medium in regards to the presentation of reality. He appears less naive than the likes of Bazin. But, both speak of impressions of reality in rather unimaginative and confined contexts. What now, in the present day, should we be thinking about cinema's reality with gaming as one of the newest, emerging arts?
Modern games are animated, and so less real in principal than live-action cinema. Alas, they have motion. And where they do not have the ability to directly transpose reality to frames, games have embedded into their fabric an essential and groundbreaking tool for rendering impressions of reality: games can be controlled. Metz argues that motion cannot be felt, which is why it appears so real on film; humans distinguish the real from the simulated often with touch, but cannot do this with motion. Gaming complicates this. Characters move in games, but their motion is controlled by the spectator's/gamer's hand. Thus, movement is a tactile function of the art of gaming. Ever more tactile is movement becoming in the world of games with developing VR, motion sensors and other technology that, within the following decades, will undoubtedly unfold into a new fantastical medium of art/entertainment in which full immersion is the illusion.
What gaming teaches film theorists, in my opinion, is that questions pertaining to visual impressions of reality are irrelevant for the structuralisation of cinema. Indeed, realism needs to be referenced, but it is not a crucial secret of filmic art as Metz suggests. Gaming, especially the immersive branch that has been radically developing in the past few years, shows us that, if one wants to now speak of reality in art, one must think beyond perception and in terms of experience itself. The question now concerns not representing reality, but experiencing it. We have always known this, however. Dating back to the 1900s, filmmakers and exhibitioners have sought ways of making film a more tactile experience. One of the earliest attempts at this involved phantom rides - long camera shots taken from the front of trains being screen in fake train sets. The intention of this exhibition was to elevate representations of reality to immersive experiences of it. Sound served the same function throughout the silent era and, of course, after its demise. Later, 3D and immersive cinema experiences all demonstrate that cinema's concerns with reality all too often involved not impressions of observable spaces, but experiences in tangible places. Modern gaming is furthering this exploration. And it is all too easy to conceive of modern gaming technology being supplanted by chemical and neural technology that would 'represent' reality by manipulating the body's biochemistry in the future. We are already seeing this in very crude forms with VR headsets being linked to vibrating vests and even, of course, 'massage machines.' How will we one day conceive of impressions of reality when narratives can come packed in pills and experienced like a drug-induced 'trip'?
It becomes clear now how frustratingly petty Metz's--or rather the more general--discourse on the representation of perceptual reality appears. What is most important when we consider impressions of reality in art concerns all of the the senses. All too easy do film theorists think of the one sense: sight. Here's a fascinating question: what is more real, sound or the moving image, music or silent cinema? How do we conceive of reality in the sonic realm? This question can be pondered elsewhere. More important is a holistic conception of the senses. How real is cinema really if you cannot taste it? How can we judge its immersive abilities in contrast to theatre without considering this? Perceptually, cinema does well in manifesting an impression of reality that is dexterous and immersive. But, the discourse has been limited to the realm of cinema's technological attributes. In my opinion, so much of this discussion needs to be stowed away and returned to after some more rational and broad theorisation.
Before we can think about perceptual impressions of reality, it must be recognised that there are many ways in which reality may be impressed upon the psyche (many of which cinema has little to no management of), and that, furthermore, reality may not be the most important element of the experience of art.
In my opinion, languages (including the languages of the arts) exist in large part as systems of unique complexity. Language is highly limited; it is limited to a band of being accessible and transparent only to mere human cognition and, furthermore, understanding. The universe, one may postulate, has infinite means of communication. Better than most, archaeologists and astronomers understand this. Archaeologists look at an artefact and, via technology and knowledge, can experience history, can communicate with the ghosts of ancient worlds. This is a prosaic conceptualisation, but it is true. With carbon dating, one uses technology to glean information from carbon decay. The camera uses light to transmit information of the present. This is how it communicates; the carbon dating machine has its technological means of communication. And what about the telescope? The astronomer's telescope can see into the past by receiving light travelling from light-years away bearing the information of a space lost in time, not at all present in one realm, but present in another. How uncanny the perception of reality may be through a telescope. How absurd its communication. Of course, it is not particularly artistic in that the means of communication is not very dexterous and cannot produce something such as a narrative. But, communication is present here as, most fundamentally, information is gleaned from a mode of reception. As humans are all too aware of, we can only glean an infinitesimally small amount of information from the universe. Even the electromagnetic waves our eyes receive exist far beyond out perceptual abilities; we can't see microwaves, infrared rays or radio signals. To understand the universe, we require highly specific modes of communication. It is because of this that the language that emerges from information reception (communication) is impossibly esoteric.
