Its name-the
chronophotographic
gun-spoke noth- ing but the real truth.
Kittler-Gramophone-Film-Typewriter
Following a very practical piece of advice from Bur- roughs's Electronic Revolution,241 Laurie Anderson's voice, distorted as usual on Big Science by a vocoder, simulates the voice of a 747 pilot who uses the plane's speaker system to suddenly interrupt the ongoing enter- tainment program and inform passengers of an imminent crash landing or some other calamity.
Mass interception media like rock music amount to mobilization, which makes them the exact opposite of Benjamin's dis- traction.
242 In 193 6, only the unique "Reichsautozug Deutschland, a mo- torcade consisting of eighty vehicles," was able to "broadcast party con- gresses and mass rallies without any local help by setting up speaker sys- tems on a giant scale, erecting stands, and so on":243 today, the same is achieved night after night by the trucks and kilowatt systems of any rock group.
Filled to the brim with electronics or army equipment, they carry us away to Electric Ladyland.
The theme of love, that production secret of the literature for nonreaders, has run its course.
Rock songs sing of the very media power which sustains them.
Lennon and McCartney's stereo submarine is not the only postwar lyric in the literal sense of the word. The Final Cut, Pink Floyd's last record, was written by Roger Waters (born 1944) for Eric Fletcher Wa- ters (1913-1944), that is, for a victim of a world war. It begins, even be- fore the first sound, with tape cut-ups of news broadcasts (on the Falk- lands, NATO fleet transporters, nuclear power stations), which all simply serve to point out that "postwar," both the word and the thing itself, is a "dream," a distortion made to mollify consumer ears. "Post War Dream" is followed by "The Hero's Return. " The cut-up returns to its origins: when army communication equipment, the precursor of the mass me- dium radio, cuts up the symbolic and the real, orders and corpses. A com- memoration that is the flip side of postwar, love and Muzak.
I I 2
Gramophone
Sweetheart, sweetheart, are you fast asleep, good 'cos that's the only time I can really talk to you and there is something that I've locked away
a memory that is too painful
to withstand the light of day.
When we came back from the war
the banners and flags hung on everyone's door we danced and we sang in the street
and the church bells rang.
But burning in my heart
a memory smoulders on
of the gunner's dying words
on the intercom. 244
Interception, chopping, feedback, and amplification of war reports: "Sympathy for the Devil" means nothing else. Legend has it that the Rolling Stones used cut-up techniques to produce the lyrics for Beggars Banquet. They cut out newspaper headlines, pasted them to the studio wall, and shot at them. Every hit was a line. Anticipating modern statis- tics, the precondition of cut-up and signal processing in general, Novalis remarked: "The individual facts are random events-the combination of random events-their concurrence is itself not subject to chance, but to
laws-a result of the most profound systematic wisdom. "245
Thus, the random distribution of newspaper headlines results in the law of information technology and a martial history of rock music. The devil, whose voice is immortalized by "Sympathy for the Devil," was there when the revolutionaries of St. Petersburg killed the czar and, with their radio transmission "CQ-to all," turned army equipment into global AM radio; he was there when television broadcast both Kennedy assassinations, turned "you and me" into murderers, and exorcised all ra- dio magic. But above all, Lucifer screams out that radio specter, ghost
army, or tank general which VHF and rock music are indebted to:
I rode a tank
held a gen'rals's rank when the blitzkrieg raged and the bodies stank. 246
The blitzkrieg, as is well known, raged from I939 to I94I, when Gude- rian rode his lead tank. The bodies stank longer.
From "War Heroes" to Electric Ladyland: a mnemotechnology of rock music. Nietzsche's gods had yet to receive the sacrifice of language;
? ? ? The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Electric Ladyland, 1968. (Courtesy of Authentic Hendrix, LLC, and MCA Records, Inc. )
"
Tyrnp . Tymp .
1 . 5
Pistol shot
( Let us know when we go {emit erom eno K . O .
(slow speed)
0 . 0 0 . 6
7 . 0
13 . 6
(slow speed)
AND THE GODS MADE LOVE
jet whistle ----------
By
JIM! HENDRIX
I('\t'r['
21 . 0 backward & forward tapes of speech
29 . 8 Harmonics run up and down at high speed
? ? 5. 6
Tyrnp.
I I4 Gramophone
cut-up techniques have done away with that virus. Before Hendrix, the paratrooper of the IOIst Airborne, cuts his machine-gun-like guitar to the title song, tape technology operates for its own sake: tympana, jet engines, pistol shots. Writing can write nothing of that. The Songbook for Electric Ladyland notes the tape's forward and backward motion as well as its changing speed and the test points of a blind but manipulable time. 247 The title on the cover-that which does not cease not to write itself.
? ? ? FILM
? ? Media cross one another in time, which is no longer history. The recording of acoustic data was accomplished with sound tricks, montage, and cuts; it is with film tricks, montage, and cuts that the recording of optical processes began. Since its inception, cinema has been the manipulation of optic nerves and their time. This is proved, among other ways, by the now-prohibited trick of repeatedly splicing individual frames of a Coca- Cola ad into feature films: because its flashlike appearance for 40 millisec- onds reaches the eyes but not consciousness, the audience develops an in- explicable yet irresistible thirst. A cut has undercut its conscious registra- tion. The same is true of film. Beginning with Eastman in r887, when celluloid superseded Daguerre's photographic glass plates and provided the material basis for feature films, such manipulations became feasible. Cinema, in contrast to sound recording, began with reels, cuts, and splices.
It is said that the Lumiere brothers documented simply and inces- santly what their lens could record and what the type of projection they developed could reproduce. Legend has it, however, that Georges Melies, the great film pioneer, ran out of celluloid while shooting a street scene. He left the tripod and camera in position and loaded a new reel, but in the meantime so-called life naturally went on. Viewing the fully spliced film, its director was consequently surprised by the magical appearance and disappearance of figures against a fixed background. Melies, who as former director of the Theatre Robert Houdin had already projected many a magical trick onto the technological screen,l had accidentally also stumbled upon the stop trick. Hence in May r 89 6, " before the eyes of an astonished and dumbfounded audience," he presented "L'Escamotement d'une dame, the disappearance of a woman from the picture. "2 Techno-
logical media (following Villiers and his Edison) liquidate that "great
II5
? 116 Film
? Jean Cocteau, Le Sang d'un poete, 1930.
Lady, Nature," as it had been described, but never viewed, by the nine- teenth century. Woman's sacrifice.
And castration. For what film's first stop tricks did to women only re- peated what the experimental precursors of cinema did to men. Since 1878 Edward Muggeridge (who changed his name to Eadweard Muy- bridge to commemorate old Saxon kings)3 had been experimenting with twelve special cameras on behalf of the California railroad tycoon and university founder, Leland Stanford. The location was Palo Alto, which later saw the invention of the vacuum tube, and the assignment was the recording of movements whose speed exceeded the perception of any painter's eye. Racehorses and sprinters dashed past the individually and sequentially positioned cameras, whose shutters were triggered succes- sively by an electromagnetic device supplied by the San Francisco Tele- graph Supply CompanY-1 millisecond for every 40 milliseconds. 4
With such snapshots (literally speaking) Muybridge's handsome vol- umes on Animal Locomotion were meant to instruct ignorant painters in what motion looks like in real-time analysis. For his serial photographs testified to the imaginary element in human perception, as in the positions of horses' legs on canvas or on English watercolor paper. To speak of cin- ema as Muybridge's historical goal would, however, be inaccurate, since celluloid was not yet available. The technological medium was meant to modernize a venerable art form, as indeed happened when impressionists like Degas copied photographs in their paintings. Hence Stanford Univer- sity's fencers, discus throwers, and wrestlers posed as future models for
Film 117
painters, that is, nude-at least as long as they turned their backs to one of the twelve cameras. In all the milliseconds of frontal shots, however, Muybridge reached one last time for the painter's brush in order to prac- tice (long before Melies) the disappearance of the male anatomy with re- touched gymnastic shorts.
Had they been copied onto celluloid and rolled onto a reel, Muy- bridge's glass plates could have anticipated Edison's kinetoscope, the peephole precursor to the Lumieres' cinematic projection. The astonished visitors to the 1 893 World's Fair in Chicago would then have been witness to the first trick film: the jumpy appearance and disappearance of moral remains, which in the age of cinema approximate the condition of pure image-flickering.
The trick film therefore has no datable origin. The medium's possi- bilities for cutting and splicing assail its own historiography. Hugo Miin- sterberg, the private lecturer at the University of Freiburg whom William James called to the Harvard Psychological Laboratory, clearly recognized this in 1916 in the first history of cinema written by a professor:
It is arbitrary to say where the development of the moving pictures began and it is impossible to foresee where it will lead. What invention marked the beginning? Was it the first device to introduce movement into the pictures on a screen? Or did the development begin with the first photographing of various phases of moving objects? Or did it start with the first presentation of successive pictures at such a speed that the impression of movement resulted? Or was the birthday of the new art when the experimenters for the first time succeeded in projecting such rapidly
passing pictures on a wall? 5
Miinsterberg's questions remain unanswered because the making of films is in principle nothing but cutting and splicing: the chopping up of continuous motion, or history, before the lens. "Discourse," Foucault wrote when he introduced such caesuras into historical methodology it- self, "is snatched from the law of development and established in a dis- continuous atemporality: . . . several eternities succeeding one another, a play of fixed images disappearing in turn, do not constitute either move- ment, time, or history. "6 As if contemporary theories, such as discourse analysis, were defined by the technological a priori of their media.
Methodological dreams flourish in this complication or implication. Theory itself since Freud, Benjamin, and Adorno has attempted to pseudo-metamorphose into film. 7 It is also possible, however, to under- stand technological a prioris in a technological sense. The fact that cuts stood at the beginning of visual data processing but entered acoustic data
rr8 Film
processing only at the end can then be seen as a fundamental difference in terms of our sensory registration. That difference inaugurated the dis- tinction between the imaginary and the real.
The phonograph permitted for the first time the recording of vibra- tions that human ears could not count, human eyes could not see, and writing hands could not catch up with. Edison's simple metal needle, however, could keep up-simply because every sound, even the most complex or polyphonous, one played simultaneously by a hundred musi- cians, formed a single amplitude on the time axis. Put in the plain lan- guage of general sign theory, acoustics is one-dimensional data processing in the lower frequency range. 8
The continuous undulations recorded by the gramophone and the au- diotape as signatures of the real, or raw material, were thus passed on in an equally continuous way by sound engineers. Cutting and splicing would have produced nothing but crackling noises, namely, square-curve jumps. Avoiding them presupposes great skill on the part of recording en- gineers, if not the computer algorithms of digital signal processing. Therefore, when pioneers of the radio play such as Breslau's Walter Bischoff were looking for genuinely "radio-specific" (funkisch) means of expression, they studied the parallel medium of silent films and consid- ered only the fade-out, not the cut, as a possible model: "The man work- ing the amplifier, " as Bischoff argued in Dramaturgy of the Radio Play, "is in charge of a function similar to that of the camera man. He fades in and out, as we say in the absence of a radio-specific terminology. By slowly turning down the condenser at the amplifier, he lets the scene, the finished sequence of events, fade into the background, just as he can, by gradually turning the condenser up, give increasing form and shape to the next acoustic sequence. "9 By following such continuity, which is diamet- rically opposed to the film cut, things worked well for thirty years. But ever since VHF radio began transmitting stereophonically, that is, two amplitudes per unit of time, fade-outs have been "more difficult to exe- cute": "the mise-en-scene, invisible yet localizable, cannot be dismantled and replaced by a new one in front of the listener as easily as in the case of a monophonic play. "lo Once tethered, such are the constraints pro- duced by the real.
For one thing, optical data flows are two-dimensional; for another, they consist of high frequencies. Not two but thousands of units of light per unit of time must be transmitted in order to present the eye with a two- or even three-dimensional image. That requires an exponential mag- nification of processing capacities. And since light waves are electromag-
Film 119
netic frequencies in the terahertz range, that is, a trillion times faster than concert pitch (A), they outpace not only human writing hands but even (unbelievably) today's electronics.
Two reasons why film is not directly linked to the real. Instead of recording physical waves, generally speaking it only stores their chemical effects on its negatives. Optical signal processing in real time remains a thing of the future. And even if, following Rudolph Lothar's rather timely metaphysics of the heart, everything from sound to light is a wave (or hertz),ll optical waves still don't have a storage or computing medium- not, at any rate, until fiber technologies running at the speed of light have put today's semiconductors out of business.
A medium that is unable to trace the amplitudes of its input data is permitted a priori to perform cuts. Otherwise, there would be no data. Since Muybridge's experimental arrangement, all film sequences have been scans, excerpts, selections. And every cinematic aesthetic has devel- oped from the 24-frame-per-second shot, which was later standardized. Stop trick and montage, slow motion and time lapse only translate tech- nology into the desires of the audience. As phantasms of our deluded eyes, cuts reproduce the continuities and regularities of motion. Phonog- raphy and feature film correspond to one another as do the real and the Imagmary.
But this imaginary realm had to be conquered. The path of invention, from Muybridge's first serial photographs to Edison's kinetoscope and the Lumiere brothers, does not merely presuppose the existence of celluloid. In the age of organic life stories (as poetry) and organic world histories (as philosophy), even in the age of mathematical continuity, caesuras first had to be postulated. Aside from the material precondition, the spliceable celluloid, there was a scientific one: the system of possible deceptions of the eye had to be converted from a type of knowledge specific to illusion- ists and magicians (such as Houdini) to one shared by physiologists and engineers. Just as the phonograph (Villiers de l'Isle-Adam notwithstand- ing) became possible only after acoustics had been made an object of sci- entific investigation, so "cinematography would never have been in- vented " had not " researchers been occupied with the consequences of the stroboscopic effect and afterimages. "12
Afterimages, which are much more common and familiar than the stroboscopic effect, were already present in Goethe's Theory of Colors- but only, as in Wilhelm Meister's Years ofApprenticeship, to illustrate the effects of Classic-Romantic literature on souls: a woman hovers in front
120 Film
of the inner eye of the hero or the readers as the optical model of perfect alphabetization, even though her beauty simply cannot be recorded in words. Wilhelm Meister observes to himself and his like-minded readers, "If you close your eyes, she will present herself to you; if you open them, she will hover before' all objects like the manifestation which a dazzling image leaves behind in the eye. Was not the quickly passing figure of the Amazon ever present in your imagination? "13 For Novalis, imagination was the miraculous sense that could replace for readers all of their senses.
At least as long as Goethe and his Theory of Colors were alive. For it was Fechner who first examined the afterimage effect with experimental rigor. Experimenter and subject in one, he stared into the sun-with the result that he went blind in 1839 for three years and had to resign from his physics chair at the University of Leipzig. The historical step from psy- chology to psychophysics (Fechner's beautiful neologism) was as conse- quential as the emergence of modern media from the physiological hand- icaps of its researchers was literal.
No wonder, then, that the aesthetics of the afterimage effect is also due to a half-blind person. Nietzsche, the philosopher with -14 diop- ters,14 produced a film theory before its time under the pretext of de- scribing both The Birth of Tragedy in ancient Greece and its German re- birth in the mass spectacles of Wagner. 15 In Nietzsche, the theater perfor- mances that were produced in the shadeless midday sun of an Attic setting were transformed into the hallucinations of inebriated or vision- ary spectators, whose optic nerves quite unconsciously processed white- and-black film negatives into black-and-white film positives: "After an en- ergetic attempt to focus on the sun, we have, by way of remedy almost, dark spots before our eyes when we turn away. Conversely, the luminous images of the Sophoclean heroes-those Apollonian masks-are the nec- essary productions of a deep look into the horror of nature; luminous spots, as it were, designed to cure an eye hurt by the ghastly night. "16
Prior to Fechner's historical self-experiment, blinding was not a mat- ter of desire. An eye hurt by the ghastly night that requires for its remedy inverted afterimage effects is no longer directed toward the stage of the Attic amphitheater but onto the black surface of soon-to-come movie screens, as the Lumiere brothers will develop them in defiance of their name. Nietzsche's ghastly night is the first attempt to christen sensory de- privation as the background to and other of all technological mediaY That the flow of data takes place at all is the elementary fact of Nietz- sche's aesthetic, which renders interpretations, reflections, and valuations of individual beauty (and hence everything Apollonian) secondary. If "the
Film 121
world" can be "justified to all eternity . . . only as an aesthetic product,"18 it is simply because "luminous images" obliterate a remorseless blackness. The Nietzsche movie called Oedipus is technological enough to pre- date the innovation of the Lumieres by a quarter century. According to The Birth ofTragedy, a tragic hero, as inebriated spectators visually hal- lucinate him, is "at bottom no more than a luminous shape projected onto a dark wall, that is to say, appearance through and through. "19 It is pre- cisely this dark wall, which allows actors to turn into the imaginary, or film stars, in the first place, that has been opening theater performances since 1 8 7 6, the year of the inauguration of the theater in Bayreuth, whose prophecy The Birth of Tragedy undertook. Wagner did what no drama- turg before him had dared to do (simply because certain spectators in- sisted on the feudal privilege of being as visible as the actors themselves): during opening night, he began The Ring ofthe Nibelung in total dark- ness, before gradually turning on the ( as yet novel) gaslights. Not even the presence of an emperor, Wilhelm I, prevented Wagner from reducing his audience to an invisible mass sociology and the bodies of actors (such as the Rhine maidens) to visual hallucinations or afterimages against the background of darkness. 2o The cut separating theater arts and media tech- nologies could not be delineated more precisely. Which is why all movie theaters, at the beginning of their screenings, reproduce Wagner's cosmic sunrise emerging from primordial darkness. A 1913 movie theater in Mannheim, as we know from the first sociology of cinema, used the slo-
gan, "Come in, our movie theater is the darkest in the whole city! "21 Already in 1 89 1 , four years prior to the projection screen of the Lu- miere brothers, Bayreuth was technologically up to date. Not for nothing did Wagner joke that he would have to complete his invention of an in- visible orchestra by inventing invisible actors. 22 Hence his son-in-law, the subsequently notorious Chamberlain, planned the performance of sym- phonies by Liszt that would have become pure feature films with equally pure film music: accompanied by the sound of an orchestra sunk in Wag- nerian fashion, and situated in a "nightclad room," a camera obscura was supposed to project moving pictures against a "background" until all spectators fell into "ecstasies. "23 Such enchantments were unthinkable with old-fashioned viewing: eyes did not mix up statues or paintings, or the bodies of actors, for that matter-those basic stage props of the es- tablished arts-with their own retinal processes. Thanks only to Cham- berlain's plans and their global dissemination by Hollywood, the physio- logical theory of perception becomes applied perceptual practice: movie- goers, following Edgar Morin's brilliant formulation, "respond to the
1 22 Film
projection screen like a retina inverted to the outside that is remotely con- nected to the brain. "24 And each image leaves an afterimage.
In order to implement the stroboscopic effect, the second theoretical condition of cinema, with the same precision, one needs only to illumi- nate moving objects with one of the light sources that have become om- nipresent and omnipotent since the 1 890S. As is widely known, back then Westinghouse won out over Edison, alternating current over direct cur- rent, as a public utility. The glow of light alternates fifty times per second in European lightbulbs, sixty times in American ones: the uncomplicated, and hence imperceptible, rhythm of our evenings and of an antenna called the body.
The stroboscopic illumination transforms the continuous flow of movement into interferences, or moires, as can be seen in the wheeling spokes of every Western. This second and imaginary continuity evolved from discontinuity, a discovery that was first made by physiologists dur- ing the founding age of modern media. We owe a large part of the theory of alternating current to Faraday, as well as to the study On a Peculiar Class of Optical Deceptions ( 1 83 I ). 25 Coupled with the afterimage effect, Faraday'S stroboscopic effect became the necessary and sufficient condi- tion for the illusions of cinema. One only had to automatize the cutting mechanism, cover the film reel with a wing disk between moments of ex- posure and with a Maltese cross during moments of projection, and the eye saw seamless motion rather than 24 single and still shots. One perfo- rated rotating disk during the recording and projection of pictures made possible the film trick preceding all film tricks.