All languages operate on a specific plane of existence and reception that require the transformation of raw reality into a perception of reality. Consider for a moment what it means to be an all-knowing entity, to be able to interact and communicate with all of the data that reality holds. This would require a complete knowledge of all space and time and of every way of perceiving it - which would itself require a body capable of receiving each element of the universe as a defining perceptual agent. One would then not only have to be able to simultaneously see the universe's entire history as one instant function, but be able to perceive reality via a perception of nuclear energy, various electromagnetic energies, quantum fields, etc, etc, etc, and via all possible dimensions. (There are probably a great deal many more factors I cannot know to list). The amount of data that the universe can provide and that can be used as a basis of perception (and therefore language) is beyond astounding. Alas, what consciousness does is take from this infinite pool of data certain information that can be placed into the machinery of cognition. Film does this in only one way. How can we measure this one way's grip on reality? How real can the language of cinema be?
It is not my intention to dismiss all questions by posing a post-modern philosophical conundrum. What I mean to highlight at present is the impracticality of questioning realism in regards to esoteric senses. The universe as interfaced with by the senses is infinite and intangible. One is lead to believe here that language can never be complex enough to deal with reality. Alas, what I have come to experience is that it is not that reality is so complex, rather, it is so simple.
Reality is fundamentally simple, yet manifests such as language are complex. Their complexity is a result of their impracticality and lack of knowledge or capacity, and the universe is too simple to be understood by such elaborate systems. This is something that physicists and scientists of various kinds constantly espouse. What a physicists seeks is not an equation that explains a property of reality, but rather, the most simple and elegant equation that does so. Truth is considered here to be most simple; the principals of reality reducable to an equation mere inches long. We experience this phenomenon of the profoundly simple in every day life, too. The better one becomes at anything, the simpler it appears. This is true of basic processes, such as pressing a sequence of buttons, and it is true from the outsider's perspective; the better someone is as something, the easier they will make it appear. Alas, one often finds that creative processes only appear harder when one learns more about them. This is because what one learns of, say, an instrument, is not closed in a loop, but extant in the realm of potential that an object (such as a guitar) has built into it. Let us not get confused, however. To a being of higher cognition than ourselves, playing an instrument may be as finite a practice as pressing a button; one may imagine the spectrum of human emotion being mapped out and all tones and notes understood as frequencies in resonance with chemical impulses that generate emotion, and thus the playing of an instrument being a mere selection of a few specific properties. In this sense, we may philosophically argue that all things understood are simple. In fact, the process of understanding can be thought of as aligning complex manifestations with basic underlying principals.
This discourse is relevant as it provides a means of limiting the definition of what is real. If reality is fundamentally simple, then it is finite in some aspect. Such a philosophy is embodied by Taoist thinking. At the heart of reality is Tao, the Way. Though this is unknowable to the human mind, it exists simply and finitely as reason and rule underlying all existence. Fascinatingly, though Tao may not be perceived in totality, it has its relationship with the human body. Tao can be experienced via imitative alignment; for example, Lao-Tzu suggests acting without intention. It is the abstraction of intent that allows one to operate as a function of Tao, simple, reasoned, pure, knowledgeable.
All language is something of an imitation, is a mimetic process. Languages, as discussed transpose data from reality into cognition via some means of sensory representation. However, the intent of all language is the same. All forms of communication aim to provide an experience of knowledge. This is what makes language functional and not a pointless, infinitesimal abstraction. If all that can be communicated has one universal basic principal underneath it, then all forms of communication may provide valid pathways towards this. Let us not suggest that this path is easy found and, better still, easy journeyed along. However, if we can conceive of reality as finite and simple in principal, then one can understand that the function of realism in art concerns not linguistic representation and sensory reception, but the provision of experience.