Chopping or cutting in the real, fusion or flow in the imaginary-the entire research history of cinema revolves only around this paradox. The problem of undermining the threshold of audience perception through Faraday's "deceptions" reflected the inverse problem of undermining the threshold of perception of psychophysics itself to avoid disappointment or reality. Because real motion (above and beyond optical illusions) was to become recordable, the prehistory of the cinema began exactly as that of the gramophone. Etienne-Jules Marey, professor of natural history at the College de France in Paris, and later (following his successful film experi- ments) president of the French photographic society,16 earned his initial fame with a sphygmograph copied from the work of German physiologists that was capable of recording pulse rates onto soot-covered glass plates as curves. 27 In the same way, Weber and Scott had mechanically stored sounds (musical intervals themselves) that were not acoustic illusions.
Beginning with heart muscle contractions, Marey investigated move-
? Marey's chronophotographic gun.
ment in general. His chronographic experiments on humans, animals, birds-published as La machine animaIe (1873), a title that does justice to La Mettrie-inspired Governor Stanford of California to give Muy- bridge his assignment. The professional photographer only had to replace Marey's mechanized form of trace detection with a more appropriate, or professional, optical one-and where eyes had always seen only poetic
Film 123
? 1 24 Film
wing-flaps could begin the analysis of the flight of birds, the precondition for all future aircraft constructions. It was no coincidence that pioneers of photography such as Nadar opted against the montgolfieres of 1783 and in favor of literal airships: for flying machines heavier than air. 2s "Cinema Isn't I See, It's I Fly,"29 says Virilio's War and Cinema, in view of the historically perfect collusion of world wars, reconnaissance squad- rons, and cinematography.
In the meantime, the first photographs from Animal Locomotion had hardly appeared when Marey began work on improving Muybridge's im- provement of his own work. The time was ripe for engineers to work to- gether, for innovations of innovations. Marey also stored motion opti- cally, but he reduced the number of cameras from the twelve of his pre- decessor to one and constructed-first with fixed photo glass plates, and, from 1 8 8 8 on, with modern celluloid30-the first serial-shot camera. In- stead of indulging in what Pynchon called "the American vice of modular repetition,"31 he realized that for moving objects, a single, movable appa- ratus was enough.
Its name-the chronophotographic gun-spoke noth- ing but the real truth.
It was in 1 8 6 1 , whilst traveling on a paddle-steamer and watching its wheel, that the future Colonel Gatling hit upon the idea of a cylindrical, crank-driven ma- chine gun. In 1 8 74 the Frenchman Jules Janssen took inspiration from the multi- chambered Colt (patented in 1832) to invent an astronomical revolving unit that could take a series of photographs [when attached to a telescope]. On the basis of this idea, Etienne-Jules Marey then perfected his chronophotographic rifle, which allowed its user to aim at and photograph an object moving through space. 32
The history of the movie camera thus coincides with the history of automatic weapons. The transport of pictures only repeats the transport of bullets. In order to focus on and fix objects moving through space, such as people, there are two procedures: to shoot and to film. In the principle of cinema resides mechanized death as it was invented in the nineteenth century: the death no longer of one's immediate opponent but of serial nonhumans. Colt's revolver aimed at hordes of Indians, Gatling's or Maxim's machine-gun (at least that is what they had originally been de- signed to do) at aboriginal peoples. 33
With the chronophotographic gun, mechanized death was perfected: its transmission coincided with its storage. What the machine gun anni- hilated the camera made immortal. During the war in Vietnam, U. S. Ma- rine Corps divisions were willing to engage in action and death only when TV crews from ABC, CBS, and NBC were on location. Film is an immea-
? Andre Malraux, Espoir.
surable expansion of the realms of the dead, during and even before bul- lets hit their targets. A single machine-gun (according to JUnger's obser- vation on Der Arbeiter) finishes off the fraternity-based heroism of entire Langemarck regiments of 1914;34 a single camera does the same with the dying scenes thereafter.
It was then only a matter of combining the procedures of shooting and filming to take Marey's brand name literally. The chronophotographic gun became reality in the cinema of artificial, that is, lethal, bird flights. Reconnaissance pilots of the First World War such as Richard Garros con- structed an on-board machine-gun whose barrel was pointed parallel to the axis of the propeller while they filmed its effects. 35 During the Second World War, which according to General von Fritsch was supposed to have been won by superior reconnaissance, "the construction of recording de- vices within aircraft yielded still better results. " Major General von Wedel, chief of Army Propaganda, was "especially delighted that Inspector Tan- nenberg was successful in having developed a camera unit that could be built into fighter planes, Stukas, and other aircraft and that, synchronized with the weapon, made possible very impressive combat pictures. "36
As if targeting Inspector Tannenberg and his appropriate name,37 Pyn-
Film 125
? ? '7
Ernst Mach, freeze-frame photos of bullets.
Film 127
chon describes in Gravity's Rainbow "this strange connection between the German mind and the rapid flashing of successive stills to counterfeit movement, for at least two centuries-since Leibniz, in the process of in- venting calculus, used the same approach to break up the trajectories of cannonballs through the air. "38 That is how venerable (in strict accordance with Munsterberg) the prehistory of cinema is. But it makes a difference whether ballistic analysis appears on the paper of a mathematician or on celluloid. Only freeze-frame photographs of flying projectiles, developed in 1 8 8 5 by one no less than Ernst Mach, made visible all interferences, or moin? s, in the medium of the air. Only freeze-frame photographs run au- tomatically and as real-time analysis (since then, TV cameras have re- duced the processing time of pictures to near-zero). Which is why Inspec- tor Tannenberg's propaganda weapon still had or has a future: toward the end of the Second World War, when even 8. 8 millimeter anti-aircraft guns with their teams of operators were ineffective against the Allied carpet bombings of Germany, the first developments toward our strategic present took place-the search by technicians for weapons systems with auto- matic target searching. 39 The chronophotograph was made for that.
Built into aircraft, TV cameras or infrared sensors are no longer the owls of Minerva, lagging behind so-called real history like Hegel's nightly philosophy. The kinds of infinitesimal movement they process through in- tegration and differentiation are much more efficient: with servomotors electrically linked to a missile guidance system, they can hone in on the enemy target. Until camera and target, intercept missile and fighter air- craft, explode in a flash of lightning, a blitz.
Today's cruise missiles proceed in the same fashion, for they compare a built-in film of Europe's topography (from Hessia to Belarus, from Sicily to Ukraine) with their actual flight path in order to correct any possible deviations. Marey's chronophotographic gun has reached its target in all its senses. When a camera blows up two weapons systems simultaneously, and more elegantly than kamikaze pilots did, the analysis and synthesis of movement have become one.
At the end of Gravity's Rainbow, a V2-the first cruise missile in the history of warfare, developed at the Peenemunde Army Test Site-ex- plodes over the Orpheus movie theater in Los Angeles. In grandiose time axis manipulation, which a fictitious drug by the name of Oneirine grants the whole novel,40 the launch is correctly dated March 1945, but the rocket does not hit its target until 1970, when the novel was written. That is how interminably world wars go on, not least because of German- American technological transfer. The off-ground detonator of the V2
128 Film
kicks in, and a ton of Amatol, the rocket's payload, explodes. Shortly thereafter, the image on the screen dissolves, as if the projection bulb were blowing out, but only so that its orphic truth can shine forth. We, "old fans, who've always been at the movies," are finally reached by a film "we have not learned to see"41 but have been hankering after since Muybridge and Marey: the melding of cinema and war.
Nothing, therefore, prevented the weapons-system movie camera from aiming at humans as well. On the three fronts of war, disease, and crimi- nality-the maj or lines of combat of every invasion by media-serial pho- tography entered into everyday life in order to bring about new bodies.
As is widely known, during the First World War the barrels of ma- chine-guns moved away from the black, yellow, and red skins against which they had been developed and started aiming at white targets. Movie cameras, however, kept pace and experienced a boom that might have been a misuse of army property (as with AM radio). At any rate, Miinsterberg, who had to know about it, since he sought to prevent the outbreak of the German-American war in futile fireside chats with Presi- dent Wilson up to the very end (and who, for that reason, remains unac- knowledged by his colleagues at Harvard to this very day)42-Miinster- berg wrote in 19 16:
It is claimed that the producers in America disliked these topical pictures because the accidental character of the events makes the production irregular and inter- feres too much with the steady preparation of the photoplays. Only when the war broke out, the great wave of excitement swept away this apathy. The pictures from the trenches, the marches of the troops, the life of the prisoners, the move- ments of the leaders, the busy life behind the front, and the action of the big guns absorbed the popular interest in every corner of the world. While the picturesque old-time war reporter has almost disappeared, the moving picture man has inher- ited all his courage, patience, sensationalism, and spirit of adventure. 43
And as with the reporters, so with the stars of the new medium. Shortly after the trench war, when the Soul of the Cinema was in demand again, Dr. Walter Bloem, S. ]. , explained what was at the center of the sen- sationalism critiqued by Miinsterberg: "During the war, film actors busily studied the thousands of dead, the results of which we can now admire on the screen. "44
Since April 19 1 7, the founding days of radio entertainment for army radio operators as well, such studies had been resting on a solid founda- tion. The chiefs of the new Army High Command, Hindenburg and Lu-
Film 129
dendorff, were serious about total war, and for that reason (among oth- ers) they advanced to the top of Germany's film directors. What evolved in the Grand General Staff was a Bureau of Pictures and Film [BUFA; Bild- und Filmamt] "whose founding and mode of operation was kept rather secret. " Still, it is known that the bureau's "range of operations" included "supplying the inland and the front with films, setting up field movie theaters, the placement of war reporters, . . . censoring all films to be imported and exported, as well as providing all censoring agencies with instructions from the governing military censorship authorities. "45
The way Ludendorff justified these changes is more than just memo- rable; it has made film history. A memo by the general quartermaster led via the chain of command to the founding of the UFA. As a major corpo- ration, UFA was to take over the classified assignments of the Bureau of Pictures and Film in a much more public and efficient way-from the end of the First World War until, as is widely known, the end of the Second:
Chief of the General Staff of the Army. HQ. 4 July 19 1 7 M. ]. No. 208SIP.
To the
Imperial War Ministry Berlin
The war has demonstrated the overwhelming power of images and films as a form of reconnaissance and persuasion. Unfortunately, our enemies have exploited their know-how in this area so thoroughly that we have suffered severe damage. Even for the more distant continuation of the war, film will not lose its significance as a political and military means of influence. Precisely for that reason, for a successful conclusion to the war it is absolutely imperative that film have a maximal effect in those areas where German intervention is still possible.
signed Ludendorff46
Thus, film as a means of reconnaissance and persuasion has been ex- plained, or reconnoitered, in the strictest (that is, military) sense of the term. The path leads, as with radio, from interception to reception and mass mediality. And Ludendorff donated 900 of his movie theaters at the front to this reception, making it possible to decode Lieutenant ]Unger's
Combat as Inner Experience.
Positional warfare prohibits inner experience in Goethean terms, that is, sensory substitutions between the lines of literature. In both his title and his subject, Junger announces a very different type of sensuousness: "When red life clashes against the black cliffs of death, what we get are sharp pictures composed of bright colors. . . . There is no time to read
I30 Film
one's Werther with teary eyes. "47 For media-technological reasons, poetry comes to an end in the trenches, those "pure brainmills": "This failure even appears to be a matter of writing," says a fellow officer and friend of Junger whose "intellectual faculties, in the daily rhythm between watch duty and sleep, gradually dwindle toward zero. " Which the troop leader and recipient of the Ordre pour Ie Merite demonstrates and con- firms with his telegram-style answer, "that this war is a chokehold on our literature. " 48
But ghosts, a. k. a. media, cannot die at all. Where one stops, another somewhere begins. Literature dies not in the no-man's-land between the trenches but in that of technological reproducibility. Again and again, Lieutenant Junger asserts how completely the inner experience of the bat- tle has become a matter of neurophysiology. After the "baptism by fire" of I9I4, soldiers had become "so cerebral that the landscape and the events, in retrospect, managed to escape from memory only as dark and dreamlike shadows. "49 Even more clearly, and in terms of radio: "Every brain, from the simplest to the most complicated, vibrated with the waves of the monstrous, which propagated itself over the landscape. "5o The war, even though "it was so palpable, and rested heavily, like lead, on our senses"-as when, for example, "an abandoned group traversed un- known territory under the canopy of night"-was hence and simultane- ously "perhaps only a phantasm of our brains. "51
Brain phantasms, however, "glowing visions"52 that "burden anxious brains"53 like the trenches: they exist only as the correlatives to techno- logical media. The soul becomes a neurophysiological apparatus only when the end of literature draws near. Hence, the "screams from the dark" that "touch the soul most immediately, . . . since all languages and poets, by contrast, are only stammerings," combine the "clamor of fight- ers" with "the automatic play of the barrel-organ. "54 And as with acoustics, so with the optics of war: "Once again, one's individual expe- rience, the individual, . . . was compressed, once again the colorful world rolled like a swift film through the brain. "55
In the days of the founding age of modern media, the neurologist Benedict described how the dying visualize their past as time-lapse pho- tography. Lieutenant Junger could do this without pseudomorphosis. Af- ter one of his "fourteen"56 war injuries, he was, for purposes of reconva- lescence, relocated to Douchy, a village and communications site in Flan- ders, "the headquarters of the 73d [light-infantry regiment]. "57 "There was a reading room, a cafe, and later even a cinema in a large barn skill- fully converted. "58
Film 131
Only in Storm of Steel, his fact-based Diary of a German Storm- Troop Officer, does JUnger speak of the BUFA and its work: "supplying the inland and the front with films, setting up field movie theaters," and so on. In Combat as Inner Experience, this hymn to the trench worker, he does not so much ignore media technology as translate its effects expres- sionistically. Writing itself relocates in the projection room of Douchy. That is why and why alone "the blossoms of the world, blinding and be- numbing, cities on waters of light, southern coasts where blue waves washed against the shore, women cast in satin, queens of boulevards," and the whole range of feature-film archives of inner experiences, " opened themselves" up to the "wandering brains"59 of soldiers in the trenches, even in their darkest moments of sensory deprivation.
One year before the outbreak of the war, Kurth Pinthus's Movie Book announced: "One has to get used to the thought that kitsch will never be eliminated from the world of humans. After we've been trying for decades to get rid of kitsch in the theater, it resurfaces in cinema. And one is led to believe that the masses have found the kitsch expelled from the stage somewhere else. "60
In a world war, for example: "All hearts pound with excitement when the armies of soldiers line up for battle with desperately harsh faces; when grenades burst, releasing a shower of smoke; and when the camera relentlessly traverses the battlefield, ingesting the stiff and muti- lated bodies of senselessly killed warriors. "61
A prophecy that Junger, the mythic war reporter, realizes or recog- nizes. To recognize combat as an inner experience means (following Lu- dendorff) understanding that the use of film "in those areas where Ger- man intervention is still possible" is "absolutely imperative . . . for a suc- cessful conclusion to the war. " For although historical prose suggests, as is widely known, that the other side won, Junger's camera style drives for- ward German attacks again and again, only to freeze the continuation of history or the movies in a last still. In the final analysis, such a film trick becomes possible simply because in mechanized warfare, machine-gun operators kill without seeing any corpses,62 and storm troopers-Luden- dorff's newly formed precursors to the blitzkrieg63-storm without seeing into enemy trenches.
That is why the British, when their attack tears Junger out of his filmic "castle in the air," appear only "for one second . . . like a vision en- graved . . . on my eyes. "64 That is why the novel succeeds in letting its end, its goal and wish fulfillment-namely, the failed Ludendorff offen- sive of "March 21, 1918"65-succeed in the world of hallucination. As a
? 132 Film
camera shot, and after "an eternity in the trenches,"66 an attack is noth- ing short of redemption:
Only rarely does the enemy appear to us . . . in flesh and blood, even though we are separated only by a narrow, torn-up field strip. We've been hunkering down in the trenches for weeks and months, swarms of projectiles showering down upon us, surrounded by thunderstorms. It happens that we almost forget we are fight- ing against human beings. The enemy manifests itself as the unfolding of a gigan- tic, impersonal power, as fate that thrusts its fist into the unseen.
When we storm forward and climb out of the trenches, and we see the empty, unknown land in front of us where death goes about its business between flaring columns of smoke, it appears as if a new dimension has opened up to us. Then we suddenly see up close, in camouflage coats and in faces covered with mud like a ghostly apparition, what awaits us in the land of the dead: the enemy. That is an unforgettable moment.
How differently one had envisioned the scene. The blooming edge of a for- est, a flowery meadow, and guns banging into the spring. Death as a flurrying back and forth between the two trench lines of twenty-year-olds. Dark blood on green blades of grass, bayonets in the morning light, trumpets and flags, a happy, shimmering dance. 67
But contemporary technologies of the body have done their duty, in military as well as choreographic terms. When war and cinema coincide, a communications zone becomes the front, the medium of propaganda becomes perception, and the movie theater of Douchy the scheme or schemes for an otherwise invisible enemy. "When our storm signals flash across, [the English] get ready for a wrestling match about bits and pieces of trenches, forests, and the edge of villages. But when we clash in the haze of fire and smoke, then we become one, then we become two parts of one force, fused into one body. "68 Lieutenant Junger meets his imagi- nary other, as Lacan will define it in 193 6: as a mirror image that might restore the body of the soldier, dismembered fourteen times, back to wholeness. 69 If only were there no war and the other not a doppelganger. For "all cruelty, all the compilation of the most ingenious brutalities, can- not fill a human being with as much horror as the momentary apparition of his mirror image appearing in front of him, [with] all the fiery marks of prehistory reflected in his distorted face. "70
]Unger's film breaks off at precisely this image, long before Gravity's Rainbow ends in the blackout of a real or filmed rocket hit above Uni- versal Studios of California. For once the enemy was recognized as a dop- pelganger, "then, in the last fire, the dark curtain of horror may well have
? Film I33
lifted in the brains, but what was behind, lying in wait, the rigid mouth could no longer speak. "71
Ludendorff and Jiinger's falling storm troopers are silent, either be- cause (following a hermeneutic tautology) they are falling, or because (following a media-technological analysis) their a priori is the silent film. Now, however, we have war films with sound that can spell out the puz- zle behind the dark curtain of horror. What was lying in wait were first of all facts that Jiinger systematically bypassed: the failure of the Luden- dorff offensive, the retreat to the Siegfried position, and capitulation. Sec- ond, and more horrific still, the film doppelganger harbored the possibil- ity of fiction. A cinematic war may not even take place at all. Invisible en- emies that materialize only for seconds and as ghostly apparitions can hardly be said any longer to be killed: they are protected from death by the false immortality of ghosts.
In Gravity's Rainbow, the novel about the Second World War itself, GI von Held asks celebrated film director Gerhardt von Gall (alias Springer, Lubitsch, Pabst, etc. ) about the fate of a German rocket technologist who had fallen into the hands of the Red Army:
"But what if they did shoot him ? "
"No. They weren't supposed to. "
"Springer. This ain't the fucking movies now, come on. "
"Not yet. Maybe not quite yet. You'd better enjoy it while you can. Someday,
when the film is fast enough, the equipment pocket-size and burdenless and selling at people's prices, the lights and booms no longer necessary, then . . . then. . . "72
Total use of media instead of total literacy: sound film and video cam- eras as mass entertainment liquidate the real event. In Storm of Steel no- body except for the diary keeper survives, in Gravity's Rainbow all the people pronounced dead return, even the rocket technician of Peene- munde. Under the influence of the fictitious drug Oneirine, the writing of world-war novels turns into movie fiction.
It is widely known that war-from the sandbox models of the Prus- sian General Staff to the computer games of the Americans-has become increasingly simulable. "But there, too," as these same general staffs wisely recognized, "the last question remains unanswered, because death and the enemy cannot 'be factored in realistically. "'73 Friedlaender, media-techno- logically as always, has drawn from this the daring, inverted conclusion: for death in battle to coincide with cinema would be its own death.
134 Film
SALOMa FRIEDLAENDER, "FATA MORGANA MACHINE" (CA. 1920)
For many years Professor Pschorr had been preoccupied with one of the most interesting problems of film: his ideal was to achieve the optical repro- duction of nature, art, and fantasy through a stereoscopic projection appa- ratus that would place its three-dimensional constructs into space without the aid of a projection screen. Up to this point, film and other forms of pho- tography had been pursued only in one-eyed fashion. Pschorr used stereo- scopic double lenses everywhere and, eventually, indeed achieved three- dimensional constructs that were detached from the surface of the projec- tion screen. When he had come that close to his ideal, he approached the Minister of War to lecture him about it. " But my dear Professor," the Min- ister smiled, "what has your apparatus got to do with our technology of maneuvers and war ? " The Professor looked at him with astonishment and imperceptibly shook his inventive head. It was incredible to him that the Minister did not have the foresight to recognize how important that appara- tus was destined to become in times of war and peace. "Dear Minister, " he insisted, "would you permit me to take some shots of the maneuver so that you can convince yourself of the advantages of my apparatus ? " "I'd rather
not," the Minister contemplated, "but you are trustworthy. You know the dangerous article on high treason, of course, and will surely keep the se- cret. " He granted the Professor unlimited access.