Here we may then take a step backwards. All art forms represent reality differently. Though distinction can be made between their representations of reality, more important is the way in which each respective art generates experience. This is what discourses on realism should be focused on if they are to be at all meaningful. How much does it matter how an art represents reality if sensory representation is infinite, yet its intent finite? All art seeks to provide knowledge of some sort. What one can learn from art, from experience, is practically infinite, but there is a hierarchy of lessons one can learn from the universe. That is to say, there may be one ultimate lesson that encompass all lessons. What this is, we do not know, but art as a linguistic variant seeks to one day articulate this in my opinion. There then exists a narrative singularity that necessitates all art and all mediums as unique attempts of investigating reality via experiences that provide knowledge of its simple essence. Art's faithful representation of reality can be pondered in regards to an experience of great knowledge, but not separately. We have already implied this with reference to gaming. Important is not perceiving reality, but generating affecting experiences. This process, thanks to developing technology, has become more complete and holistic - and strives to become ever more so - but reality is a mere tool. This cannot be emphasised enough. Realism is just one element of communication.
Reality defines a medium of communication. As discussed at length, reality can be measured and perceived via visible light, quantum fluctuations, gravitational pull, sonic vibrations, etc. But, the unit or element of reality utilised is subservient to the experience of knowledge it may provide. I would further posit that the verisimilitudinal aspect of the unit of reality utilised as a perceptual tool is slightly irrelevant. That it to say, far more important than how accurately reality is perceived in art is how profound, intense and simple the experience of knowledge it provides is. Why then worry about what is more believable, painting, photography, theatre or cinema? This is not a rhetorical question - we can ask it inquisitively.
There may be an argument for cinema being the most immerse art form (excluding, possibly, gaming). But, does its ability to immerse the viewer make it more capable of providing an experience of knowledge? In my opinion, not necessarily. Art exists not just as something affecting, but something constructed. Just as important as a film's affecting abilities is then its capacity to make impactful that which is translated via affective material. That is to say, alongside immersion must come a clarity of experience. In some ways, more complete sensory immersion may only cloud the process of experiencing knowledge; just because a film is visual, aesthetically and literally loud and chaotic (therefore immersive - like a Michael Bay movie), it doesn't mean that it will be more profound. Maybe a stick-man drawing can communicate more than an intense 3 hour epic? It is understanding that immersion and clarity are not one and the same, nor causally bound elements, that we can suggest that, whilst cinema may be more immersive than painting (as Metz does) it is not inherently the better medium for communicating via the provision of experience. I certainly believe that cinema is the most fascinating medium and it is one in which I can conceive of the most potential. But, in my view, we do not know the best way of communicating information, especially that of the abstract and profoundly simple kind.
Humans appear cognitively biased toward imagery - film theorists may be quick to arguing this - but this is not necessarily true. In what situation does one learn more, from seeing fire burn someone, or by being burnt themselves? This is a trick question. One learns very different things from both experiences. If one is burnt, they may know what heat and pain feels like. However, if they observe this with various heat-measuring devices, then they may gain quantitative data of a completely different class.
What are we to do with all of these thoughts and implications? It appears too hard to say. We briefly mentioned creative processes previously. The creative process involves the experience of potential. All experiences of potential may somehow and eventually be realised as limited. Alas, art exists not because it is a finite mode of communication, but because it appears rife with potential. If we may suggest that the universe is principally finite and simple, our measurement of art should concern the quality of information gleaned via its communicative, perceptual capacities. The illusion of reality is a minor part of this process - especially when one can problematise any illusion of reality to the point of exhaustion with a discourse on infinite sensory means of interfacing with reality. These many modes of sensory interface need to be explored, and many arts established and explored to their depths, so that their creative potential can be tested and maybe fulfilled. We see this process occur within art with the comings and goings of genres. Genres are one means of probing reality within one medium, and so represent just one shade of its potential abilities. If one thinks of mediums of art like they do genres of mediums, the questions of realism is revealed for what it is - an inanity. More important than realism is experience. The more variations of 'realism,' or simulations of reality, humans have at hand, the greater potential they secure in their quest toward the experience of simplicity. This is as true within a medium of art as it is across mediums.
And such concludes my articulation of the reason why essays such as Metz's On the Impression of Reality in the Cinema frustrates me. What, however, are your thoughts on all we've covered today?
Previous post:
The Blind Side - Orders Of Truth
Next post:
Before The Rain - Pretence & Mimesis
More from me:
amazon.com/author/danielslack