Lennon and McCartney's stereo submarine is not the only postwar lyric in the literal sense of the word. The Final Cut, Pink Floyd's last record, was written by Roger Waters (born 1944) for Eric Fletcher Wa- ters (1913-1944), that is, for a victim of a world war. It begins, even be- fore the first sound, with tape cut-ups of news broadcasts (on the Falk- lands, NATO fleet transporters, nuclear power stations), which all simply serve to point out that "postwar," both the word and the thing itself, is a "dream," a distortion made to mollify consumer ears. "Post War Dream" is followed by "The Hero's Return. " The cut-up returns to its origins: when army communication equipment, the precursor of the mass me- dium radio, cuts up the symbolic and the real, orders and corpses. A com- memoration that is the flip side of postwar, love and Muzak.
I I 2
Gramophone
Sweetheart, sweetheart, are you fast asleep, good 'cos that's the only time I can really talk to you and there is something that I've locked away
a memory that is too painful
to withstand the light of day.
When we came back from the war
the banners and flags hung on everyone's door we danced and we sang in the street
and the church bells rang.
But burning in my heart
a memory smoulders on
of the gunner's dying words
on the intercom. 244
Interception, chopping, feedback, and amplification of war reports: "Sympathy for the Devil" means nothing else. Legend has it that the Rolling Stones used cut-up techniques to produce the lyrics for Beggars Banquet. They cut out newspaper headlines, pasted them to the studio wall, and shot at them. Every hit was a line. Anticipating modern statis- tics, the precondition of cut-up and signal processing in general, Novalis remarked: "The individual facts are random events-the combination of random events-their concurrence is itself not subject to chance, but to
laws-a result of the most profound systematic wisdom. "245
Thus, the random distribution of newspaper headlines results in the law of information technology and a martial history of rock music. The devil, whose voice is immortalized by "Sympathy for the Devil," was there when the revolutionaries of St. Petersburg killed the czar and, with their radio transmission "CQ-to all," turned army equipment into global AM radio; he was there when television broadcast both Kennedy assassinations, turned "you and me" into murderers, and exorcised all ra- dio magic. But above all, Lucifer screams out that radio specter, ghost
army, or tank general which VHF and rock music are indebted to:
I rode a tank
held a gen'rals's rank when the blitzkrieg raged and the bodies stank. 246
The blitzkrieg, as is well known, raged from I939 to I94I, when Gude- rian rode his lead tank. The bodies stank longer.
From "War Heroes" to Electric Ladyland: a mnemotechnology of rock music. Nietzsche's gods had yet to receive the sacrifice of language;
? ? ? The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Electric Ladyland, 1968. (Courtesy of Authentic Hendrix, LLC, and MCA Records, Inc. )
"
Tyrnp . Tymp .
1 . 5
Pistol shot
( Let us know when we go {emit erom eno K . O .
(slow speed)
0 . 0 0 . 6
7 . 0
13 . 6
(slow speed)
AND THE GODS MADE LOVE
jet whistle ----------
By
JIM! HENDRIX
I('\t'r['
21 . 0 backward & forward tapes of speech
29 . 8 Harmonics run up and down at high speed
? ? 5. 6
Tyrnp.
I I4 Gramophone
cut-up techniques have done away with that virus. Before Hendrix, the paratrooper of the IOIst Airborne, cuts his machine-gun-like guitar to the title song, tape technology operates for its own sake: tympana, jet engines, pistol shots. Writing can write nothing of that. The Songbook for Electric Ladyland notes the tape's forward and backward motion as well as its changing speed and the test points of a blind but manipulable time. 247 The title on the cover-that which does not cease not to write itself.
? ? ? FILM
? ? Media cross one another in time, which is no longer history. The recording of acoustic data was accomplished with sound tricks, montage, and cuts; it is with film tricks, montage, and cuts that the recording of optical processes began. Since its inception, cinema has been the manipulation of optic nerves and their time. This is proved, among other ways, by the now-prohibited trick of repeatedly splicing individual frames of a Coca- Cola ad into feature films: because its flashlike appearance for 40 millisec- onds reaches the eyes but not consciousness, the audience develops an in- explicable yet irresistible thirst. A cut has undercut its conscious registra- tion. The same is true of film. Beginning with Eastman in r887, when celluloid superseded Daguerre's photographic glass plates and provided the material basis for feature films, such manipulations became feasible. Cinema, in contrast to sound recording, began with reels, cuts, and splices.
It is said that the Lumiere brothers documented simply and inces- santly what their lens could record and what the type of projection they developed could reproduce. Legend has it, however, that Georges Melies, the great film pioneer, ran out of celluloid while shooting a street scene. He left the tripod and camera in position and loaded a new reel, but in the meantime so-called life naturally went on. Viewing the fully spliced film, its director was consequently surprised by the magical appearance and disappearance of figures against a fixed background. Melies, who as former director of the Theatre Robert Houdin had already projected many a magical trick onto the technological screen,l had accidentally also stumbled upon the stop trick. Hence in May r 89 6, " before the eyes of an astonished and dumbfounded audience," he presented "L'Escamotement d'une dame, the disappearance of a woman from the picture. "2 Techno-
logical media (following Villiers and his Edison) liquidate that "great
II5
? 116 Film
? Jean Cocteau, Le Sang d'un poete, 1930.
Lady, Nature," as it had been described, but never viewed, by the nine- teenth century. Woman's sacrifice.
And castration. For what film's first stop tricks did to women only re- peated what the experimental precursors of cinema did to men. Since 1878 Edward Muggeridge (who changed his name to Eadweard Muy- bridge to commemorate old Saxon kings)3 had been experimenting with twelve special cameras on behalf of the California railroad tycoon and university founder, Leland Stanford. The location was Palo Alto, which later saw the invention of the vacuum tube, and the assignment was the recording of movements whose speed exceeded the perception of any painter's eye. Racehorses and sprinters dashed past the individually and sequentially positioned cameras, whose shutters were triggered succes- sively by an electromagnetic device supplied by the San Francisco Tele- graph Supply CompanY-1 millisecond for every 40 milliseconds. 4
With such snapshots (literally speaking) Muybridge's handsome vol- umes on Animal Locomotion were meant to instruct ignorant painters in what motion looks like in real-time analysis. For his serial photographs testified to the imaginary element in human perception, as in the positions of horses' legs on canvas or on English watercolor paper. To speak of cin- ema as Muybridge's historical goal would, however, be inaccurate, since celluloid was not yet available. The technological medium was meant to modernize a venerable art form, as indeed happened when impressionists like Degas copied photographs in their paintings. Hence Stanford Univer- sity's fencers, discus throwers, and wrestlers posed as future models for
Film 117
painters, that is, nude-at least as long as they turned their backs to one of the twelve cameras. In all the milliseconds of frontal shots, however, Muybridge reached one last time for the painter's brush in order to prac- tice (long before Melies) the disappearance of the male anatomy with re- touched gymnastic shorts.
Had they been copied onto celluloid and rolled onto a reel, Muy- bridge's glass plates could have anticipated Edison's kinetoscope, the peephole precursor to the Lumieres' cinematic projection. The astonished visitors to the 1 893 World's Fair in Chicago would then have been witness to the first trick film: the jumpy appearance and disappearance of moral remains, which in the age of cinema approximate the condition of pure image-flickering.
The trick film therefore has no datable origin. The medium's possi- bilities for cutting and splicing assail its own historiography. Hugo Miin- sterberg, the private lecturer at the University of Freiburg whom William James called to the Harvard Psychological Laboratory, clearly recognized this in 1916 in the first history of cinema written by a professor:
It is arbitrary to say where the development of the moving pictures began and it is impossible to foresee where it will lead. What invention marked the beginning? Was it the first device to introduce movement into the pictures on a screen? Or did the development begin with the first photographing of various phases of moving objects? Or did it start with the first presentation of successive pictures at such a speed that the impression of movement resulted? Or was the birthday of the new art when the experimenters for the first time succeeded in projecting such rapidly
passing pictures on a wall? 5
Miinsterberg's questions remain unanswered because the making of films is in principle nothing but cutting and splicing: the chopping up of continuous motion, or history, before the lens. "Discourse," Foucault wrote when he introduced such caesuras into historical methodology it- self, "is snatched from the law of development and established in a dis- continuous atemporality: . . . several eternities succeeding one another, a play of fixed images disappearing in turn, do not constitute either move- ment, time, or history. "6 As if contemporary theories, such as discourse analysis, were defined by the technological a priori of their media.
Methodological dreams flourish in this complication or implication. Theory itself since Freud, Benjamin, and Adorno has attempted to pseudo-metamorphose into film. 7 It is also possible, however, to under- stand technological a prioris in a technological sense. The fact that cuts stood at the beginning of visual data processing but entered acoustic data
rr8 Film
processing only at the end can then be seen as a fundamental difference in terms of our sensory registration. That difference inaugurated the dis- tinction between the imaginary and the real.
The phonograph permitted for the first time the recording of vibra- tions that human ears could not count, human eyes could not see, and writing hands could not catch up with. Edison's simple metal needle, however, could keep up-simply because every sound, even the most complex or polyphonous, one played simultaneously by a hundred musi- cians, formed a single amplitude on the time axis. Put in the plain lan- guage of general sign theory, acoustics is one-dimensional data processing in the lower frequency range. 8
The continuous undulations recorded by the gramophone and the au- diotape as signatures of the real, or raw material, were thus passed on in an equally continuous way by sound engineers. Cutting and splicing would have produced nothing but crackling noises, namely, square-curve jumps. Avoiding them presupposes great skill on the part of recording en- gineers, if not the computer algorithms of digital signal processing. Therefore, when pioneers of the radio play such as Breslau's Walter Bischoff were looking for genuinely "radio-specific" (funkisch) means of expression, they studied the parallel medium of silent films and consid- ered only the fade-out, not the cut, as a possible model: "The man work- ing the amplifier, " as Bischoff argued in Dramaturgy of the Radio Play, "is in charge of a function similar to that of the camera man. He fades in and out, as we say in the absence of a radio-specific terminology. By slowly turning down the condenser at the amplifier, he lets the scene, the finished sequence of events, fade into the background, just as he can, by gradually turning the condenser up, give increasing form and shape to the next acoustic sequence. "9 By following such continuity, which is diamet- rically opposed to the film cut, things worked well for thirty years. But ever since VHF radio began transmitting stereophonically, that is, two amplitudes per unit of time, fade-outs have been "more difficult to exe- cute": "the mise-en-scene, invisible yet localizable, cannot be dismantled and replaced by a new one in front of the listener as easily as in the case of a monophonic play. "lo Once tethered, such are the constraints pro- duced by the real.
For one thing, optical data flows are two-dimensional; for another, they consist of high frequencies. Not two but thousands of units of light per unit of time must be transmitted in order to present the eye with a two- or even three-dimensional image. That requires an exponential mag- nification of processing capacities. And since light waves are electromag-
Film 119
netic frequencies in the terahertz range, that is, a trillion times faster than concert pitch (A), they outpace not only human writing hands but even (unbelievably) today's electronics.
Two reasons why film is not directly linked to the real. Instead of recording physical waves, generally speaking it only stores their chemical effects on its negatives. Optical signal processing in real time remains a thing of the future. And even if, following Rudolph Lothar's rather timely metaphysics of the heart, everything from sound to light is a wave (or hertz),ll optical waves still don't have a storage or computing medium- not, at any rate, until fiber technologies running at the speed of light have put today's semiconductors out of business.
A medium that is unable to trace the amplitudes of its input data is permitted a priori to perform cuts. Otherwise, there would be no data. Since Muybridge's experimental arrangement, all film sequences have been scans, excerpts, selections. And every cinematic aesthetic has devel- oped from the 24-frame-per-second shot, which was later standardized. Stop trick and montage, slow motion and time lapse only translate tech- nology into the desires of the audience. As phantasms of our deluded eyes, cuts reproduce the continuities and regularities of motion. Phonog- raphy and feature film correspond to one another as do the real and the Imagmary.
But this imaginary realm had to be conquered. The path of invention, from Muybridge's first serial photographs to Edison's kinetoscope and the Lumiere brothers, does not merely presuppose the existence of celluloid. In the age of organic life stories (as poetry) and organic world histories (as philosophy), even in the age of mathematical continuity, caesuras first had to be postulated. Aside from the material precondition, the spliceable celluloid, there was a scientific one: the system of possible deceptions of the eye had to be converted from a type of knowledge specific to illusion- ists and magicians (such as Houdini) to one shared by physiologists and engineers. Just as the phonograph (Villiers de l'Isle-Adam notwithstand- ing) became possible only after acoustics had been made an object of sci- entific investigation, so "cinematography would never have been in- vented " had not " researchers been occupied with the consequences of the stroboscopic effect and afterimages. "12
Afterimages, which are much more common and familiar than the stroboscopic effect, were already present in Goethe's Theory of Colors- but only, as in Wilhelm Meister's Years ofApprenticeship, to illustrate the effects of Classic-Romantic literature on souls: a woman hovers in front
120 Film
of the inner eye of the hero or the readers as the optical model of perfect alphabetization, even though her beauty simply cannot be recorded in words. Wilhelm Meister observes to himself and his like-minded readers, "If you close your eyes, she will present herself to you; if you open them, she will hover before' all objects like the manifestation which a dazzling image leaves behind in the eye. Was not the quickly passing figure of the Amazon ever present in your imagination? "13 For Novalis, imagination was the miraculous sense that could replace for readers all of their senses.
At least as long as Goethe and his Theory of Colors were alive. For it was Fechner who first examined the afterimage effect with experimental rigor. Experimenter and subject in one, he stared into the sun-with the result that he went blind in 1839 for three years and had to resign from his physics chair at the University of Leipzig. The historical step from psy- chology to psychophysics (Fechner's beautiful neologism) was as conse- quential as the emergence of modern media from the physiological hand- icaps of its researchers was literal.
No wonder, then, that the aesthetics of the afterimage effect is also due to a half-blind person. Nietzsche, the philosopher with -14 diop- ters,14 produced a film theory before its time under the pretext of de- scribing both The Birth of Tragedy in ancient Greece and its German re- birth in the mass spectacles of Wagner. 15 In Nietzsche, the theater perfor- mances that were produced in the shadeless midday sun of an Attic setting were transformed into the hallucinations of inebriated or vision- ary spectators, whose optic nerves quite unconsciously processed white- and-black film negatives into black-and-white film positives: "After an en- ergetic attempt to focus on the sun, we have, by way of remedy almost, dark spots before our eyes when we turn away. Conversely, the luminous images of the Sophoclean heroes-those Apollonian masks-are the nec- essary productions of a deep look into the horror of nature; luminous spots, as it were, designed to cure an eye hurt by the ghastly night. "16
Prior to Fechner's historical self-experiment, blinding was not a mat- ter of desire. An eye hurt by the ghastly night that requires for its remedy inverted afterimage effects is no longer directed toward the stage of the Attic amphitheater but onto the black surface of soon-to-come movie screens, as the Lumiere brothers will develop them in defiance of their name. Nietzsche's ghastly night is the first attempt to christen sensory de- privation as the background to and other of all technological mediaY That the flow of data takes place at all is the elementary fact of Nietz- sche's aesthetic, which renders interpretations, reflections, and valuations of individual beauty (and hence everything Apollonian) secondary. If "the
Film 121
world" can be "justified to all eternity . . . only as an aesthetic product,"18 it is simply because "luminous images" obliterate a remorseless blackness. The Nietzsche movie called Oedipus is technological enough to pre- date the innovation of the Lumieres by a quarter century. According to The Birth ofTragedy, a tragic hero, as inebriated spectators visually hal- lucinate him, is "at bottom no more than a luminous shape projected onto a dark wall, that is to say, appearance through and through. "19 It is pre- cisely this dark wall, which allows actors to turn into the imaginary, or film stars, in the first place, that has been opening theater performances since 1 8 7 6, the year of the inauguration of the theater in Bayreuth, whose prophecy The Birth of Tragedy undertook. Wagner did what no drama- turg before him had dared to do (simply because certain spectators in- sisted on the feudal privilege of being as visible as the actors themselves): during opening night, he began The Ring ofthe Nibelung in total dark- ness, before gradually turning on the ( as yet novel) gaslights. Not even the presence of an emperor, Wilhelm I, prevented Wagner from reducing his audience to an invisible mass sociology and the bodies of actors (such as the Rhine maidens) to visual hallucinations or afterimages against the background of darkness. 2o The cut separating theater arts and media tech- nologies could not be delineated more precisely. Which is why all movie theaters, at the beginning of their screenings, reproduce Wagner's cosmic sunrise emerging from primordial darkness. A 1913 movie theater in Mannheim, as we know from the first sociology of cinema, used the slo-
gan, "Come in, our movie theater is the darkest in the whole city! "21 Already in 1 89 1 , four years prior to the projection screen of the Lu- miere brothers, Bayreuth was technologically up to date. Not for nothing did Wagner joke that he would have to complete his invention of an in- visible orchestra by inventing invisible actors. 22 Hence his son-in-law, the subsequently notorious Chamberlain, planned the performance of sym- phonies by Liszt that would have become pure feature films with equally pure film music: accompanied by the sound of an orchestra sunk in Wag- nerian fashion, and situated in a "nightclad room," a camera obscura was supposed to project moving pictures against a "background" until all spectators fell into "ecstasies. "23 Such enchantments were unthinkable with old-fashioned viewing: eyes did not mix up statues or paintings, or the bodies of actors, for that matter-those basic stage props of the es- tablished arts-with their own retinal processes. Thanks only to Cham- berlain's plans and their global dissemination by Hollywood, the physio- logical theory of perception becomes applied perceptual practice: movie- goers, following Edgar Morin's brilliant formulation, "respond to the
1 22 Film
projection screen like a retina inverted to the outside that is remotely con- nected to the brain. "24 And each image leaves an afterimage.
In order to implement the stroboscopic effect, the second theoretical condition of cinema, with the same precision, one needs only to illumi- nate moving objects with one of the light sources that have become om- nipresent and omnipotent since the 1 890S. As is widely known, back then Westinghouse won out over Edison, alternating current over direct cur- rent, as a public utility. The glow of light alternates fifty times per second in European lightbulbs, sixty times in American ones: the uncomplicated, and hence imperceptible, rhythm of our evenings and of an antenna called the body.
The stroboscopic illumination transforms the continuous flow of movement into interferences, or moires, as can be seen in the wheeling spokes of every Western. This second and imaginary continuity evolved from discontinuity, a discovery that was first made by physiologists dur- ing the founding age of modern media. We owe a large part of the theory of alternating current to Faraday, as well as to the study On a Peculiar Class of Optical Deceptions ( 1 83 I ). 25 Coupled with the afterimage effect, Faraday'S stroboscopic effect became the necessary and sufficient condi- tion for the illusions of cinema. One only had to automatize the cutting mechanism, cover the film reel with a wing disk between moments of ex- posure and with a Maltese cross during moments of projection, and the eye saw seamless motion rather than 24 single and still shots. One perfo- rated rotating disk during the recording and projection of pictures made possible the film trick preceding all film tricks.
Chopping or cutting in the real, fusion or flow in the imaginary-the entire research history of cinema revolves only around this paradox. The problem of undermining the threshold of audience perception through Faraday's "deceptions" reflected the inverse problem of undermining the threshold of perception of psychophysics itself to avoid disappointment or reality. Because real motion (above and beyond optical illusions) was to become recordable, the prehistory of the cinema began exactly as that of the gramophone. Etienne-Jules Marey, professor of natural history at the College de France in Paris, and later (following his successful film experi- ments) president of the French photographic society,16 earned his initial fame with a sphygmograph copied from the work of German physiologists that was capable of recording pulse rates onto soot-covered glass plates as curves. 27 In the same way, Weber and Scott had mechanically stored sounds (musical intervals themselves) that were not acoustic illusions.
Beginning with heart muscle contractions, Marey investigated move-
? Marey's chronophotographic gun.
ment in general. His chronographic experiments on humans, animals, birds-published as La machine animaIe (1873), a title that does justice to La Mettrie-inspired Governor Stanford of California to give Muy- bridge his assignment. The professional photographer only had to replace Marey's mechanized form of trace detection with a more appropriate, or professional, optical one-and where eyes had always seen only poetic
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? 1 24 Film
wing-flaps could begin the analysis of the flight of birds, the precondition for all future aircraft constructions. It was no coincidence that pioneers of photography such as Nadar opted against the montgolfieres of 1783 and in favor of literal airships: for flying machines heavier than air. 2s "Cinema Isn't I See, It's I Fly,"29 says Virilio's War and Cinema, in view of the historically perfect collusion of world wars, reconnaissance squad- rons, and cinematography.
In the meantime, the first photographs from Animal Locomotion had hardly appeared when Marey began work on improving Muybridge's im- provement of his own work. The time was ripe for engineers to work to- gether, for innovations of innovations. Marey also stored motion opti- cally, but he reduced the number of cameras from the twelve of his pre- decessor to one and constructed-first with fixed photo glass plates, and, from 1 8 8 8 on, with modern celluloid30-the first serial-shot camera. In- stead of indulging in what Pynchon called "the American vice of modular repetition,"31 he realized that for moving objects, a single, movable appa- ratus was enough.
Its name-the chronophotographic gun-spoke noth- ing but the real truth.
It was in 1 8 6 1 , whilst traveling on a paddle-steamer and watching its wheel, that the future Colonel Gatling hit upon the idea of a cylindrical, crank-driven ma- chine gun. In 1 8 74 the Frenchman Jules Janssen took inspiration from the multi- chambered Colt (patented in 1832) to invent an astronomical revolving unit that could take a series of photographs [when attached to a telescope]. On the basis of this idea, Etienne-Jules Marey then perfected his chronophotographic rifle, which allowed its user to aim at and photograph an object moving through space. 32
The history of the movie camera thus coincides with the history of automatic weapons. The transport of pictures only repeats the transport of bullets. In order to focus on and fix objects moving through space, such as people, there are two procedures: to shoot and to film. In the principle of cinema resides mechanized death as it was invented in the nineteenth century: the death no longer of one's immediate opponent but of serial nonhumans. Colt's revolver aimed at hordes of Indians, Gatling's or Maxim's machine-gun (at least that is what they had originally been de- signed to do) at aboriginal peoples. 33
With the chronophotographic gun, mechanized death was perfected: its transmission coincided with its storage. What the machine gun anni- hilated the camera made immortal. During the war in Vietnam, U. S. Ma- rine Corps divisions were willing to engage in action and death only when TV crews from ABC, CBS, and NBC were on location. Film is an immea-
? Andre Malraux, Espoir.
surable expansion of the realms of the dead, during and even before bul- lets hit their targets. A single machine-gun (according to JUnger's obser- vation on Der Arbeiter) finishes off the fraternity-based heroism of entire Langemarck regiments of 1914;34 a single camera does the same with the dying scenes thereafter.
It was then only a matter of combining the procedures of shooting and filming to take Marey's brand name literally. The chronophotographic gun became reality in the cinema of artificial, that is, lethal, bird flights. Reconnaissance pilots of the First World War such as Richard Garros con- structed an on-board machine-gun whose barrel was pointed parallel to the axis of the propeller while they filmed its effects. 35 During the Second World War, which according to General von Fritsch was supposed to have been won by superior reconnaissance, "the construction of recording de- vices within aircraft yielded still better results. " Major General von Wedel, chief of Army Propaganda, was "especially delighted that Inspector Tan- nenberg was successful in having developed a camera unit that could be built into fighter planes, Stukas, and other aircraft and that, synchronized with the weapon, made possible very impressive combat pictures. "36
As if targeting Inspector Tannenberg and his appropriate name,37 Pyn-
Film 125
? ? '7
Ernst Mach, freeze-frame photos of bullets.
Film 127
chon describes in Gravity's Rainbow "this strange connection between the German mind and the rapid flashing of successive stills to counterfeit movement, for at least two centuries-since Leibniz, in the process of in- venting calculus, used the same approach to break up the trajectories of cannonballs through the air. "38 That is how venerable (in strict accordance with Munsterberg) the prehistory of cinema is. But it makes a difference whether ballistic analysis appears on the paper of a mathematician or on celluloid. Only freeze-frame photographs of flying projectiles, developed in 1 8 8 5 by one no less than Ernst Mach, made visible all interferences, or moin? s, in the medium of the air. Only freeze-frame photographs run au- tomatically and as real-time analysis (since then, TV cameras have re- duced the processing time of pictures to near-zero). Which is why Inspec- tor Tannenberg's propaganda weapon still had or has a future: toward the end of the Second World War, when even 8. 8 millimeter anti-aircraft guns with their teams of operators were ineffective against the Allied carpet bombings of Germany, the first developments toward our strategic present took place-the search by technicians for weapons systems with auto- matic target searching. 39 The chronophotograph was made for that.
Built into aircraft, TV cameras or infrared sensors are no longer the owls of Minerva, lagging behind so-called real history like Hegel's nightly philosophy. The kinds of infinitesimal movement they process through in- tegration and differentiation are much more efficient: with servomotors electrically linked to a missile guidance system, they can hone in on the enemy target. Until camera and target, intercept missile and fighter air- craft, explode in a flash of lightning, a blitz.
Today's cruise missiles proceed in the same fashion, for they compare a built-in film of Europe's topography (from Hessia to Belarus, from Sicily to Ukraine) with their actual flight path in order to correct any possible deviations. Marey's chronophotographic gun has reached its target in all its senses. When a camera blows up two weapons systems simultaneously, and more elegantly than kamikaze pilots did, the analysis and synthesis of movement have become one.
At the end of Gravity's Rainbow, a V2-the first cruise missile in the history of warfare, developed at the Peenemunde Army Test Site-ex- plodes over the Orpheus movie theater in Los Angeles. In grandiose time axis manipulation, which a fictitious drug by the name of Oneirine grants the whole novel,40 the launch is correctly dated March 1945, but the rocket does not hit its target until 1970, when the novel was written. That is how interminably world wars go on, not least because of German- American technological transfer. The off-ground detonator of the V2
128 Film
kicks in, and a ton of Amatol, the rocket's payload, explodes. Shortly thereafter, the image on the screen dissolves, as if the projection bulb were blowing out, but only so that its orphic truth can shine forth. We, "old fans, who've always been at the movies," are finally reached by a film "we have not learned to see"41 but have been hankering after since Muybridge and Marey: the melding of cinema and war.
Nothing, therefore, prevented the weapons-system movie camera from aiming at humans as well. On the three fronts of war, disease, and crimi- nality-the maj or lines of combat of every invasion by media-serial pho- tography entered into everyday life in order to bring about new bodies.
As is widely known, during the First World War the barrels of ma- chine-guns moved away from the black, yellow, and red skins against which they had been developed and started aiming at white targets. Movie cameras, however, kept pace and experienced a boom that might have been a misuse of army property (as with AM radio). At any rate, Miinsterberg, who had to know about it, since he sought to prevent the outbreak of the German-American war in futile fireside chats with Presi- dent Wilson up to the very end (and who, for that reason, remains unac- knowledged by his colleagues at Harvard to this very day)42-Miinster- berg wrote in 19 16:
It is claimed that the producers in America disliked these topical pictures because the accidental character of the events makes the production irregular and inter- feres too much with the steady preparation of the photoplays. Only when the war broke out, the great wave of excitement swept away this apathy. The pictures from the trenches, the marches of the troops, the life of the prisoners, the move- ments of the leaders, the busy life behind the front, and the action of the big guns absorbed the popular interest in every corner of the world. While the picturesque old-time war reporter has almost disappeared, the moving picture man has inher- ited all his courage, patience, sensationalism, and spirit of adventure. 43
And as with the reporters, so with the stars of the new medium. Shortly after the trench war, when the Soul of the Cinema was in demand again, Dr. Walter Bloem, S. ]. , explained what was at the center of the sen- sationalism critiqued by Miinsterberg: "During the war, film actors busily studied the thousands of dead, the results of which we can now admire on the screen. "44
Since April 19 1 7, the founding days of radio entertainment for army radio operators as well, such studies had been resting on a solid founda- tion. The chiefs of the new Army High Command, Hindenburg and Lu-
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dendorff, were serious about total war, and for that reason (among oth- ers) they advanced to the top of Germany's film directors. What evolved in the Grand General Staff was a Bureau of Pictures and Film [BUFA; Bild- und Filmamt] "whose founding and mode of operation was kept rather secret. " Still, it is known that the bureau's "range of operations" included "supplying the inland and the front with films, setting up field movie theaters, the placement of war reporters, . . . censoring all films to be imported and exported, as well as providing all censoring agencies with instructions from the governing military censorship authorities. "45
The way Ludendorff justified these changes is more than just memo- rable; it has made film history. A memo by the general quartermaster led via the chain of command to the founding of the UFA. As a major corpo- ration, UFA was to take over the classified assignments of the Bureau of Pictures and Film in a much more public and efficient way-from the end of the First World War until, as is widely known, the end of the Second:
Chief of the General Staff of the Army. HQ. 4 July 19 1 7 M. ]. No. 208SIP.
To the
Imperial War Ministry Berlin
The war has demonstrated the overwhelming power of images and films as a form of reconnaissance and persuasion. Unfortunately, our enemies have exploited their know-how in this area so thoroughly that we have suffered severe damage. Even for the more distant continuation of the war, film will not lose its significance as a political and military means of influence. Precisely for that reason, for a successful conclusion to the war it is absolutely imperative that film have a maximal effect in those areas where German intervention is still possible.
signed Ludendorff46
Thus, film as a means of reconnaissance and persuasion has been ex- plained, or reconnoitered, in the strictest (that is, military) sense of the term. The path leads, as with radio, from interception to reception and mass mediality. And Ludendorff donated 900 of his movie theaters at the front to this reception, making it possible to decode Lieutenant ]Unger's
Combat as Inner Experience.
Positional warfare prohibits inner experience in Goethean terms, that is, sensory substitutions between the lines of literature. In both his title and his subject, Junger announces a very different type of sensuousness: "When red life clashes against the black cliffs of death, what we get are sharp pictures composed of bright colors. . . . There is no time to read
I30 Film
one's Werther with teary eyes. "47 For media-technological reasons, poetry comes to an end in the trenches, those "pure brainmills": "This failure even appears to be a matter of writing," says a fellow officer and friend of Junger whose "intellectual faculties, in the daily rhythm between watch duty and sleep, gradually dwindle toward zero. " Which the troop leader and recipient of the Ordre pour Ie Merite demonstrates and con- firms with his telegram-style answer, "that this war is a chokehold on our literature. " 48
But ghosts, a. k. a. media, cannot die at all. Where one stops, another somewhere begins. Literature dies not in the no-man's-land between the trenches but in that of technological reproducibility. Again and again, Lieutenant Junger asserts how completely the inner experience of the bat- tle has become a matter of neurophysiology. After the "baptism by fire" of I9I4, soldiers had become "so cerebral that the landscape and the events, in retrospect, managed to escape from memory only as dark and dreamlike shadows. "49 Even more clearly, and in terms of radio: "Every brain, from the simplest to the most complicated, vibrated with the waves of the monstrous, which propagated itself over the landscape. "5o The war, even though "it was so palpable, and rested heavily, like lead, on our senses"-as when, for example, "an abandoned group traversed un- known territory under the canopy of night"-was hence and simultane- ously "perhaps only a phantasm of our brains. "51
Brain phantasms, however, "glowing visions"52 that "burden anxious brains"53 like the trenches: they exist only as the correlatives to techno- logical media. The soul becomes a neurophysiological apparatus only when the end of literature draws near. Hence, the "screams from the dark" that "touch the soul most immediately, . . . since all languages and poets, by contrast, are only stammerings," combine the "clamor of fight- ers" with "the automatic play of the barrel-organ. "54 And as with acoustics, so with the optics of war: "Once again, one's individual expe- rience, the individual, . . . was compressed, once again the colorful world rolled like a swift film through the brain. "55
In the days of the founding age of modern media, the neurologist Benedict described how the dying visualize their past as time-lapse pho- tography. Lieutenant Junger could do this without pseudomorphosis. Af- ter one of his "fourteen"56 war injuries, he was, for purposes of reconva- lescence, relocated to Douchy, a village and communications site in Flan- ders, "the headquarters of the 73d [light-infantry regiment]. "57 "There was a reading room, a cafe, and later even a cinema in a large barn skill- fully converted. "58
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Only in Storm of Steel, his fact-based Diary of a German Storm- Troop Officer, does JUnger speak of the BUFA and its work: "supplying the inland and the front with films, setting up field movie theaters," and so on. In Combat as Inner Experience, this hymn to the trench worker, he does not so much ignore media technology as translate its effects expres- sionistically. Writing itself relocates in the projection room of Douchy. That is why and why alone "the blossoms of the world, blinding and be- numbing, cities on waters of light, southern coasts where blue waves washed against the shore, women cast in satin, queens of boulevards," and the whole range of feature-film archives of inner experiences, " opened themselves" up to the "wandering brains"59 of soldiers in the trenches, even in their darkest moments of sensory deprivation.
One year before the outbreak of the war, Kurth Pinthus's Movie Book announced: "One has to get used to the thought that kitsch will never be eliminated from the world of humans. After we've been trying for decades to get rid of kitsch in the theater, it resurfaces in cinema. And one is led to believe that the masses have found the kitsch expelled from the stage somewhere else. "60
In a world war, for example: "All hearts pound with excitement when the armies of soldiers line up for battle with desperately harsh faces; when grenades burst, releasing a shower of smoke; and when the camera relentlessly traverses the battlefield, ingesting the stiff and muti- lated bodies of senselessly killed warriors. "61
A prophecy that Junger, the mythic war reporter, realizes or recog- nizes. To recognize combat as an inner experience means (following Lu- dendorff) understanding that the use of film "in those areas where Ger- man intervention is still possible" is "absolutely imperative . . . for a suc- cessful conclusion to the war. " For although historical prose suggests, as is widely known, that the other side won, Junger's camera style drives for- ward German attacks again and again, only to freeze the continuation of history or the movies in a last still. In the final analysis, such a film trick becomes possible simply because in mechanized warfare, machine-gun operators kill without seeing any corpses,62 and storm troopers-Luden- dorff's newly formed precursors to the blitzkrieg63-storm without seeing into enemy trenches.
That is why the British, when their attack tears Junger out of his filmic "castle in the air," appear only "for one second . . . like a vision en- graved . . . on my eyes. "64 That is why the novel succeeds in letting its end, its goal and wish fulfillment-namely, the failed Ludendorff offen- sive of "March 21, 1918"65-succeed in the world of hallucination. As a
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camera shot, and after "an eternity in the trenches,"66 an attack is noth- ing short of redemption:
Only rarely does the enemy appear to us . . . in flesh and blood, even though we are separated only by a narrow, torn-up field strip. We've been hunkering down in the trenches for weeks and months, swarms of projectiles showering down upon us, surrounded by thunderstorms. It happens that we almost forget we are fight- ing against human beings. The enemy manifests itself as the unfolding of a gigan- tic, impersonal power, as fate that thrusts its fist into the unseen.
When we storm forward and climb out of the trenches, and we see the empty, unknown land in front of us where death goes about its business between flaring columns of smoke, it appears as if a new dimension has opened up to us. Then we suddenly see up close, in camouflage coats and in faces covered with mud like a ghostly apparition, what awaits us in the land of the dead: the enemy. That is an unforgettable moment.
How differently one had envisioned the scene. The blooming edge of a for- est, a flowery meadow, and guns banging into the spring. Death as a flurrying back and forth between the two trench lines of twenty-year-olds. Dark blood on green blades of grass, bayonets in the morning light, trumpets and flags, a happy, shimmering dance. 67
But contemporary technologies of the body have done their duty, in military as well as choreographic terms. When war and cinema coincide, a communications zone becomes the front, the medium of propaganda becomes perception, and the movie theater of Douchy the scheme or schemes for an otherwise invisible enemy. "When our storm signals flash across, [the English] get ready for a wrestling match about bits and pieces of trenches, forests, and the edge of villages. But when we clash in the haze of fire and smoke, then we become one, then we become two parts of one force, fused into one body. "68 Lieutenant Junger meets his imagi- nary other, as Lacan will define it in 193 6: as a mirror image that might restore the body of the soldier, dismembered fourteen times, back to wholeness. 69 If only were there no war and the other not a doppelganger. For "all cruelty, all the compilation of the most ingenious brutalities, can- not fill a human being with as much horror as the momentary apparition of his mirror image appearing in front of him, [with] all the fiery marks of prehistory reflected in his distorted face. "70
]Unger's film breaks off at precisely this image, long before Gravity's Rainbow ends in the blackout of a real or filmed rocket hit above Uni- versal Studios of California. For once the enemy was recognized as a dop- pelganger, "then, in the last fire, the dark curtain of horror may well have
? Film I33
lifted in the brains, but what was behind, lying in wait, the rigid mouth could no longer speak. "71
Ludendorff and Jiinger's falling storm troopers are silent, either be- cause (following a hermeneutic tautology) they are falling, or because (following a media-technological analysis) their a priori is the silent film. Now, however, we have war films with sound that can spell out the puz- zle behind the dark curtain of horror. What was lying in wait were first of all facts that Jiinger systematically bypassed: the failure of the Luden- dorff offensive, the retreat to the Siegfried position, and capitulation. Sec- ond, and more horrific still, the film doppelganger harbored the possibil- ity of fiction. A cinematic war may not even take place at all. Invisible en- emies that materialize only for seconds and as ghostly apparitions can hardly be said any longer to be killed: they are protected from death by the false immortality of ghosts.
In Gravity's Rainbow, the novel about the Second World War itself, GI von Held asks celebrated film director Gerhardt von Gall (alias Springer, Lubitsch, Pabst, etc. ) about the fate of a German rocket technologist who had fallen into the hands of the Red Army:
"But what if they did shoot him ? "
"No. They weren't supposed to. "
"Springer. This ain't the fucking movies now, come on. "
"Not yet. Maybe not quite yet. You'd better enjoy it while you can. Someday,
when the film is fast enough, the equipment pocket-size and burdenless and selling at people's prices, the lights and booms no longer necessary, then . . . then. . . "72
Total use of media instead of total literacy: sound film and video cam- eras as mass entertainment liquidate the real event. In Storm of Steel no- body except for the diary keeper survives, in Gravity's Rainbow all the people pronounced dead return, even the rocket technician of Peene- munde. Under the influence of the fictitious drug Oneirine, the writing of world-war novels turns into movie fiction.
It is widely known that war-from the sandbox models of the Prus- sian General Staff to the computer games of the Americans-has become increasingly simulable. "But there, too," as these same general staffs wisely recognized, "the last question remains unanswered, because death and the enemy cannot 'be factored in realistically. "'73 Friedlaender, media-techno- logically as always, has drawn from this the daring, inverted conclusion: for death in battle to coincide with cinema would be its own death.
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SALOMa FRIEDLAENDER, "FATA MORGANA MACHINE" (CA. 1920)
For many years Professor Pschorr had been preoccupied with one of the most interesting problems of film: his ideal was to achieve the optical repro- duction of nature, art, and fantasy through a stereoscopic projection appa- ratus that would place its three-dimensional constructs into space without the aid of a projection screen. Up to this point, film and other forms of pho- tography had been pursued only in one-eyed fashion. Pschorr used stereo- scopic double lenses everywhere and, eventually, indeed achieved three- dimensional constructs that were detached from the surface of the projec- tion screen. When he had come that close to his ideal, he approached the Minister of War to lecture him about it. " But my dear Professor," the Min- ister smiled, "what has your apparatus got to do with our technology of maneuvers and war ? " The Professor looked at him with astonishment and imperceptibly shook his inventive head. It was incredible to him that the Minister did not have the foresight to recognize how important that appara- tus was destined to become in times of war and peace. "Dear Minister, " he insisted, "would you permit me to take some shots of the maneuver so that you can convince yourself of the advantages of my apparatus ? " "I'd rather
not," the Minister contemplated, "but you are trustworthy. You know the dangerous article on high treason, of course, and will surely keep the se- cret. " He granted the Professor unlimited access.
